A couple of years back I remember reading "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundera. It was recommended by one of my closest friends, and it easily ranks as the best book I have read. Since then I have developed a deep sense of respect for the author who seems have more insights into the psyche of human beings than the best psychologists.
I was just going through one of his set of articles in "The Book of Laughter and Forgetting" about a feeling called "Litost". It is a Bohemian word, an explains the genius of a feeling that has no parallel word in any other language. Milan Kundera defines litost as a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one's own misery. How true!
Hasn't it happened that we have come across situations that we were within arms reach of something we greatly desired, and then suddenly, it disappeared completely from our sight? And for that we end up blaming ourselves and our bad luck for it? It is the same feeling I am trying to explain by the term "litost".
It has also happened quite a few times when we try to show possessiveness and care for the other person, even end up shouting at and hitting the person we love, just because they did something we could not do. We try to tell them its our overwhelming sense of care and affection, but all the while we are trying to shut ourselves from admitting that we would have been pathetic in the same situation. To make our point we go to the point of staying hungry and even hurting ourselves, just to make a point. A point that was never so important or critical in any sense. We did all that just to bring back a feeling of equality in our hearts, rather restore the balance in favour of our superiority.
I have faced the same feeling when I tried to go out of the way and create my own venture. I felt unsure of myself and lacked confidence in my abilities when I was graduating from IIM Ahmedabad, so much that it clouded my mind for over three and half years. This feeling started sprouting in me since my near fatal accident during engineering two years before I got admission into the institute. My will power to live created a medical miracle. But it left my mind far more wounded than my bruised and battered body. I was close to getting married to the girl of my life, and I did not get an ounce of feeling that I WILL be able to care of her, whatever life may offer. Without proof to the contrary, I was not sure if I could be a good son to my parents, a good brother and an admired family member. Time came closer, and at the last minute, I left my well-settled job for a venture that was probably ill suited to my characteristics. What in fact I had really lost, was 15 points in IQ, although even after that my IQ was tested to be higher than that of the CAT topper in the entire country.
At that time, my thought was noble, and the intention was indeed noble. I have tried explaining to myself that the idea was driven by my need to feel connected to my Indian roots that are long lost in the partition days in Bangladesh. I wanted to do something for my nation and my people, burn hard earned money and put at stake all my relationships and ideals and go full steam to educate the rural youth. I did lose more than I could ever imagine. It was loss of a life.
As I am writing after long under this pen-name that I so ardently love, I realise that it was my litost that was my biggest motivator. Today I am back on my path to recovery and I am certain that I will be able to make good of the lost time, relationships and money. But I am still aware that my litost is a companion who is unwilling to leave me like my shadow. I am reminded of the poems of Defeat (by Khalil Gibran), If (by Rudyard Kipling) and The Road Not Taken (by Robert Frost) that ignited and stirred in me a sense of passion for something I never understood. Today I found a word for that instinct. For once, a man who has dreamed of modifying language to fit the thought patterns of the human brain, is overcome by the effect of a singular word that changed a paradigm of his understanding of something equally complex yet simple and beautiful - life, my life.
I was just going through one of his set of articles in "The Book of Laughter and Forgetting" about a feeling called "Litost". It is a Bohemian word, an explains the genius of a feeling that has no parallel word in any other language. Milan Kundera defines litost as a state of torment created by the sudden sight of one's own misery. How true!
Hasn't it happened that we have come across situations that we were within arms reach of something we greatly desired, and then suddenly, it disappeared completely from our sight? And for that we end up blaming ourselves and our bad luck for it? It is the same feeling I am trying to explain by the term "litost".
It has also happened quite a few times when we try to show possessiveness and care for the other person, even end up shouting at and hitting the person we love, just because they did something we could not do. We try to tell them its our overwhelming sense of care and affection, but all the while we are trying to shut ourselves from admitting that we would have been pathetic in the same situation. To make our point we go to the point of staying hungry and even hurting ourselves, just to make a point. A point that was never so important or critical in any sense. We did all that just to bring back a feeling of equality in our hearts, rather restore the balance in favour of our superiority.
I have faced the same feeling when I tried to go out of the way and create my own venture. I felt unsure of myself and lacked confidence in my abilities when I was graduating from IIM Ahmedabad, so much that it clouded my mind for over three and half years. This feeling started sprouting in me since my near fatal accident during engineering two years before I got admission into the institute. My will power to live created a medical miracle. But it left my mind far more wounded than my bruised and battered body. I was close to getting married to the girl of my life, and I did not get an ounce of feeling that I WILL be able to care of her, whatever life may offer. Without proof to the contrary, I was not sure if I could be a good son to my parents, a good brother and an admired family member. Time came closer, and at the last minute, I left my well-settled job for a venture that was probably ill suited to my characteristics. What in fact I had really lost, was 15 points in IQ, although even after that my IQ was tested to be higher than that of the CAT topper in the entire country.
At that time, my thought was noble, and the intention was indeed noble. I have tried explaining to myself that the idea was driven by my need to feel connected to my Indian roots that are long lost in the partition days in Bangladesh. I wanted to do something for my nation and my people, burn hard earned money and put at stake all my relationships and ideals and go full steam to educate the rural youth. I did lose more than I could ever imagine. It was loss of a life.
As I am writing after long under this pen-name that I so ardently love, I realise that it was my litost that was my biggest motivator. Today I am back on my path to recovery and I am certain that I will be able to make good of the lost time, relationships and money. But I am still aware that my litost is a companion who is unwilling to leave me like my shadow. I am reminded of the poems of Defeat (by Khalil Gibran), If (by Rudyard Kipling) and The Road Not Taken (by Robert Frost) that ignited and stirred in me a sense of passion for something I never understood. Today I found a word for that instinct. For once, a man who has dreamed of modifying language to fit the thought patterns of the human brain, is overcome by the effect of a singular word that changed a paradigm of his understanding of something equally complex yet simple and beautiful - life, my life.
