Definition : From Greek catharsis meaning “purification” or “cleansing” or “clarification”. Is the purification and purgation of emotions results in renewal and restoration. It is a metaphor originally used by Aristotle in the Poetics comparing the effects of tragedy on the mind of a spectator to the effect of catharsis on the body
Something I have been going through. Pretty much all of last week. Sometimes I know the reason, sometimes I imagine I know. Sometimes I have no clue. I didn’t know which belongs to whom or even if that matters.
Last evening.
Returning home in a rickshaw. The streets were crowded because of Ganapati Visarjan. It’s the last day of Mount Marys. It had been a strangely quiet day, but an exhausting week. And I was physically tired, not yet fully recovered from my bout with Viral and emotionally spent.
The torrential rains caused a temperature drop of a few degrees. And I felt suddenly cold. I pulled my black shawl tighter around me and all I wanted to do was be quiet and reflect. It’s already ten days since Ganapti came and now they are going – How quickly time moves I think.
I was lost in my thoughts, not really paying attention to the rains splashing on my face, thinking of time, as the rickshaw stopped at a signal. A beggar woman came with her chubby but barely covered child. A year old maybe…
I didn’t have the energy to even say ‘no’, so I just look at – and past her..
It’s a usual sight on Mumbai streets, these people have become like the signal post, at which we had stopped, always there always signalling passage of time, always conveniently ignored.
In a minute my rickshaw will move and so will this nagging ache in my heart , or so I wanted to believe.
And then, this little boy suddenly emulated his mom and did the ‘begging action’, the sudden movement shook me out of my reverie and I noticed the goose bumps on his little wet hand for the first time, and the toothless smile on his face. Even as he continued the begging action as if it were a new game. I suddenly became painfully became aware of the warm shawl, the cold weather and my hot tears. And I wished time would move faster. The minute seemed really long.
Just as the rickshaw was about to move, I put a ten-rupee note in the mother’s hand, mostly for me. The little chubby boy continued to smile through all this. I prayed for that innocence to last a little longer.
Gods had the luxury to come and go in style but some people still had to live.
We moved from that signal but I could not stop crying. The rickshaw driver and me exchanged a glance in the rear view mirror and he shook his head, we both knew what we were thinking about.
I wanted to keep quiet and scream at the same time.
“It’s a tough life madam”, he said and sometimes what you see on these roads makes one relook at your own life – yes I nod. I agree completely. I look up, I didn’t trust my voice at this point. Silently wanting him to say more, I have learnt a lot from these rickshaw drivers – they see so much.They travel so much and yet don’t go anywhere.
My Katharsis continues…
Rajesh, the driver then started telling me about an incident that happened a week prior when he was taking a man with a very sick wife to the hospital. The wife was in a lot of pain. She had a burst appendicitis, the man urged Rajesh to drive faster they were going to a government hospital, because this guy was poor, he didn’t have the money to go to a private hospital which was closer.
Rajesh said, the government hospital was far and the wife was about to faint. The man said he only had 500 rupees and the private place would ask at least 3000 to even admit. All this conversation, while Rajesh was trying his best to drive as quickly as possible, manoeuvring the traffic and his own internal dilemma.
Rajesh then told me, in a matter of fact voice, that he had 3500 rupees on him, three days of hard earned money, that he offered to this unknown man. ‘I would just drink the money away as I usually do‘, he said but this money could save a life, and it was ok to forego the alcohol.
But the man, although taken aback by this act of kindness, refused.
Pause !! !Rajesh became quiet – so did I. The Story continued in a different voice
By the time Rajesh reached the hospital the wife had died. Rajesh drove them back to their house left the 3500 quietly with the uncontrollably crying man and left.
He had tears in his eyes when he told me this. He told me how helpless he felt and how he thought about life and what he believed to be important. And how timing was everything. He decided to stop drinking completely after this incident. Wow I thought Some more respect.
Rajesh stopped talking and we had almost reached. Just as I got off the Church bells chimed. Rajesh said a short prayer, so did.
Yes timing was everything.
I pondered about how time and timing were two different things. How in some situations time crawled by and in some it just went in a flash. How Katharsis, was a process of allowing the ‘tragedy’ to help us move emotionally. How the human experience really was timeless and boundary less.
Perhaps we were not so different after all beneath the ego, the insecurities the hopelessness. But were too caught up to show. Perhaps we keep repeating the stories of addiction, abandonment and betrayal to feel the pain that we know how to deal with so we can avoid feeling anything new. Pain and shame can be a great cop-out for feeling grief or joy. Perhaps we have conveniently boxed ‘Vulnerability’ only as showing and feeling pain and suffering –Experiencing and expressing happiness and joy can also be vulnerable.
Maybe every now and then we must inhabit alone. The permeability of being alone asks us to re-imagine ourselves, even as the pain of others seeps in and mingles with our own. Perhaps even become impatient with ourselves, to tire of the same old story and then slowly hour by hour, to start to tell craft a different story, in a different way. And tell it to people. There is no shame in choosing Happiness. And freedom.
I thought of how spontaneously Rajesh chose to give up Alcohol. And it did not take time.
“It takes time- is a Myth”
And how we have convinced ourselves that because we suffered for so long it will also take a long to become happy. Perhaps we would feel cheated if we didn’t hold on to that.
But the fact remain that no matter for how many years the room is locked and in the dark. The moment a light bulb is turned on, instantly the dark room becomes bright. It takes NO time.
Suppose we were able to share meanings freely without a compulsive urge to impose our view or conform to those of others and without distortion and self-deception. Would this not constitute a real revolution in culture? ”
― David Bohm
In the process of the these precious 35 minutes. The six of us had gotten entangled. The mother the little boy, the couple in the rickshaw Rajesh and me
Strangely – I did not feel as heavy in my heart. Grief sorrow really did get divided and processed when shared. And it did not matter who it belonged to.
“Katha”, in hindi also means Story or myth. Maybe Katharsis is the process of shedding an old story and crafting a new one.
I do feel more cleansed, purified and more clear for sure. These three stories will certain be with me.
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