Stupendous Man

I originally wrote this in 2003; I decided to put it up, more or less the way I wrote it – I changed names – thats about it. The story is mostly true, with a little bit of fiction added in.

October 2, 2003

The Price of Freedom

Years later we would realize the price of freedom in our own terms. However that was far away, nearly 5 years away. As we sat down at Shabs to have our evening tea, the topic for the day’s rant was whether we liked our own freedom or not. Shabs was the local tea-shop, where, in evening you could find a herd of college students sipping away tea and puffing away smoke. It was almost a cultural gathering of sorts; there were the regulars for whom life lived and revolved around Shabs, us included, and those who were occasional visitors. The bakery next to the shop served Samosas and Kachoris, making it the perfect spot for a college-goer. That it was also at the proximity of a corner at crossroads made it an even more lucrative to spend time in the evenings. However that day we were ranting on freedom.

Suh as usual was argumentative in the least – he didn’t actually like taking part in discussions which didn’t involve him to speak. Simply put he was not a good debater. He was kind of guy who preferred quiet talks and simple arguments. Once the argument got out of control, he is a kind of guy who would stay back and let the argument flow. Sach was the other way round. The only way he knows is to argue; however he wouldn’t irritate you – that was the beauty of his way of fighting. Never screaming, never angry, yet prudently insistent, he was a guy whom you could argue. While I, it was just I and no body else. What began as an argument which was not going to go for 10 minutes became a big debate later on. The price of freedom as we called it later on, was a memorable discussion on the topic, not because we discussed it, but what we realized later that made it memorable.

However all that was 5 years thence.

Sitting in my lonely room, today I wonder whether we know the price of freedom at all. Whether an average person actually knows the freedom he is enjoying. Exactly what was the meaning of freedom that we enjoyed, and what was the understanding of that amongst everyone. I had once read in a book which talked about our independence struggle. In it a character moans – “what does freedom matter to me? Before independence I lifted these sacks for the British; after independence, I will do the same for my Indian boss. ‘freedom’ is not going to make a big difference to my life”. It was an amusing line for me to read , because it represented what many people actually thought in those times. Did freedom make much of a difference to life of a slum dweller? Did it make the life of sweeper better? It simply didn’t matter. Or maybe they were not that educated to even realize the meaning of freedom and what it actually meant.

“Kounsi Azaadi, what did it do to me man; I still poor” began Suh that day “what difference has it made to this Babs who is serving us tea? He works almost 18 hours a day in this shop, what freedom has he got?”

Babs was the main waiter at Shabs. He was the chief person who would serve everything to everyone, and also had the privilege of getting and listening to everyone’s insults too. We too would get angry with him when he screwed up the amount of coffee in the coffee – however like everything else we and he had got used to each other.

Sach as always countered “But without the very freedom, he wouldn’t be able to work for his family. Imagine if he had no freedom – if we were still under imperial rule. Imagine then, would we be so free and sitting here? Would he be so ‘free’ with us – he jokes with us, even gives hidden discounts to us, and acts like a normal guy with us – would he do that if he were not free? Freedom didn’t mean we got freedom from what we do for living, but freedom gave us the freedom of expression, the freedom to be free.”

I wasn’t convinced, and noticing I had to chip in something I merely quipped “but freedom without the ability to enjoy freedom is useless – look at Babs – he enjoys with us all right, but where does he have the freedom to do anything more? Even if he has to see a movie he will first have to make sure his employer doesn’t throw him out, gather some money and do a quick return. Then is he enjoying his freedom? He would like to spend some time with his family, but 18 hours drains him out; what part of freedom is left for him to enjoy with his family then?”

However Sach charged in “dude, what I am talking about is the nature of being free rather than the feeling of freedom. Ask a man to enjoy freedom – he won’t. It is impossible for him to enjoy freedom without first being free within himself. If he is bound by fear of something, than no freedom can set him free. Talk about Babs, I agree that his freedom to even see a movie is limited, but at least he knows that when he reaches the theatre, he won’t be thrown out just like that. Or that when he goes out with his friends every once in a while, he doesn’t need to worry if someone is going to catch him for doing something. That is the essence of freedom – to enjoy the freeness of freedom”

Maybe Sach had been right day. Sitting here in this lonely room, I mused back to the day I was sidelined to allow entry in a bus for someone else to enter it. Was I free then? Sure I enjoyed the independence and freedom of the foreign country; however how much free was I really was?

It was during the days of the war, when we met our friend Akaash; he had an interesting story to tell us – the other day he was in his lab with his friends, mostly Americans who were discussing about the war. Akaash being an Indian remarked without any ado that Bush was a disgusting person and America’s acts were not honorable. He hated America for doing this.

His American friend who ‘also’ didn’t support the war, however quipped – “if you hate our country so much, then why you do stay here? Go back to your country! Nobody asked you to come here; you enjoy the independence of the country and yet you speak back at us?”

Akaash was understandingly surprised. It dawned on him however that his right to freedom ended with his country and not others. I wondered then, had my right to freedom didn’t actually mean I am free? I realized then that what Sach has been telling to me that day was right. I was a free man in India. I was a free man in America. However I paid the price of freedom by leaving my free land there and coming to a foreign land. I am no longer the free man I was in India, but yes, I do have freedom. Still.

“But how do you justify a man’s freedom by the freeness of mind” asked Suh to all of us “Freeness of mind is a different thing than freeness of a being. If you are not free to “feel” free, then what is the point of this freedom? Can Babs enjoy freedom without first being free himself? Without him getting the time to analyze his life, how do you think he is going to be free? If I were in Babs’s place, I did not be feeling free at all!”

“But dude, that is exactly the difference I am pointing out” Sach jumped at the question – “My argument is if you are free in your mind, then you are using your freedom. As long as Babs has no fear of someone treating him like a mud-sling slave or a pathetic human being, and that he was destined to do menial work, he is actually free. He is not bound by the fear of not doing something totally wrong!”

I wasn’t convinced “So do you say Sach that Babs is enjoying his freedom? Lets leave freedom for a while. Why are we assuming that Babs is being treated like human here in the first place! For one thing, he may not be given money at the end of the month, his employer may be a nuisance, he may be using him to his advantage, he may be overworking and underpaying him, there are a lot of million different things which may be true for him; then how tell me is he not still in the fear of doing something wrong? What if his situation is so bad that he needs this job desperately that he dare not do something wrong? Then what kind of “freeness” is he enjoying pal? He is neither free nor can enjoy freedom!”

Suh agreed with me then and added “Exactly Sach – Unless you are actually in a situation to think about freedom and appreciate the meaning of it, there is no freedom”

Sach had come along with me to the land of Uncle Sam to do his masters. He always wanted to come here and there was no doubt whether he wanted to study ahead or not. His idea was to master gaming world here and work for about couple of years before heading back to India to open his own company – something which I want to do myself, sans the company though. We talked for the first time in august of 2001 when we both landed here. Expectant, hopeful, we were both happy and sad at being here. Suh couldn’t make it here, but he did go to the other part of the world – UK. While I and Sach stayed with Uncle Sam, Suh took refuge in UK. The next time when I and Sach talked to each other was actually December 2002. Half year without talking had us both strangely quite on the phone, though in spite of chatting on mail day in and out.

Invariably like any expatriate, our focus would come back to the life we led in engineering days and the life we are living now. He would mention then “Man, life sucks here! I have to go to campus jobs every day, then study, and then complete those freaking assignments! By the time I reached home, I am dead tired, and the only thing I do I sleep!”

“that’s true dude. Same here, same campus jobs, same assignment, hardly leaves me any time! I haven’t even seen a desi movie in years now!”

“Seriously man, life was better in engineering days! I miss those days dude – especially the evenings at Shabs! All that you see here is those damned burger kings and Mc Donalds. How I wish I had failed a couple of subjects and stayed back man – that was life! The freedom and independence we enjoyed was awesome!”

I agreed, and after a couple of more pleasantries, I hung up. You see I had my job to go to.

It would be fair to assume how our discussion went thereafter. Sach stuck to his point of being “free” from the mind rather than freedom itself, while Suh and I argued otherwise. Like any other argument, that too ended with Suh keeping quiet, and finally we having our cups of teas and samosas and then as usual, there was always something else to talk about. They both forgot about this discussion right after, and arguably, I did too. It was yet another discussion we had. Life had so much in store for us that none of us would have the time to realize whether freedom came from within or freedom was bestowed on you. Whether a man free from his mind enjoyed freedom, or did freedom engulf the very man who wanted to enjoy it so much, but simply couldn’t.

We always used to hear, “America is a free country”. People said “People can live any ways they want to there”, sometimes my friends quipped “God, people stare at you here if you wear shorts and go outside, in America this doesn’t just happen”. My aunty also had a view “I am sure no one bothers about their neighbor as much as we do – my neighbor has all the information on my family matters – I just don think we have privacy”. My dad wouldn’t’ be left behind “In America” he reasoned rather maturely “It’s the small nuances of freedom which appeal to everyone, however it is not true. People are individualistic here, and that’s the reason people feel free there, and you will too”

I first didn’t grasp what would be the meaning of all this. However when I came down to Uncle Sam, in a few days I knew what my father meant. I could be free here as long as I didn’t “interfere’’ in other’s matters, “talk” to my friend only after checking he is free, “plan” in advance for the weekend and getaways, and probably be my self if had nothing better to do. So much for freedom. However it was freedom all right!

Suh always wanted to leave India. He had this great theory that everything in India was corrupted and how the west was less corrupted. I had several times reasoned that he was not true and his abilities in life didn’t depend on the level of corruption, however he felt he would do better outside. After a failed attempt to come to Uncle Sam, he decided UK was a better choice, monetary wise as well as educational point of view. Off he flew to London by the time I and Sach had almost completed one year. As was his dream, Suh got admission for his MBA program in finance, which he was very interested in. His initial days were difficult like any of us in states – the campus jobs, the assignments and the desolate feeling of being lonely. However like Sach, Suh too enjoyed the “freedom” of the other land, but after a year changed his opinion, to almost as much of Sach. It was during those transition periods we would be talking and reminiscing about our discussion on freedom, and Sach would be jubilant. After all eventually what he told was right, and we tended to agree with him at that point of time.
How does a person know he is free? Do you tell him he is? Or do you let him realize it?

5 years thence, we all have paid the price of our freedom. We all have come to terms with our own freedoms. Like said, Sach was right then, and Sach was right today. Suh misses the freedom of his own country in spite of being in a socially freer country. I am missing my homeland more than anything else in this world – though I know that socially I am not as free as I am here. However that is the quite the point – I am free from my mind when I am in my homeland. I am not when I am here.

Then what is this price of freedom that we have paid for so long? It is nothing but not realizing it very then 5 years ago that the price of freedom lay not in the essence of being socially free, but in the freeness of the wonderful mind. In essence, nor was Babs really free – for he was bound to his job, but nor was he not free. If not his present employer, there was always someone else whom he did work for wouldn’t he? Whom would the same laborer work for in Middle East if his passport was not given back to him by his previous employer? Surely Babs enjoyed more freedom than this.

I guess everyone pays the price of freedom. Some realize it sooner – others prefer to realize it later. Maybe I caught up with it somewhere in middle.