Dr. Simmi Gurwara
I often crib about my inability to manage more time for my readings that bring the entire world into my open arms, promising an instant rapport which refuses to die down with time-both good and bad. I wish I could grab and grasp more-much more-than I am currently able to. This lack of management throws up incredible mood swings of the worst order. I rave and rant; groan and grumble to express my inadequacies. Much of the precious time is frittered away when I am stuck in a woeful state. I keep on piling up my roaster with the new found complaints. Unhappy with my time management skills; I indulge luxuriously in self denigration.
Being critical of your own self has its own advantages. First of all it gives an elevated impression to the mind that you are objective enough to look within impartially. Outside support is no more a compulsion. Critics can sit back and relax. Tuned into self critical mode, I am filled with the false sense of pride that I can be as tough on myself as tough can be. It makes me feel stronger, giving me the solace that I am a paragon of mental toughness which not many are. So I automatically become one-up. What a feeling! It takes away the unbearable heaviness of my incompleteness miles and miles away.
I get relaxed after having a grueling session of self-examination. Astonishingly, one weakness gives way to the other and I get overwhelmed by the number of weaknesses I own. It makes me a proud owner of plenty and at the same time a sufferer of the perennial problem of plenty. I don’t trust the principle of ‘more is less and less is more’ especially when I am inundated with a plethora of problems.
Think of the solutions rather than the problems, people say. They may be right. But problem is that too much of my time is lapsed in concentrating wholly and solely on my problems. And now I realize how focused I can afford to be. Something I otherwise complain about. One thing that I am sure about is- the more I peek into the inner recesses, the more I discover. And this discovery is absolutely amazing as it transports me into a make-believe world where I adorn the robes ofColumbusand kick off the voyage deep within. It is therapeutic. It is cathartic. I become my own counselor and offer the wackiest pieces of advice to soothe my swollen nerves. This is the time when I take charge of the otherwise slippery situation. I regain control; hats off to my counseling competence. For every failed opportunity I offer a beautifully crafted excuse that takes the unsolicited burden away from my weary shoulders. I stand erect, believing in all fairness that it wasn’t my failure at all; it is just that the things didn’t work out in my favor. In short, the world is to be blamed squarely for my inefficiencies.
If and when enveloped by the most wretched feeing of self pity, I start behaving like a victim. And it is not that you are damned when you feel victim. It saves you red face. Now the world becomes the culprit that is unfailingly on a look out to kill my time and energy, and though I put up a brave face, I succumb to the pressures that arrive unannounced. See how it makes me light, bereft of all emotional baggage. A long period of accusations and counter accusations end up in an amicable solution wherein I acquit myself of all charges and walk free. This is the benefit of playing multifarious roles. What matters is how you enact the double triple roles; how much sincerity and effort you put into rehearsals and then final delivery; and how masterly you play the roles which you script and direct. The end result is that I am discharged of finger-pointing.
The situation is not easy when you are the victim and you are the victor. This role reversal calls for great acumen but it comes with experience as rest of the things do. So whenever I am neck-deep in the self- created and self-motivated seas of blame game, I find my way out paddling incessantly. Because come what may, I know that the buck doesn’t stop here.
