I like this but I hate that

Is freedom of choice a prejudiced coda of human fallacy?

About 14 years ago, on a rainy sunny day in mid-July, I was sprawling in my study room in front of my math textbooks, reading a novel. Growing up as an only child, cats were my best pals, and they studied maths with me with much more enthusiasm, particularly with a protractor, as it must have resembled a sardine or a pearl spot fish. A faint groan was heard from downstairs that didn’t sound like my father’s usual afternoon yawn. It was a piercing cry of a 2-month-old puppy my mom brought home. My cat immediately left the scentless protractor to inspect the new arrival.

I wondered how the German Shepherd puppy would fare in the wet, moist, coconut tree-filled gardens near the Periyar river rather than a whereabouts near the Rhine river in Europe, while my cat, with his parseltongue-ish hiss, made it absolutely clear that no other animal shall live inside his house. My mom sensed swirling despair in my eyes. Like Rafiki in the Lion King, my mom, holding the Simba-like creature, enquired, what shall we call her? Brida, said I, tranquillized by the story of a Paulo Coelho’s book I was reading moments ago.

I believed that I never synced with dogs. I despised their long fur, aggressive barks, long snouts and massive size to name a few. For a very long time, I never fed, caressed or played cricket with Brida. My mom was her guardian angel, yet, even to my mom’s surprise, Brida felt most content in my company. Eventually, love triumphed over my thoughts about Brida’s flaws. Over the last 14 years, there were times when I had to live away from Brida, sometimes for months, sometimes for years. Every second spent with Brida was a moment of pure joy. Last week, Brida had to depart to her promised land. Her final journey made me wonder, what if my mom never brought her home?

I’ve heard my friends say things like, “I don’t like investment banking, but only consulting,” “I don’t like auditing,” “I don’t like to eat meat” (referring to myself). How many of our likes and dislikes are a result of our experiences, unaffected by the mind’s prejudices?

Sharira-mana-budhdi (body, mind and intellect) are the upadhis (impositions) through which we experience life in this world. The constitution of most countries offers reasonable freedom for all its citizens to think, act and live. But how much freedom do we truly enjoy? How often do we become a slave to our physical and mental persecution?

Brida had a body and mind of her own, but many times I was the intellect through which she decided whether to sit, eat or chase my cat. I do not know if Brida saw me as a brother, an alien or a God. Just like some of us believe ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me’, Brida must have believed ‘I can do all things through Govind who caresses me’.

Brida surrendered her whole life to a few people, just like we surrender our minds towards certain people, beliefs and smartphones. And we unconsciously tend to perceive there is ‘freedom in surrender’ as we succumb to a controlled and cautious life.

Before we become adamant about our choices, let us seek the truth conferred by our experiences. We might love or hate it, but it is going to be an adventure.