कर्मण्येवाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन ।
मा कर्मफलहेतुर्भुर्मा ते संगोऽस्त्वकर्मणि ॥
For anyone who has grown up in an quintessential Indian household, these words are not new. Most of us have grown up in homes having a poster depicting a war scene from the battle of Kurukshetra and these very words inscribed on it. For something that was so vividly present in front of my eyes while growing up, the actual realization (dare I say) has taken a lot of time to hit home.
My first tryst with the Bhagwat Gita happened when in an attempt to understand “religion”, I took upon myself to read through authoritative religious texts. My naive self conveniently bundled this guide to spiritual salvation with other books explaining religious tenets and then merely went on to declare myself an atheist.
Among other things that the COVID pandemic turned upside down, my worldview was one. And this came about after another engaging read of the Bhagwat Gita — part by recommendation and part by a desperate attempt to hang to the love of dear life.
This was also the same time that I embraced birding — or as I like to call it “The (re) Birding Year”. It took me thousands of kilometers across different Indian states, hundreds of birding checklists, tens of new acquaintances and a two month break from writing to grasp that not only was I rekindling a long suppressed passion, I was in all probability, walking down the path of Karma Yoga.
Big words, I know. Can only request you to hear me out.
I will not go into the literal and philosophical translation of the aforementioned verse, for those far better than me have done a wonderful job at it. What I will however do is tell you how, through birding, I have been able to detach from the pursuit of outcomes and ended up with more than I could ever ask from my actions.
Within a couple of months of taking up re-birding, my mental health took a turn for better. Regular readers of this blog would know that I have been very vocal about this. What began as a coping mechanism to having been pushed away too frequently by what I had clearly mistook as seeking love and affection, birding soon helped me get in a semblance of routine. Weekends were no longer about waking up with head splitting hangovers but about making it to a birding hotspot before first light. The change was driven by passion (Growing you Fruit of Passion) and nurtured by discipline. Letting go of bad habits and embracing better ones. A molting of sorts that freed the mind from the darkness that I had fed it for so long.
Chrysalis.
The pandemic ravaged years have fundamentally altered the my social interactions. An extrovert to the hilt and someone who took pride in bringing a war tank to a street fight, I now identify more with a self that abhors the idea of street fights. It could be something to do with age but I’d rather acknowledge an outcome that I associate with letting go of an erstwhile ego than a social stereotype. The ability to respond and not react, the will to embrace the uncontrollable and the need to work with what I have, owe their recent presence in my life to birding.
From the self awareness came the awareness of my Dharma — to stand up for what I believe in. My line of work rewards being non-partisan but it usually manifests into being a fence-sitter. Being diplomatic is a chip on the shoulder for where I come from. But the more I learned about the wanton destruction of bird habitats to make way for people in one way or the more it become clear that we have to conjure our own patronus. Climate change induced risks are not going to mitigate themselves and if we don’t act today, we may not have a tomorrow to talk about. I have always believed that we need to leave behind a better world than the one we have inherited and that called for taking a stand.
So when the opportunity presented itself — a stand was taken. Civic administrators in my home town of Pune have come up with a brazen plan to destroy my happy place — the Vetal Tekdi (hillock) under the pretext of enabling the movement of more vehicles in the city. Not acting for the fruit of one’s action doesn’t translate into inaction, so when you are not sure of what is the best you can do, doing the least you can is the first step on the path of Dharma, I believe.
There is no way for me to know how many minds I was able to change with these creatives but I was able to let go of always walking the middle path — more so when it may not be the path of Dharma. Taking sides comes with its own tags and I’d rather live with one that makes a wee bit difference than get a medal for being at my indifferent best.
The thrill to know that this is just the beginning of the path is what makes it more exciting. Goes without saying that it will get difficult with time and self doubt will present itself as an unpleasant companion all along. What gives me solace is that I now have a guiding light — one that has been burning bright for centuries!
Its been a few months since I moved to a new perch close enough to be “always available” as the primary care giver for my aging parents yet having the peace and quite that brings in clarity of thought and action through solitude. Having more time for myself has helped me work on what has probably been the most difficult of asks along this path thus far — to let go of those who don’t put a premium on their word and my time. Doing this has been difficult because being always available for everyone has been an identity I was proud of. The resultant burn out was usually brushed off as not doing enough. I sincerely hope that birding comes in handy here as well.
Writing this while watching the sun set in the back drop of the majestic Janjira fort — I’m reminded of my privilege — not the one coming from generational wealth but the one amassed from not having to always walk the path of Dharma. Growing another year older in age isn’t helping either, but the point to turn back seems too distant to not let go off.
समाने वृक्षे पुरुषो निमग्नोऽनिशया शोचति मुह्यमानः।
जुष्टं यदा पश्यत्यन्यमीशमस्य महिमानमिति वीतशोकः ॥
A verse from the Muṇḍaka Upaniṣad that also finds mention in the Gita comparing the human body to be home to two birds — one engrossed in eating the fruit of the the tree and other entirely oblivious to it — may be the “birding” approach to karma yoga that I would take from here on…
