Author:
Publication: The Times of India
Date: July 27, 2008
Introduction: Sudhir Kakar tells Namita Devidayal
why intellect minus emotions makes for a fragmented human being
We live in a world increasingly dictated by
divisiveness-within marriages, between brothers, in the education system.
So, it's refreshing when one of the finest mind explorers this country knows
pays homage to the idea of connectivity.
"The human mind is dictated by both the
body and the spirit,'' pronounces Sudhir Kakar, psychoanalyst, academic and
writer. "And the spirit is that unseen energy where 'I-ness' disappears,
connections are made, and there is no separation between the self and the
universe.''
Kakar, who has long navigated the subterranean
terrains that map and guide human behaviour, was in Mumbai this week to launch
his most recent book, Mad And Divine. The book challenges the separation of
the spirit and the body favoured by traditional psychoanalysis-Kakar approaches
the human mind by fusing romance and rationalism, emotions and the intellect,
and the ideals, rituals and superstitions of the East with the more cynical
vision of the West.
"Both these visions are not in opposition...there
is complex co-existence,'' says Kakar gently. "If you neglect either
one, you end up with a fragmented human being.''
We meet in the wide open balcony of an apartment
at the farthest tip of Colaba where Kakar is staying. The grey sea in the
distance appears angry, charged, like a Mumbai taxi driver stuck in bad traffic.
But underneath, you also sense the layers of cool, calm stillness. As Kakar
elaborates on his ideas, you try and make sense of that most elusive and complex
entity-the human mind.
So your well trained, rational side asks:
What is this 'spirit' you refer to? Is it that feeling you get when you hear
a beautiful piece of music? Or see a sudden rainbow? Is the peace arising
out of prayer? Or the ecstasy that comes with sexually embracing a loved one?
Kakar replies that there is only so much that can be explained in neurological,
rational, scientific terms. He gives the example of the ultimate rationalist
writer, V S Naipaul, who once said of his best writing moments, "I don't
know where it's coming from.''
As Kakar writes in Mad And Divine, '...There
are many instances when the spirit touches the psyche. The touch may be barely
noticeable, like the wing of a butterfly whispering against the cheek. The
quest is not to catch and hold the butterfly which will die and become dessicated
if captured. The challenge is to be aware of the spiritual moments as we travel
through life, to look around and see again with the innocent eye.'
"Today, traditional countries like China
are blindly embracing the western rationalist view, and even India-especially
urban India-is in danger of doing so,'' he warns. "Look at the young
modern Indian's cynicism towards Gandhian idealism, for instance. Or, the
ease with which youngsters shrug off relationships and live increasingly insular
lives. In the West, there is no reason to love thy neighbour, except the fear
of burning in purgatory, but India is different. India should not lose its
'fuzzy' side.''
Why is this cause for concern? Because this
approach to human behaviour affects everything-the way we raise our children,
the way schools approach education, even how we handle our spouses and partners.
For instance, the rationalist view believes that information and knowledge
is more important than imagination and intuition, says Kakar. So, schools
tend to follow the blind 'mugging' method rather than one which truly opens
up the mind.
He cites an interesting experiment to show
how even memory retention is connected to emotions. Two people were told that
an accident had taken place, someone was hurt, and the treatment that was
required to heal them. One subject was presented with the bare facts. The
other subject was told the same thing in the form of an emotional story where
there was a father who'd died, and a mother who was hurt, and the child's
reaction. When it came to remembering details about the treatment required
for the victims, the second subject had greater memory retention.
"So, when you feed in information, we
should be telling stories, using much more art, film, music,'' says Kakar,
perhaps echoing the vision of one of India's greatest thinkers, Tagore, who
believed that education should be imparted in open, natural and beautiful
surroundings. "Lectures and exhortations are not going to achieve the
same thing.''
His advice to a parent? "I would always
tell stories to children. It takes a little more effort, but it is much more
effective than just saying, 'Don't do this'.''
Kakar is careful not to confuse what he calls
'spiritual' with the pseudo-religious God clubs that are the national pastime
of so many Indians. Rather, he speaks of it in a transformative sense; it
is the moment when a person transcends the self and connects with a larger
universal energy. However, this side co-exists with the selfish, baser and
darker forces of the human psyche. Which one prevails at which point is what
determines why brothers fight and marriages break up. But most often, even
after experiencing the worst road rage, the taxi driver manages to smile.
Now, analyse that.
