This Above alL
To live or not to live
Khushwant Singh

WHEN a person can no longer look after himself, it is time for him to call it a day. This is easier said than done. For one with the onset of old age, you perforce begin to rely on your family and friends to help you out. For years I have left it to my daughter to sort out the dozens of pills that I have to swallow morning and evening. It saves me a lot of bother. Since I can no longer drive my own car, I sold it. Whenever I have to visit my eye doctor, I ask Kum Kum Chadha to take a couple of hours off from her office to take me to him.

I can still walk short distances unaided but prefer doing so holding somebody by the arm. When climbing or coming down steps, I need two people to help me go up and down. All this is understandable at my age and not too demanding. I manage to meet my deadlines, put in a bit of reading and earn my keep. I comfort myself with the idea that I can still look after myself doing things that matter and can put off the day of reckoning for some time more.

Soon I may not be able to stand on my feet and be pushed around in a wheelchair, or hire nurses to tend to me to spare my family of all the trouble I am causing them. I may go to an old people’s nursing home to be looked after by a qualified staff of doctors and nurses. Surely, that would be a clear indication that time to quit is at hand.

It needs enormous will power to make your exit. It is easier for people afflicted with terminal diseases or acute, unbearable pain when they decide to end their lives. My late friend Minoo Masani, the Swatantra Party leader, founded an organisation called Die with Dignity with the aim that a person must have the freedom to take his or her own life (he took his own life when his balance of mind was upset).

However, when it came to himself, Minoo took a second wife when he was in his late 80s. He died in his 90s. The one person who, still in good health, decided to call it a day was Acharya Vinobha Bhave, who starved himself to death. The Jains approve of self-extinction when they feel they have had enough of life. It is at this critical juncture that religion of those who believe in one is of some help.

The Gita says that all that are born must die, all that die are reborn. The first part is manifestly true; no one is sure about the second part, except those who have faith in after existence. Likewise, religions like Christianity and Islam believe in the Day of Judgement and resumption of life in heaven or hell, whenever a person dies. Muslims quote the Koran, Ina Lilahi wa inaniat Lilahi Rajioon (What comes from Allah returns to Allah).

Here, if Allah designates the unknown power, then no one can question its veracity—from the known to the unknown. I am not sure whether Muslims will agree with my interpretation.

Finally, comes the problem of how to go about it. The most favoured method of extinguishing one’s life, the easiest and the least messy way is to take an overdose of sleeping pills or a capsule of cyanide. For sleeping pills one has to have a doctor’s prescription. I have no idea how people acquire cyanide.

How to measure success

The most common method used to measure success is by finding out how much wealth a person has. It is as good a gauge as any, provided that the wealth is self-earned and not inherited. Thus, families like the Ambanis, Tatas or Birlas must not be regarded as successes unless their individual members have made personal contributions to producing new items for public consumption.

I do not regard people who make their wealth through the stock market worth consideration. Aziz Premji is a self-made man of wealth who gave the country something it did not have. So in her own way has Shahnaz Hussain, who has made Indian-made cosmetics acceptable to foreign countries. Our women knew little about them till she started producing them on a commercial scale.

Another yardstick to measure success is recognition — not necessarily by the state but by the public. Here again one must guard oneself against the kind of acclaim it is. Men and women in the film and TV world are almost certain to be recognised by film and TV addicts, who number in millions. Amitabh Bachchan would, by any reckoning, be regarded as India’s greatest success story, as would be his newly acquired daughter-in-law Aishwarya Rai because of her stunning looks.

Amitabh has a lot more to him than being the best actor India has ever produced. He is also a good man, and believe it or not, a humble man. I also accord Shabana Azmi similar esteem. She is good to look at, a gifted actress and well dedicated to social service. I wish there were more female celebrities of her calibre.

Then there are success-achievers in the realm of literature, music and fine arts. We have Amitav Ghosh, Rushdie and Vikram Seth, who put India on the world map of English writing. In music we have Amjad Ali Khan, Bhim Sen Joshi, Zubin Mehta and the Mangeshkar sisters. In fine arts we have M.F. Husain, Anjolie Ela Menon, Satish Gujral, Arpana Cour and a few others whose works can been seen in art galleries round
the globe.

And, finally, there are men and women who don’t give a damn whether people do or do not recognise them as successful. These are the greatest of the three categories I have listed. We had Mother Teresa. She was unconcerned with what people thought of her work and oblivious of the veneration she evoked. And we have Prakash Amte and his wife Mandakini, who are unconcerned about their successes.

Acid test

There is a theory around that if a fellow doesn’t smoke, drink, overeat, or go with girls, he will live a lot longer. The trouble is, we won’t know for sure until somebody tries it.

(Courtesy: Shivkar Singh Dalla, Ludhiana)

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