Necessity is the mother of invention. Whenever you land in trouble, you have to find a way out of it. The prime weapon of survival is the mind. We operate at multiple levels. The will to survive is instinctive, but the choices are not. The inner environment governs your life. Thought is the secret key which shapes our actions.
I met a senior Army officer at a party. He was enjoying his drink. When I refused, he looked at me and said, “Ik tu Punjabi, ik tu policewala, tu daaru nahi peenda...” The same Army officer later joined the terrorists. I was an SP during Operation Bluestar. A prominent baba had threat to his life and was advised to go to Haryana. He came to my district. I was called by the Chief Minister and told to take his special care. The Army officer later fell in action by the security forces.
I observed the babas from very close quarters. They control the thoughts of their followers. Some of these babas were on the hit list, and had detailed talks with me. I was amazed at their intelligence and the hold they had on their followers. I found some of them very useful when I was working in the Intelligence Bureau. Politicians try to cultivate them to win the elections.
Every situation teaches you many things and adds a creative dimension to your personality. The firefly shines only when on the wing. So it is with the mind. When we rest, we darken. We are the product of our environment. Hardship produces strongly delineated characters. Our social environment leaves a strong stamp on our personality.
Once, I was coming out of Parliament House. The guard saluted. I thought some VIP was coming and I looked back. It was Phoolan Devi. She was a Member of Parliament at that time. I stepped aside, and said “Behanji, pehle aap.” She gave me a contemptuous look and said, “Ab ye policewala bhi mujhe Behanji kehta hai.” The wheel had come full circle for her after facing the harsh side of the police force since her days in the ravine.
This lockdown amid the pandemic has been like house arrest. I realised that in idleness alone, there is despair. Sitting alone, I always remember a line inscribed on the village bus, “Sawari apne maal asbab ki khud zimmedar hai.” I have seen that delivery matters in life.
The past is history while the future is a mystery. The moment is the gift. One has to be grateful to God for his blessings. I read Urdu poetry. The inner tapes need to be reprogrammed. The aim is to find peace and happiness within through thoughts and actions that are in harmony with your real self.
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