Mathematics as Spiritual Haven in Life by Mamta Joshi SignUp
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Mathematics as Spiritual Haven in Life
by Mamta Joshi Bookmark and Share
 

If there was one subject that invoked agony or ecstasy in school life,it would most definitely be Mathematics.One either loved it or direly hated it but one thing was definite; there was no escape from it.

There is great intrinsic worth in Maths. Nothing is a mystery. If a mistake is made at the very outset, the entire sum can go wrong but then the beauty of Maths also lies in the fact that every glitch can be fixed.

The formula in Mathematics (bracket, of division, multiplication, addition, subtraction) that we learned during school days is downright applicable in real life.

In relationships we hold some dear ones very close, bracketing them within our inner-most circle. As we move on the curve of life, the circle of family members, cousins, friends and colleagues keeps multiplying. It is during the time we spend together, we either bond or keeping spatial awareness in mind, we maintain a respectable distance. If the addition of like minded people in life helps in keeping our wellness there is nothing more therapeutic than snipping off ties with those who create negativity in life. We should subtract them by unbinding the ties, letting in peace of mind rather than let it go into pieces.

Life was divided into various stages by our ancient sages while poets coloured their poetry on an aesthetic plane, by getting inspiration from the seasons of the year.In digital times, social media has further divided the groups into lovers of epiphany or cacophony respectively.

Henry David Thoreau is said to have turned away from active politics towards nature at the height of his political career. Retreating from frenzied life could be an answer for some but many of us move beyond binaries of politics and nature; just because one need not run away from life. It has to be lived, whether the flavour is sweet, tangy, bland or tart.

Sometimes Life is studied minutely, through a microscope; at times with a magnifying glass. One finds that while the good experiences make one complacent, smoothing one’s rough edges, they succeed in making one slide into a comfort zone.The bitter experiences give more insight into life, into people; by being pushed towards the precipice, one’s fighting instincts come to the fore, claws and all, equipping a person to give a knock out punch in the combat.

I have seen people morph into different beings, from diffident to defiant, from being a virago to a compassionate being, from being extremely materialistic to becoming a Sufi, just because their interests were being challenged or not met with.

There is a flashback that comes into my mind about a child- widow who was linked to my life as distant relative but who will stay on in my memory as supreme example of courage and positive approach. With shaven head and coarse clothing, she lived frugally on doles of relatives, who too had humble means. She looked after the household that gave her shelter with a loyalty that bordered on ferocity. She would not hear a mean word by back- stabbers. The numerous children of the joint families were lavished love and care by her. If she was excluded from auspicious occasions, she never betrayed any emotion; silently she stayed in the background, managing the ruffled, chaotic household ,where all were busy drenching themselves in the happiness of a marriage, child-birth or a festive moment . Whenever she visited us, she would take over the household. From sunrise to sunset, she would be busy-cooking for an army, painstakingly cleaning lentils,soaking and grinding them to a paste and preparing ‘badees’, cleaning the cluttered kitchen-store, painting and labeling the boxes with her untidy scrawl for being unlettered, she had schooled herself with the help of children she raised. As she grew old and frail, she was confined to the lower portion of the house, while we all would remain in the upper chambers, enjoying the noisy company of cousins. I remember apologizing to her once that the deafening noise we make upstairs must be disturbing her siesta. She held my hand and said,” With that noise, I don’t feel lonely. I revel that I am alive, surrounded by my loved ones.”

The frail, tiny woman, with a few grimy sarees as her possession,had nothing in life that was worth celebrating but she taught me that each pulse, each palpitation should be a trophy.

When we are here to live, let’s BODMAS life!

20-Mar-2016
More by :  Mamta Joshi
 
Views: 239
Article Comment Mamtaji,

Thanks for sharing with us such a heartwarming essay.

My gratitude to you.
Kulbir
04/05/2016
 
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