The art and science of cultural adaptation

Comes any interview and one of the inevitable HR question would be "How open are you to relocation/working in remote areas?" We often have the best ready-made answer to this, "I am open to relocation to anywhere, as long as I learn new things and grow along a definite career path". The hidden intent would be something like "Yes, I am open to relocation, as I am not very fond of starving to death without a Job!"

Very few of us get the opportunity to be really eligible to say that yes I am indeed open to relocation; my life until now being testimony to it. It is just a case of broadening one's perspective; adaptation is inherent in our nature, we just need to let the process take its natural course. The best way out is always through, and the more flexible we remain through it, the more easy the adaptation becomes. The learning is best done in practice, and if you get to experience these at a young age, the wisdom becomes an inseparable part of our personality.

This incident happened to me at a tender age when I was at Joshimath, Chamoli Dt. Uttarakhand. It was 2001 and I was a grade 6 student then. Being a military brat, this was my fourth school already. Life would have seven schools for me ahead. Change of school and friends was hard, and I was learning to adapt in the hard way. From a meagre school in Leh, at sub-zero temperatures, here I was in Joshimath, having to climb down some 500 steps to reach my school – which was relatively easy. I can’t believe it now, but back then I wished the school never ended in the evening -        climbing 500 stairs on a daily basis to reach the main road is a terrific trekking experience after school!

One fine day my father decided to up my learning ante and imbibe in me a learning for life, back then! It was a casual weekend that he suddenly announced that we are going to a nearby temple, where an annual religious ceremony is being held. Temples had always been a place to rejuvenate myself and enjoy the sweet prasad, until then. Little did I know then that it could also teach me life lessons on cultural adaptation!

To reach anywhere in Uttarakhand, you essentially have to deal with stairs, in hundreds and thousands. The pahadi women in these parts deserve a salute as they risk their life, negotiating through such dangerously hilly terrains on a daily basis, in search of firewood and other essentials. After climbing down some zillion steps that day, we saw the temple standing there with all its might. There was a small level ground nearby, where people had gathered in large numbers, to witness the “ceremony”! The ceremonial chants of strange mantras added to the panic in me; they sounded scarier to me as a child, with the comprehensible and violent vigour in each verses. The temple is after all an abode to lord Narasimha!

The devotees had formed a circular gathering in the ground, with considerable space inside. I was expecting a native play or drama as the crowd seemed such enthusiastic about getting a decent place to stand and witness the ceremony. So after a quick darshan inside the temple, we too found ourselves a comfortable position in the gathering. Slowly the poojas began and an abnormally lean Pujari took centre stage. The items kept there seemed strange to me – raw rice, about 20 Kgs in a big basket, big Jaggery balls in another, wild flowers and some large knives and swords, reverentially kept on a holy red cloth! Little did I notice then the little white sheep tied at a small distance from all this. The Pujari was busy chanting mantras and performing strange actions. He was, unknown to me then, conjuring lord Narasimha himself unto him! And after some time it became visibly happening, atleast for my young mind and others around – he started performing stunts which are humanely not possible for a normal person, unless trained from a very early age. He seemed to be running around, at times flying, generating loud, flamboyant and non-recognizable sounds, bathing himself in cold water, rolling around and countless other dares! I felt like either he has lost his mind or indeed lord Narasimha has taken over possession of the Pujari’s body – the later thought was shared by everyone around me.

After some time as the Pujari’s helpers brought in the tied little sheep to the centre, I suddenly knew where this was going! The excited people suddenly became more excited, throwing flower petals, coins and currency notes towards the centre! It seemed to be a go ahead signal to the Pujari. In a flash, he took out the longest sword, and in a clean strike, beheaded the sheep! The act was just getting started as he caught hold of the profoundly bleeding body, separated from its head and began pouring the freshly oozing blood into the raw rice kept in the basket nearby. To add to the recipe, he then crushed and mixed the jaggery into it. Add a bit of water and some flowers and lord Narasimha seemed to have enjoyed the cuisine for the day. He ate the mixture with such verve, as though he had been hungry for a decade. I still can’t explain how a human can eat some 5-10 Kgs of raw rice, mixed with blood and jaggery! There comes time when logic ceases to exist and you don’t feel like looking for it either.

As a young boy, the scenes left a scary and lifelong inscription in my mind. I have always been a non-vegetarian throughout my life, yet I could never stand witnessing the killing process, which my Dad knew, yet here I was beholding something which felt horrendous for a young mind to soak in! Finding sleep at night after such an experience that day was out of equation for me. I decided to fight it out with my father, who was solely responsible for this. “Why on earth did you take me to the ceremony, when you knew very well that I could not bear seeing animals being killed in cold blood?”

There are times when you learn something and forget it later. And at other lucky times, the learning and realization happens at the same instant that they turn your thinking dimension upside down. New uncharted dimensions emerge and you wonder how the truth was such naïve and still concealed from you!

“Dear Son, You noticed the inhuman killing of the poor animal, but did you also see the devotee’s reverence and worship towards the whole process? Did you see the human take on a form that is just not explainable by simple logic or science for that matter? There are thousands of cultures and traditions followed in our country. Each may seem strange or brutal than any real fiction. But the point is that they do exist, and however obscene they may seem, are practiced and followed by people, just like you and me. It doesn’t matter if a particular tradition here seems unhuman for us – this becomes more important for us in particular. We in the defense service are always accustomed to transfers to locations so remote, reaching there itself will be a tale to be recorded. And as my legacy I need you, my Son, to realize the truth at this young age. You have already been accustomed to transfers and change of schools. That was more out of compulsion than you being open to it. Can you imagine if you were habitually welcoming to such changes and being gracefully adaptive to changing cultures and practices as we move around? I need you to open up your mind to accept the greater reality. A frog which stays in a well throughout its life can never appreciate the might of an ocean. When you learn to adapt at an early age the hard way, it gradually becomes effortless in your later stages of life. This was the precise reason I wanted you to witness today’s ceremony. Adaptation is both an art and a science. Science because it is universally applicable, art because it requires application at a practical level and requires personal skills. And at the end of it all, you either adapt or perish. The choice is yours, my Son!”