Professor Chandra Follows His Bliss

by Rajeev Balasubramanyam

  He opened his eyes. Elke’s were closed.

  “Thank you,” she said, and looked toward the front.

  WHEN HE ENTERED the yurt the following morning, Chandra saw Elke kneeling on a cushion by the wall. He sat on a chair at the back as before and closed his eyes, though he made no attempt to meditate. He had slept poorly, kept awake by the braggadocio of the sea which he had hoped would prove soporific. When he had left his room, however, he’d been shocked to see the water only meters away, so vast, so unchanged, so indifferent, and was struck by the realization that he was somewhere quite new, an environment whose purpose had been alien to him until now.

  “And now gently open your eyes,” said Rudi Katz, which caused Chandra to wonder how one violently opened one’s eyes. “And take a breath,” which also seemed extraneous, for they would hardly have asphyxiated in their chairs without this instruction.

  “Last night was a warm-up,” said Katz, who was wearing the same cream shirt and pants as yesterday. “Today we begin the real work. I’ve been running the following exercise for years and, believe me, it goes deep, so if at any moment you feel it’s getting too much for you then go outside, take a walk by the sea or a drink of water, and come back when you’re ready.

  “I’m going to divide you into groups of four. You’ll need to sit in circles, preferably on the floor, and talk. That’s all, just talk. But you’ve got to be absolutely, strictly honest. No cop-outs. We’re looking to break through today, to get to what we really think, how we really feel.

  “We’re going to repeat what we did yesterday, tell each other what our critical voices say, and you’re going to respond to each other. Speak from the gut. There are no restrictions on language here. The only thing we don’t tolerate is physical abuse of any kind. That is out of the question.”

  Katz raised his eyebrows so high they looked like hairpins.

  “If anyone isn’t prepared to do this then say so now. Don’t worry. Some people aren’t ready for it, and we respect autonomy here.” Katz seemed to be looking at Chandra, who fingered his car keys in his trouser pocket. “But if you’re not sure, give it a try. The worst that can happen is someone will say something you don’t like, but then you have the opportunity to observe your reaction, which is where it gets interesting. You might be surprised by how liberating you find it.

  “I’ll be walking around, intervening from time to time, just guiding, nothing more, but if you need me snap your fingers or call me over and I’ll be there. I’m not going to leave this room.”

  Pam, the Indian girl sitting in front of Chandra, raised her hand, keeping it raised while she asked her question.

  “So we’re allowed to insult each other?”

  “You’re allowed to say what you feel, Pam. How the other person reacts is their business.”

  “Can you write that on the board?”

  “I think it’s pretty clear.”

  Pam looked hurt, and lowered her hand.

  “Do we have to inform you if we leave the room?” asked Sally.

  “No,” said Katz. “Just go. It’s up to you. Okay. Let’s start. I’ll come help divide you into your groups.”

  Professor Chandra knew this trick. Katz had said, “Okay,” almost instantly in order to prevent further questions. They were all uneasy, that much was clear: questions cushioned, or rather delayed, the blow.

  Elke was too far away to be in Chandra’s group, but he did find himself with Pam, the Indian girl. Also in Chandra’s circle was a man in his thirties called Bryan with blond curls that hung over his eyebrows, and a woman called Daisy, perhaps ten or fifteen years younger than Chandra, with a thin but perfectly symmetrical face and long gray hair down to her tailbone. She was wearing a flowing white dress that reminded him of a merciful, yet powerful, witch.

  They sat on cushions in a tight circle at the back, Chandra leaning against the wall beside Daisy. He would have preferred a chair, but he didn’t want anyone to think he considered himself superior.

  Bryan, sitting cross-legged, was smiling, making eye contact with each of them in turn, while Daisy did the opposite, looking pointedly past Pam who was biting the nail polish off her fingers. Chandra resisted the urge to tell her to stop.

  “I don’t want to begin,” said Daisy, “but none of you are speaking so I kind of feel I have to. I don’t know why. I’ve done workshops with Rudi before; I guess that’s why.”

  “I think we’ve got to say our strings first, haven’t we?” said Bryan.

  “Oh, that’s right. You go ahead,” said Daisy, looking down and smoothing her meter-long cylinder of gray hair.

  “My first string,” said Bryan, “is that—like a lot of people—I’m kind of selfish. I don’t spend enough time with my son, though there are reasons for that, and now I work myself so hard because I feel guilty, which means I still don’t have much time for other people, and this makes me not as happy as I could be.”

  He hadn’t stopped smiling all the while, and now he rubbed his hands together.

  “Anyone want to respond?” said Bryan. “Or do we keep going?”

  “I’ll go,” said Daisy. “My first string is that I don’t think I’m a people person. It’s just not my thing, but most people feel there’s something wrong with me, like I’m this antisocial old hag who’s not alive or something. I don’t care. I’m fine with it. I mean, I know people feel sorry for me and say stuff like, ‘She must be so miserable,’ and whatever, but I don’t feel like that. I used to be married—I didn’t say that yesterday—and I have a son who’s sick. I love him, but I don’t think about him all the time and I don’t tear out my hair. I just accept it. I don’t miss my husband. I don’t even miss my son much. I like being alone. That’s all. Thank you.”

  “Well, I guess you remember me,” said Pam, undoing and redoing the second button of her blouse in a way that suggested highly performative but perfectly genuine neurosis. “I’m a lawyer. I mean, I will be. I live in Fremont with my parents, but I’m going to move to SF soon, and it’s going to be expensive but I need my own place. And my thing is I just don’t think I have as much money as I need, or as I want, and I spend all day wishing I had more and thinking my life’s dull and boring and I won’t be happy till I’ve got more, a lot more, and soon I’ll be earning pretty well but I know it won’t be enough, not for another twenty years at least, and I hate that I have to wait that long and I guess that makes me shallow, but…”

  Pam grinned, giggled, and was quiet. It was Chandra’s turn. He had waded in up to his neck, it felt, was about to take the final, definitive step.

  “My name is Chandra,” said Chandra. “And I’ve had a good career. I have three children, but I’m divorced now and I hardly see them. I think of myself as having accomplished nothing in life, and the truth is I may not be around all that much longer. Who can say? I used to be so confident that I was right and everyone else was wrong, but now I think maybe it was me who was wrong, especially now that I see how happy my wife is without me. If this is a midlife crisis, it’s happening too late. I’m sixty-nine years old. But I’m here, and I never thought I would be in a place like this.”

  Chandra was pleased with his speech. Forthrightness was coming more easily to him now. He was almost disappointed when Pam turned to Daisy instead of him.

  “So you really don’t feel anything, Daisy?” she said. “No emotions? Nothing?”

  “I feel things,” said Daisy. “I just don’t need people the way others do. I like my own company and my solitude.”

  “But you said your son is sick,” said Chandra.

  “Yeah,” said Pam. “Don’t you feel anything about your son?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Daisy.

  “Say how you feel,” said Rudi, hovering behind Bryan.

  “I feel you might not be as cold as you say you are,” said Bryan, with his Califor
nian grin.

  “No,” said Rudi. “How do you feel? Don’t say what you think she feels.”

  “Well, I guess I feel a little sorry for you,” said Bryan.

  Daisy raised her eyebrows, a passable imitation of Rudi Katz.

  “Why do you feel sorry for her?” said Chandra.

  “Maybe she wants to reach out to people but she’s scared. It’s tough being alone. It becomes a habit. I know. I’ve been there.”

  “I like being alone,” said Daisy, her eyes harder now.

  “Do you feel sorry for Daisy, Pam?” said Rudi.

  “Kind of. But I’m pretty creeped out too. It’s like…it’s weird; like she doesn’t care about the rest of us, like we could all die and she wouldn’t care.”

  “Since when did liking being alone become wanting you all to die?” said Daisy.

  “I didn’t say you wanted us all to die,” said Pam.

  “And I didn’t say I don’t have any feelings.”

  “You said you didn’t really like people,” said Pam. “I guess I find that hurtful.”

  “Good,” said Rudi.

  “I mean, we’re all people here, and you’re saying you don’t like us.”

  “I never said that,” said Daisy.

  “And if you don’t like us then why should we like you? I mean, you get what you put out in the end, isn’t that true?” said Pam.

  Chandra nodded; he also found Daisy cold, but it didn’t bother him as much. He wondered if this was an age thing, if older people were simply more tolerant.

  “You’re pretty hostile, Pam,” said Daisy.

  “I don’t mean to be hostile,” said Pam, her eyes becoming marginally wetter.

  “But you are. You’ve got a lot of rage inside you.”

  “And?” said Rudi.

  “And I don’t like it. It makes me uncomfortable. You started judging me after thirty seconds and it’s because of your rage. You didn’t even listen to what I said. I just said I’m not a people person and I like being alone. You’ve made it all about you.”

  “What’s wrong with your son?” asked Chandra.

  “He had a psychotic break eleven years ago. He’s schizophrenic. He was at home for a long time but now he needs permanent care.”

  “And how does this make you feel, Chandra?” asked Rudi. “How do you feel about Daisy?”

  “It’s a sad story,” said Chandra. “It makes me feel sad. We can’t control what happens to our children. I’m very sad about my own children.”

  “I feel sad listening to both of you,” said Pam. “Sad and depressed. I don’t want to get old.”

  “Okay, that’s good,” said Rudi. “You’re getting it. Holler if you need me.”

  Katz walked away. Chandra turned to face Pam. She was on the heavy side, dressed in a light pink blouse and a white skirt, and she wore a lot of makeup, but underneath that, Chandra could see a girl, a child.

  “Are you South Indian, Pam?” asked Chandra.

  “I’m me. I’m Pam.”

  “But Pam isn’t an Indian name?”

  “Pam is my name,” said Pam.

  “I know, I was just wondering where you’re from.”

  “I told you. I live in Fremont. I’m from the Bay.”

  “But your parents are South Indian?” said Chandra, knowing he should stop.

  “Why don’t you ask about Bryan’s parents?” said Pam. “Or Daisy’s?”

  “I feel uncomfortable now,” said Bryan. “Like something’s going on.”

  “I’m just asking about her name,” said Chandra.

  “You’re trying place her,” said Daisy. “And why not? It won’t kill her, will it?”

  “I want all of you to back off,” said Pam. “I feel attacked.”

  “Nobody is attacking you,” said Daisy.

  “Then why do you need to know what I am? I’m me. I’m Pam. I’ve told you.”

  “Why are you being defensive?” said Daisy.

  “I’m not being defensive.”

  “You are. It’s obvious.”

  “It’s okay,” said Bryan. “You’re just protecting your own space.”

  “I don’t like being interrogated,” said Pam. “I’m not on trial.”

  “I was just asking a question,” said Chandra. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “That’s bullshit,” said Pam. “Sorry, but it is.”

  “How do you feel, Chandra?” asked Bryan.

  “Like I’m talking to my daughter,” said Chandra.

  “Well, I’m not your daughter,” said Pam. “I’m me. I’m Pam.”

  “Christ, we get it,” said Daisy.

  “Excuse me?” said Pam.

  “I’ve just never heard anyone say their own name so many times.”

  “My name’s Pammi,” said Pam. “Yes, it’s Indian. I’m half Bengali. My name means lovable.”

  “And half what?” said Chandra.

  “Punjabi!” said Pam. “God!”

  “Do you feel you know her better now, Chandra?” asked Bryan.

  “I don’t know,” said Chandra. “I was just curious. I didn’t want to make her angry.”

  “But you could see it was annoying her,” said Daisy.

  “Yes, but I didn’t know why. It was an innocent question. My daughter is the same. Whatever I say to her she gets angry.”

  “And you feel angry back?” said Daisy.

  “I feel confused. I don’t understand why they have to get so angry all the time.”

  “Why did you have to know those things?” said Pam. “Why can’t you just talk to me like I’m a person?”

  “I was talking to you like you’re a person. I just wanted to know if you were Indian. I’m Indian. You look like you are Indian. I was curious. Why is that wrong? I don’t understand it. I said one thing and you flew off the handle.”

  “Do you feel he’s projecting his daughter on to you, Pam?” said Bryan.

  “Actually, I feel like I’m talking to my dad. I’ve had enough of talking to my dad.”

  “Do you feel ashamed of being Indian?” said Daisy.

  “Do you feel guilty for having a psychotic son?”

  “Yes,” said Daisy.

  “Wow,” said Bryan.

  “Wow what, Bryan?” said Pam. “Do you really think anyone buys that you’re this chilled-out happy-go-lucky surfer dude who loves everyone and himself twenty-four-seven?”

  “I never said I was any of those things,” said Bryan. “I said I work too hard, and I’m carrying a lot of guilt about my son, and I don’t spend any time with my boyfriend even though we live together, and I don’t know how long he’ll take that for but I’m unable to stop because if I did I’d have to face myself. So yeah, I have problems, and I’m not happy all the time.”

  “Yeah, you’re human, we get it,” said Pam. “The rest of us are unhinged dysfunctional lunatics but you’ve just got regular normal-guy stuff which means you can sit there smiling while we all bawl and yell and tear each other’s faces off.”

  “No,” said Bryan, his smile vanishing. “That isn’t how I feel.”

  “That’s how it looks,” said Pam.

  “You see?” said Daisy. “Hostile.”

  “And what else?” said Pam. “What is it you really want to say?”

  “You’re a spoiled, hostile little bitch,” said Daisy, whose body looked so brittle that if Pam did slap her, as she was shaping up to, Chandra thought she might shatter like a stage vase.

  “I’m feeling uncomfortable now,” said Bryan. “I don’t know where all this came from.”

  “It came from me,” said Chandra. “I started this.”

  “So you feel guilty?” said Bryan.

  “Yes,” said Chandra, wanting to sit on a ch
air but not daring. “I feel guilty.”

  “How’s it going?” said Rudi, manifesting to their right.

  “It’s getting hot in here,” said Bryan.

  Rudi sat beside Daisy with his back to the wall so he could see everyone except Chandra, who was on Daisy’s other side.

  “How are you feeling, Bryan?” said Rudi.

  “Like I always feel when I’m watching other people fight.”

  “Which is?”

  “Like I want to be somewhere else.”

  “Did you watch your parents fight?” said Rudi.

  “Yep.”

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  “Like I wanted to disappear. Like it was my fault. Like they could turn on me at any time.”

  “How about you, Chandra?” said Rudi, leaning forward to make eye contact. “How’s it going?”

  “I upset Pam,” said Chandra.

  “He feels guilty,” said Daisy.

  “I don’t care,” said Pam. “It’s nothing. It’s not important.”

  “So that’s how you feel, Pam?” said Rudi. “That your feelings aren’t important.”

  “I’m emotional!” said Pam. “I got emotional. Sometimes I blow things out of proportion.”

  “We don’t have to apologize for our emotions in here,” said Rudi. “We are our emotions. If we say our emotions aren’t important, we’re saying we aren’t important. If we say our emotions are nothing, we’re saying we’re nothing.”

  “Was that how you felt as a kid, Pam?” said Bryan. “Like you were nothing?”

  “I guess.”

  “Was that how you felt when Chandra was talking to you?” said Rudi. “I mean, I don’t know what he said, and it probably doesn’t matter that I don’t know. I just want to know how you felt.”

  “I felt like he wasn’t seeing me,” said Pam. “Like he thought he was more important than me. Like he could just tell me who I was and tell me what to do and I should shut up and listen because I’m stupid and pointless and I’ll never be as good as he is.”

  “I didn’t say any of that,” said Chandra. “I just asked if she was Indian, for God’s sake.”