Ирвин Ялом - The Schopenhauer Cure
short plump Buddha–like body bearing an elephant`s head. Everyone—the priest, the men
dressed in gleaming white, and the women robed in saffron and magenta—carried small
Ganesha statues. Young girls scattered handfuls of flowers, and pairs of adolescent boys
carried poles holding metal burners emitting clouds of incense. Amid the clash of
cymbals and the roll of drums, everyone chanted, «Ganapathi bappa Moraya, Purchya
varshi laukariya.»
«Pardon me, can you tell me what they`re chanting?» Pam turned to the copper–skinned man sitting opposite her sipping tea, the only other passenger sharing the
compartment. He was a delicate win–some man dressed in a loose white cotton shirt and
trousers. At the sound of Pam`s voice he swallowed the wrong way and coughed
furiously. Her question delighted him since he had been attempting, in vain, since the
train commenced in Bombay to strike up a conversation with the handsome woman
sitting across from him. After a vigorous cough he replied, with a squeak, «My apologies,
madam. Physiology is not always at one`s command. What the people here, and
throughout all of India today, are saying is вЂBeloved Ganapati, lord of Moraya, come
again early next year.`”
«Ganapati?»
«Yes, very confusing, I know. Perhaps you know him by his more common name,
Ganesha. He has many other names, as well, for example, Vighnesvara, Vinayaka,
Gajanana.»
«And this parade?»
«The beginning of the ten–day festival of Ganesha. Perhaps you may be fortunate
enough to be in Bombay next week at the end of the festival and witness the entire
population of the city walk into the ocean and immerse their Ganesha statues in incoming
waves.»
«Oh, and that? A moon? Or sun?» Pam pointed to four children carrying a large
yellow papier–mГўchГ© globe.
Vijay purred to himself. He welcomed the questions and hoped the train stop
would be long and that this conversation would go on and on. Such voluptuous women
were common in American movies, but never before had he had the good fortune to
speak to one. This woman`s grace and pale beauty stirred his imagination. She seemed to
have stepped out of the ancient erotic carvings of the Kama Sutra. And where might this
encounter lead? he wondered. Could this be the life–changing event for which he had
long sought? He was free, his garment factory had, by Indian standards, made him
wealthy. His teenaged fiancГ©e died of tuberculosis two years ago, and, until his parents
selected a new bride, he was unencumbered.
«Ah, it is a moon the children hold. They carry it to honor an old legend. First, you
must know that Lord Ganesha was renowned for his appetite. Note his ample belly. He
was once invited for a feast and stuffed himself with desert pastries called laddoos. Have
you eaten laddoos?»
Pam shook her head, fearing that he might produce one from his valise. A close
friend had contracted hepatitis from a tea shop in India, and thus far she had heeded her
physician`s advice to eat nothing but four–star–hotel food. When away from the hotel she
had limited herself to food she could peel—mainly tangerines, hard–boiled eggs, and
peanuts.
«My mother made wonderful coconut almond laddoos,” Vijay continued.
«Essentially, they are fried flour balls with a sweet cardamom syrup—that sounds
prosaic, but you must believe me when I say they are far more than the sum of their
ingredients. But back to Lord Ganesha, who was so stuffed that he could not stand up
properly. He lost his balance, fell, his stomach burst, and all the laddoos tumbled out.
«This all took place at night with only one witness, the moon, who found the event
hilarious. Enraged, Ganesha cursed the moon and banished him from the universe.
However, the whole world lamented the moon`s absence, and an assembly of gods asked
Lord Shiva, Ganesha`s father, to persuade him to relent. The penitent moon also
apologized for his misbehavior. Finally, Ganesha modified his curse and announced that
the moon need be invisible only one day a month, partially visible the remainder of the
month, and for one day only would be permitted to be visible in its full glory.»
A brief silence and Vijay added, «And now you know why the moon plays a role in
Lord Ganesha festivals.»
«Thank you for that explanation.»
«My name is Vijay, Vijay Pande.»
«And mine is Pam, Pam Swanvil. What a delightful story, and what a fantastical
droll god—that elephant head and Buddha body. And yet the villagers seem to take their
myths so seriously...as though they were really—”
«It`s interesting to consider the iconography of Lord Ganesha,” Vijay gently
interrupted as he pulled from his shirt a large neck pendant on which was carved the
image of Ganesha. «Please note that every feature on Ganesha has a serious meaning, a
life instruction. Consider the large elephant head: it tells us to think big. And the large
ears? To listen more. The small eyes remind us to focus and to concentrate and the small
mouth to talk less. And I do not forget Ganesha`s instruction—even at this moment as I
talk to you I remember his counsel and I warn myself not to talk too much. You must
help by telling me when I tell you more than you wish to know.»
«No, not at all. I`m most interested in your comments on iconography.»
«There are many others; here, look closer—we Indians are very serious people.»
He reached into the leather bag he wore on his shoulder and held out a small magnifying
lens.
Taking the glass, Pam leaned over to peer at Vijay`s pendant. She inhaled his
aroma of cinnamon and cardamon and freshly ironed cotton cloth. How was it possible
for him to smell so sweet and so fresh in the close dusty train compartment? «He has only
one tusk,” she observed.
«Meaning: retain the good, throw away the bad.»
«And what`s that he holds? An ax?»
«To cut off all bonds of attachment.»
«That sounds like Buddhist doctrine.»
«Yes, remember that the Buddha emerged from the mother ocean of Shiva.»
«And Ganesha holds something in the other hand. It`s hard to see. A thread?»
«A rope to pull one ever closer to your highest goal.»
The train suddenly lurched and began to move forward.
«Our vehicle is alive again,” said Vijay. «Note Ganesha`s vehicle—there under his
foot.»
Pam moved closer to look through the lens and inhale Vijay`s scent discreetly.
«Oh, yes, the mouse. I`ve seen it in every statue and painting of Ganesha. I`ve never
known why a mouse.»
«That`s the most interesting attribute of all. The mouse is desire. You may ride it
but only if you keep it under control. Otherwise it causes havoc.»
Pam fell silent. As the train chugged on past scrawny trees, occasional temples,
water buffalo in muddy ponds, and farms whose red soil had been exhausted by
thousands of years of work, she looked at Vijay and felt a wave of gratitude. How
unobtrusively, how gently, he had taken out his pendant and saved her from the
embarrassment of speaking irreverently about his religion. When had she ever been so
graced by a man? But no, she reminded herself, don`t shortchange other dear men. She
thought about her group. There was Tony, who would do anything for her. And Stuart,
too, could be generous. And Julius, whose love seemed unending. But Vijay`s subtlety—
that was uncommon, that was exotic.
And Vijay? He too fell into a reverie, reviewing his conversation with Pam.
Uncommonly excited, his heart raced, and he sought to calm himself. Opening his leather
shoulder pouch, he took out an old wrinkled cigarette package, not to smoke—the
package was empty, and besides he had heard of how peculiar Americans were about
smoking. He merely wished to study the blue–and–white package, which bore the
silhouette of a man wearing a top hat and, in firm black letters, the brand name, The
Passing Show.
One of his first religious teachers had called his attention to the Passing Show, a
brand of cigarettes his father smoked, and instructed him to begin his meditation by
thinking of all of life as a passing show, a river carrying all objects, all experience, all
desires, past his unswerving attention. Vijay meditated on the image of a flowing river
and listened to his mind`s soundless words,anitya, anitya —impermanence. Everything is
impermanent, he reminded himself; all of life and all experience glide by as surely and
irrevocably as the passing landscape seen through the train window. He closed his eyes,
breathed deeply, and rested his head upon his seat; his pulse slowed as he entered the
welcome harbor of equanimity.
Pam, who had been eyeing Vijay discreetly, picked up the wrapping that had fallen
to the floor, read the label, and said, «The Passing Show—that`s an unusual name for
cigarettes.»
Vijay slowly opened his eyes and said, «As I said, we Indians are very serious.
Even our cigarette packages have messages for the conduct of life. Lifeis a passing
show—I meditate on that whenever I feel inner turbulence.»
«Is that what you were just doing a minute ago? I should not have disturbed you.»
Vijay smiled and gently shook his head. «My teacher once said that one can not be
disturbed by another. It is only oneself who can disturb one`s equanimity.» Vijay
hesitated, realizing even as it happened that he was awash in desire: he so craved the
attention of his traveling companion that he had turned his meditation practice into a
mere curiosity—all for the sake of a smile from this lovely woman who was simply an
apparition, part of the passing show, soon to pass out of his life and to dissolve into the
nonbeing of the past. And knowing, too, that his next words would only take him farther
from his path, Vijay nonetheless rashly plunged ahead.
«There is something I would like to say: I shall long treasure our meeting and our
conversation. Shortly I shall depart from this train to an ashram where I must face silence
for the next ten days, and I am immeasurably grateful for the words we have exchanged,
the moments we have shared. I am reminded of American prison films where the
condemned man is permitted to order anything he wishes for his last meal. May I say that
I have had my wishes for a last conversation fully granted.»
Pam simply nodded. Rarely at a loss for words, she did not know how to respond
directly to Vijay`s courtliness. «Ten days at an ashram? Do you mean Igatpuri? I`m on
my way there to a retreat.»
«Then we have the same destination and the same goal—to be taught Vipassana
meditation by the honored guru Goenka. And very soon, too—it is the next stop.»
«Did you say вЂten days of silence`?»
«Yes, Goenka always requires noble silence—aside from necessary discussions
with the staff, the students are to utter no words. Are you experienced in meditation?»
Pam shook her head no. «I`m a university professor. I teach English literature, and
last year one of my students had a healing and transformative experience at Igatpuri. This
student has become very active in organizing Vipassana retreats in the United States and
is currently helping to plan an American tour by Goenka.»
«Your student hoped to offer her teacher a gift. She wished that you, too, would
undergo a transformation?»
«Well, something like that. It wasn`t that she felt I needed to change some
particular thing about myself; it was more that she had profited so much that she wanted
me, and others, to have the same experience.»
«Of course. My question was ill put; in no way did I mean to suggest that you need
transformation. I was interested in your student`s enthusiasm. But did she prepare you for
this retreat in any way?»
«She pointedly did not. She herself stumbled upon this retreat quite by accident and
said that it would be best if I too entered it with an entirely open mind. You`re shaking
your head. You disagree.»
«Ah, remember that Indians shake their heads from side to side when they agree
and up and down when they disagree—the reverse of the American custom.»
«Oh my God. I think I`ve sensed this unconsciously because so much of my
interaction with people here has been slightly askew. I must have confused people I
spoke with.»
«No, no, Indians who come into contact with Westerners make that adaptation. As
for your student`s advice to you, I am not certain I agree that you should be entirely
unprepared. Let me point out that this is not a beginner`s retreat. Noble silence,
meditation beginning at fourA.M. , little sleep, one meal a day. A difficult regimen. You
must be strong. Ah, the train slows. We are at Igatpuri.»
Vijay stood, collected his belongings, and lifted Pam`s valise down from the
overhead rack. The train stopped. Vijay prepared to leave and said, «The experience
begins.»
Vijay`s words offered little comfort, and Pam was growing more apprehensive.
«Does that mean we will not be able to speak to one another during the retreat?»
«No communication, not written, not sign language.»
«E–mail?»
Vijay did not smile. «Noble silence is the correct path to benefit from Vipassana.»
He seemed different. Pam felt him already drifting away.
«At least,” she said, «it will offer me comfort to know you are there. It`s less
foreboding to imagine being alone together.»
«Alone together. A felicitous phrase,” Vijay responded without looking at her.
«Perhaps,” Pam said, «we may meet again on this train after the retreat.»
«Of that we must not think. Goenka will teach us that it is only the present we must
inhabit. Yesterday and tomorrow do not exist. Past remembrances, future longings, only
produce disquiet. The path to equanimity lies in observing the present and allowing it to
float undisturbed down the river of our awareness.» Without looking back, Vijay hoisted
his bag onto his shoulder, opened the doors of the compartment, and walked away.
16
Schopenhauer`
s Main Woman
_________________________
Onlythe male intellect,
clouded by the sexual impulse,
could call the undersized,
narrow–shouldered, broad–hipped, and short–legged sex
the fair sex.
—Arthur Schopenhauer on women
Youreternal quibbles, your
laments over the stupid world
and human misery, give me bad
nights and unpleasant dreams....
I have not had a single
unpleasant moment I did not
owe to you.
—A letter to Arthur Schopenhauer
from his mother
_________________________
The most important woman, by far, in Arthur`s life was his mother, Johanna, with whom
he had a tormented and ambivalent relationship which ended in cataclysm. Johanna`s
