The ever complex Rubik's cube of life?

Recently, I caught an obituary announcement on social media. An old working senior had passed on. Even though my interaction with that person was short, it left an unpleasant aftertaste. From his demeanour, I learnt how not to disrespect my subordinates. This person was so vile in his comments during high-level meetings that my boss would ask me or one of my colleagues to accompany him for moral support. His scoldings were so personal that they bordered on testing my department's competence and even intelligence.

Everyone let out an air of relief when he was transferred for a promotion. Why a person of such arrogance should be rewarded was the million-dollar question. But then, we were glad that our problem was somebody else's. That was the last I heard of him until the fateful announcement.

There it was, the photograph of him with a toothful smile on his face, innocence oozing down his face, and religious symbols below it. It was his obituary announcement. Under that, a long list of his friends and relatives left touching comments. The impression that I got was that he must have left such an indelible mark in their lives. Then there were comments about how good a father, an uncle and a resource person he had been.

We tend to forget that doctors, engineers, shopkeepers, labourers, and security guards are not defined by the uniform or outfit they don. Outside their regular working hours, they are expected to assume other roles—a parent, a comedian, a musician, or a marathon runner. They may suck at their daytime job, but that does not render them beyond reprieve. There is an alternate universe for them.

That incident reminded me of the life and times of Babur, the brutal founder of the Mughal dynasty. A great conqueror he was, he never liked India. He thought that Indians were uncultured and their land was unimpressive compared to Afghanistan. He wanted their wealth, though.

In 1530, his Humayun fell hopelessly sick. The royal physicians gave up. Babur summoned the Sufi priests. They suggested that Babur should sacrifice something very dear to him. Somebody suggested that the Kohinoor (or some other precious stones, unclear) be given away. The trouble is the diamond belonged to Humayun, not Babur. So it was not his to give away. Instead, Babur circumambulated Humayun's bed three times, recited a prayer to Allah to take his life in exchange for his son's, cried out and fell sick to die three months later.*

There are these multifaceted views of an individual. What we see are representations of part of the picture.

*https://www.srichinmoylibrary.com/me-8

Sri Chinmoy, The Moghul Emperors, Agni Press, 2001

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