As a kid, I had what could euphemistically be called a “robust” temper. I was generally a nice kid, but when I did lose it, I completely lost it. It was what I’d describe as ‘white hot’ anger … the anger I experienced was so intense that I’d physically start to choke. When I was very young – until the age of say 5 – I’d bang my head on a wall if I was angry! I joke about it now, and tell my friends it took me some time to work out that the head-banging business did not really solve anything, and on top of that, it actually hurt! In a way, it was a good experience though … it brought me to the realisation that this particular way of expression wasn’t working for me.
In this article, I’d like to share some of my personal experiences with anger, and how it can cause hurt and pain in our lives (I won’t go into the physiological problems it causes – that’s a separate discussion). Anger can also be a useful and positive thing, if used judiciously. More about that in another article: Using Anger Positively. These are all experiences I had with anger when I was a boy, at ages between say 8 and 11. They taught me a lot about myself, and about anger.
At that time, it was a common practice in India for companies to gift calendars to customers for the new year. We had received one such calendar of a pharmaceutical company from somewhere, perhaps from a family friend who was a doctor. The calendar had beautiful photos of mothers and children, and my mother really loved it. One day, I was angry with my mother about something (ah, kids!). I stormed out of the room where my mother was, looking for some way to express my rage. My eyes fell on this calendar which was hung on the wall in another room. I took it off, and ripped some of the pages. When my mother found out later what I had done, I could see she was very hurt. My mother is an absolute angel and I’ve never known her to scream at us, or at anyone else. I can’t remember much of what she said to me, but I do remember her saying that she was hurt. That made me feel rather bad on the inside, as I’ve always loved my parents deeply. I was trying to justify in my mind that I did it because I was angry, but I also noticed that the justification did not make me feel any better. As a grown-up now, I can say that the reason for your anger does not really matter. Even is you have a valid reason, the way you express the anger is what really matters. Anger, if not channeled properly, can cause a great deal of hurt and damage to us, and to all around us.
At another time, I was doing some cleaning in the family home in Nashik with my father. We were clearing some old paperwork. Something happened, and I got angry with him. My father worked in a bank, and at that time, he been recently promoted to Manager. In the pile of papers we were clearing, and I found an old business card of his from before the promotion, and I vented my anger on it, ripping it up. He saw what I did, and I saw that he saw me do it. I tried to justify what I had done: “It was old, that’s why I tore it,” I said. My father had tears in his eyes and said: “No son, that’s not why you tore it. I know why you tore it, and so do you.” He did not scold me though, and he didn’t pursue the topic. Later when I had calmed down, I felt terrible about bringing tears to my father’s eyes. I realised that anger can make us do things that we regret later. I looked at how I felt … and noticed it made me feel horrible on the inside.
Another time, I got angry with my mother for something, and once again, I was looking to vent. My mother is a very talented singer, and she would practice music when she had spare time (she still does). We have some traditional Indian instruments in our home: a harmonium, a tabla set and a tanpura, which is a stringed instrument used as a companion instrument in classical Indian music. At this particular time, my eyes fell on the tanpura. It was placed on a little three-legged metal pedestal, which had beautifully etched carvings and inlay work. I picked up the tanpura, which was fairly light, and dropped it onto the ground a couple of times. Then I picked it up and put it back on the pedestal again. No one knew what I had done. Later, when I had calmed down, I went and examined the tanpura, and saw the results of my handiwork: a small crack in the main body. I don’t think anyone noticed it, but I knew what I had done. Once again, I noticed how it felt inside: horrible.
One day, I was angry about something, and was looking for something to destroy (see the trend?). In those days, homes in India usually had lofts where unused items from the home were stored. I climbed up to one of the lofts in our home, and found some baya nests. Bayas, also known as weaver birds, create these beautiful nests woven from twigs. The nests have a long, narrow tube at the top and bottom. They are attached to a tree at the top, and the tube at the bottom is used as an entrance. The long thin tube stops larger predatory birds from entering the nest. The central part of the nest is larger, where the eggs are laid and the chicks grow. Once the chicks have grown, the birds abandon the nests. In those days, people from the countryside would collect these empty nests after the baya breeding season and sell them in the cities, to be used as decorative items. They are not to be seen these days, nor are baya nests seen on trees as they used to be in my childhood. I recently saw one tree with several nests in the countryside, and it reminded me how common they used to be, and made me think about how scarce they have become now. Coming back to the story: we had some of these baya nests in the home, and had put them up in the loft as we were no longer using them as decorations. As was my ‘style’ of expressing my anger those days, I completely ripped the nests to shreds. The nests were quite tough, and it took a lot of energy to pull them apart, but I persisted. At the end of it, the nests were destroyed, and I was rather tired. The physical exertion had also calmed me down. But when I looked down at my handiwork, a deep sadness crept up on me. The nests were empty, that no birds were being made homeless, and no one would know what I had done. And yet, to have destroyed what used to be the homes of beautiful living beings, somehow felt wrong.
Were these experiences good or bad? I’m of the opinion that any experience, even it if is painful, can be seen as a good thing if it inspires us to make a change. Though the incidents were painful – personally and to those around me – they taught me beautiful lessons, and they helped me to become who I am today. In that respect, they were wonderful experiences! They made me understand and accept that my anger and my lack of control on it could be very damaging. I then started thinking about what I could do about it. You can read about what I did in this article: Anger Management.
PS: Interestingly, since I wrote this article, I seem to catch my hand on the tanpura very often as I walk past it and that makes a sound. Its like the Spirit of the tanpura telling me: “Don’t be so hard on yourself; you were just a kid. I forgive you, and you should forgive yourself too.” Ah, it is a loving world. And the best way I can think of to express my gratitude for that spirit of generosity is by being the best, greatest and highest version of me I can be.