In every life, there are events which alter the course of the future: some in small ways, others dramatically. Some decisions we make in a particular moment seem to be influenced by a specific factor that has our immediate attention, but in hindsight, we are often able to see deeper reasons behind what triggered certain changes in our life.
I had been a non-vegetarian since my childhood. As a typical Indian non-vegetarian though, my intake of meat consisted of chicken, goat meat and fish; beef, pork and other meats are not normally consumed in India by the large majority of non-vegetarians. As a child, I remember going to the meat market with my father, seeing what went on there, and still being able to come home and eat meat with no problems. My brother, on the other hand, could not eat meat for a good few months if he ever went to the meat market.
When I was in my late teens, an interesting event occurred. Chicken was actually my most favourite food in the world at the time. That year, one of my dearest friends was going through a tough time mentally and emotionally. I used to go to a Hanuman temple regularly, and He was my favourite deity at that time in my life. There is a belief in India that in order to gain something, you should be willing to sacrifice something, and in accordance to that belief, I prayed to Lord Hanuman to help resolve my friend’s problems, and in return, I promised to give up my most favourite food: chicken. I decided to go completely vegetarian for a full year: meaning no meat, no fish, and no eggs. I consciously avoided even cakes and other items that contained eggs.
An interesting thing I noted was that I did not feel any cravings or desire to eat those things, even if someone sat at the table with me, eating what was earlier my most favourite dish. Even when they dangled it in front of my nose, I felt nothing: no attraction and no aversion. I had given it up willingly and consciously, so there was no regret, no attachment, and no craving. Another thing I noticed with the change in diet is that I felt lighter and more energetic after excluding meat, fish and eggs from my diet. This was from a completely objective point of view; I had no axe to grind either about being vegetarian or non-vegetarian; in my mind I was a non-vegetarian on a temporary break.
Now, sometime during that year, an interesting incident took place. I was running an errand for my father and had to go to a place a couple of kilometres away from our house. I remember walking there, and as I was heading to the place I was supposed to go, I passed a little shack that sold meat. This was typically how meat was sold in India at that time (and it still is, in many places): a small shack with some animals in the front to show that the meat is fresh, and a small area in the back where the animals are slaughtered. I had seen many of these before, and usually did not give them a second thought. This time was different. As I walked past the shop, I noticed two lambs tied to a post in front of the shop, and somehow, they caught my eye. I happened to look at their eyes. Animals have strong instincts, and they can also communicate very clearly with their eyes. Having had a pet dog in the house for as long as I can remember, I was very used to ‘reading’ an animal’s feelings from its eyes. What I saw in the eyes of those lambs really shook me. They knew they were going to die, and their innocent eyes seemed to ask: “Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to hurt anyone? Do I not have a right to life, like you, or anyone else?“.
I reeled from the experience. I could never again put any living being through this kind of pain simply for the sake of satisfying my tongue. In that very moment, I resolved to not go back to being a non-vegetarian. My heart would simply not allow it. I wasn’t programmed to eat meat like a tiger or lion; I had a choice. At the time, I had all sorts of opinions about meat being a source of iron and protein, and that it was necessary to include meat in our diet. Yet, in that moment, I did not care for any of those things. All I knew is that I could not live with causing that kind of pain to any living being, and that was all that mattered. The decision was made.
Years later, when doing a course on nutrition, I found out how a combination of legumes and grains can actually provide much more protein than a meat-based diet, and how leafy vegetables have much more ‘bio available’ iron than meat. I found out how my direct, personal experience of feeling lighter and more energetic on a vegetarian diet was described as a ‘sattvik diet’ in yoga philosophy. All that came years later. But in that moment, it was the spontaneous compassion arising from the heart that decided what I had to do.
One time in Paris, I had ordered a vegetarian sandwich. I had been warned by a friend that fish and eggs are considered vegetarian in France, so I clearly specified that I wanted a sandwich with no fish and no eggs. I was given a spinach sandwich. Spinach is not a great favourite of mine, but hey, I had to eat! So I collected my sandwich, went outside and took a bite. In the very first bite, I smelled fish, and felt the texture of fish on my tongue. I had a strong visual of a dead fish looking me in the eye and asking me: “Why are you eating my body?” I almost threw up. Luckily, there was a trash bin close by; I spat out the bite, threw away the sandwich and washed my mouth. I was angry with the man in the cafe who had sold me the sandwich, angry with the ‘damned French’ for their ‘stupid’ diet; I felt violated and abused. But then I calmed down, and went my way. It was just an experience to show me that my being did not like taking in non-vegetarian food any more.
I have, by mistake, eaten meat again. Once, I ordered a cheeseburger in India, where a cheeseburger usually means a burger with a vegetarian patty and a slice of cheese. I almost finished the entire burger before realising they had served me a chicken cheeseburger. Thankfully, the reaction was not as bad as the fish sandwich experience in Paris; I simply emptied the contents of my mouth into a paper napkin, and threw away the rest. Once I knew what it was, I could not eat it any more.
To this day, I remain what is described in India as ‘pure vegetarian’: no meat, fish, or eggs. I also still avoid any preparations that contain eggs. I do enjoy tasty food, and say that food should not be taken just be for survival (I feel that is an unhealthy view on life). Food, like the breath and love, should be seen as a source of joy, and experienced as a beautiful blessing. At the same time, it is equally, or perhaps more, important to me that my joy does not come at the cost of someone else’s pain.
A large number of vegetarians seem to be very judgemental about other peoples’ choice to be non-vegetarian. The interesting thing for me is that having been a non-vegetarian before, I have no judgements. I do not mind if people sit at the same table as me and eat meat, but I know clearly that it is not for me. Perhaps if everyone acted this way, knowing that we have the freedom to choose what is right or not right for us, without being judgemental about other people’s choices or trying to dictate terms, the world would be a more tolerant, more loving place. Isn’t that what all of us crave?