My 3-year-old son Nirvaan is at that age when “whys” are sprouting out of him like mushrooms in monsoon. A few weeks ago, we tried to turn the tables on him by asking him “why”. He took our question seriously. He stopped playing and arched his eyebrows and said confidently: “Because… agubudagah.” Which doesn’t mean anything in any language.
Since then it has become a game: the answer to every why according to him is agubudagah. Which stops any further whys right there, with a laugh.
But it struck me that when my mind gets stuck in the groove of trying to figure out the “whys” of my life, do I really know any better? Did an event happen because it was astrologically determined? Or did it happen because of karma? Did I subconsciously manifest it? Or was it unavoidably destined? Is it a gift, a lesson or a punishment from God? Or is it finally just a meaningless happening in a dream within consciousness?
My mind finds a certain story appealing at a certain time, and later latches onto another for the same event. It believes a painful story or an ego-gratifying one. Every answered why begets a further why ad infinitum. And the mind struggles to find the final answer. But after thousands of books and 39 years of life, I still can’t assert that any answer to the “why” question is the absolute last one. They all seem like plausible theories which are valid – but not true.
So henceforth, instead of struggling to the find the answer to my “whys”, I am seriously considering the option of agreeing with my 3-year-old: “Because agubudagah”. It is closest to the reality that I-don’t-really-know-and-my-answer-is-gibberish-anyway. And it’s way more fun!