Mentality and Heart. One more ordinary story of a screaming soul

Today is a cold rainy day. Proliferate raindrops drumming onto my window are painting true pieces of watery impressionistic art lasting for only fractions of a second. I am in love with cold rainy days, they freeze my hectic life, gently inviting me to idly contemplate gloomy beauty of Nature and deeply reflect on my thoughts. While contemplating the blur and listening to crescendo of the rain through the sole window of my Moscow flat with a cup of steaming Turkish-style coffee, I remembered a particular occasion I had during my travel in Europe two years ago. It also happened on a day similar to today’s – the day on which the heaven wanted to weep. Probably for this very reason reminiscences of that incident flooded back to my mind in a burst of vivid stumbling-upon-each-other episodes; the associative human memory is said to dig out events from the past which occurred under similar circumstances.

Soaked in rain, I entered that softly-lit café in the centre of Prague which, quite expected, was congested with customers. I spotted a free chair at a table occupied by a lone young man of oriental face, and asked him if I could join him at his table. “Of course,” he replied in a barely audible voice. Having comfortably settled on a chair and having picked up an elegant-looking menu, I involuntarily looked out of the window and realized I was lucky this afternoon: the window was offering a stunning view at the magnificent Saint Vitus Cathedral. Its fabulous spires soaring skywards were calmly observing low-lying cobbled squares infested with bustling tourists roaming around the grand Cathedral. It never failed to astonish me how the power of religious belief inspired humans to create such architectural jewels. I remember how I was watching – with overwhelming awe, dropped jaw and the lost sense of time flow – Cologne Cathedral in Germany, St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican or Hagia Sophia in Istanbul.

While waiting for my order, I threw a quick look at my opponent and was taken aback by expression of his face, on which deep grief was engraved. At this very moment he lifted his gaze off the table and our eyes met. I smiled politely, having received mutual smile as a reply, although his eyes at that moment did not alter their manifestation and were radiating almost palpable sorrow.

“What a weather today!” I tried all of a sudden in an attempt to start a conversation with him. I must mention that talking to unknown people is my hobby: I find acquaintance with new people as one of the most interesting things to do. It allows me to familiarize myself with people of various cultures and points of view, sometimes even to initiate romantic relationships with representatives of the beautiful gender of humanity.

“Yeah, the weather can hardly be called pleasant,” he responded, having also asked me, “Are you a tourist?” I was glad he asked me this question – it was an opportunity to commence a talk with him. For some unknown reason the desire to converse with him was bigger than it usually would have been. Was it due to his sad face? That subconscious desire to help and offer compassion in order to receive a doping of good mood for ourselves – a sort of psychological egoism...?

“Yes, I am a tourist, from Russia, and have been traveling for three weeks across Europe. And you?”

“No, I am not exactly a tourist. I work in Prague. Originally I am from Asiastan.”

Through the consequent chat I got know that Ahmed came to Prague 5 years ago in order to do his PhD in the area of particle physics. On having successfully defended his thesis, he received a scientific position in one of the most prestigious research institutions of Czech Republic. Reciprocally I narrated to him about my job of a freelance web-designer, about the style of life in Moscow. At some point of our lively chat silence fell between us; I was hedonistically absorbed by a piece of tiramisu cake and warm tea flowing through my throat as delightful nectar. A deep sigh of Ahmed forced me to interrupt my gluttony and look up at him. His face was exuding even more obvious anguish. It seemed the sadness in his eyes was flowing out and as a dense fluid filling up the entire room, threatening to sink cheerful visitors of the café. He was thoughtfully gazing at the bewitching Cathedral.

“You look very sad,“ I fired out, but immediately regretted afterwards for having asked, as it occurred to me I was putting my nose into his personal emotions.
“Yes,” he affirmed in conjunction with a stretched sigh. “It is because I am thinking about committing suicide,“ he added.
I thought I misheard, “Excuse me, you said…suicide?”
“Yes, suicide,“ Ahmed replied.
I tried to say or ask something, but my tongue was petrified. Suddenly the situation started resembling a movie scenario when the main hero stumbles upon a personage who is on the verge of committing suicide. But such a situation outside of a movie seemed surrealistic, although his eyes were not at all suggesting he was playing a joke.
“Excuse me, why are you committing suicide?”
“No, I still have not fully decided to end my life right at this moment, I just seriously consider doing it.”
“But why?! What happened?”
Ahmed smiled joylessly and looked at me penetratingly. Instead of answering my question, he uttered mysteriously, “I am sure it sounds odd…when someone declares he wants to separate with his life. Maybe you think I am a madman.”
“No, I do not think you are a madman, but I must admit you took the ground off my feet by your confession. Anyway, what happened?’ I exposed my palms in a gesture of surrender, ‘If you do not want to talk about it, then no problem, I do not insist on an answer.” Ahmed frowned bitterly, together with his already familiar deep sigh.
“The thing is...I just have to choose between my parents and my own family. And such a choice turns out to be immensely difficult for me. In the end, it is always like that: something turns out to be unbearable for you, and there is no solution for it, and you depart from it. Of course, people are going to persuade you there are no situations without solutions. Such an idealistic approach! As if the solution comes always when it is needed, or as if there should always be hope that solution preventing scars on your heart will one day be found.” I shrugged and offered no response.
“The story is quite trivial,’ Ahmed began, ‘I got acquainted with a girl, Chinese, after two years of my residence in this country. She got pregnant, unplanned. I was against that pregnancy, of course, taking into account that I simply was not ready for a family from material and moral points of view: I was a mere student making ends meet with my ascetic scholarship, and I had not yet fully decided whether that girl was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. You see, it was not a passionate head-spinning love – this is why it quite ironically turned out to be a stable relationship. They say an intensively burning wood burns out soon. She refused abortion and gave me liberal choice: I might leave her and our child, because the child was not conceived upon mutual agreement. But despite my inner resistance, I told her I would live with her and our child, surrendering to the will of fate. Having said that, he gulped down a quarter-full pitcher of famous glimmering Budweiser beer. The phrase “You made a correct decision when you had not left your pregnant girlfriend” was about to leave my mouth, but I suppressed saying it; it seemed too much of a banality – a phrase declared by moralists or oven by non-moralists who would nevertheless state so. Besides, I was struck by the thought of hesitation whether I would myself have accepted unplanned pregnancy had I been in the position of Ahmed’s.
“My daughter was born, and she is four years old now. I love her with all my heart; she is my adorable little princess. My parents accept neither my girlfriend nor my child, because they are religious and have fear of society. According to their notion, a man and woman cannot live together without marriage – a postulate imposed by religion. If only you knew how much I hate code of conduct dictated by religion! It is so idealistic – ” He paused for a moment, his cheeks red with rage. I asked, “So, you are not happy because your parents do not recognise your girlfriend and your daughter?”
“Well, I am sad, of course, that they do not accept them. They even have not expressed a fleeting desire to see my sweet child. And she is a really sweet, happy and adorable girl.” Tears were welling in his eyes as he said the latter sentence. Unexpected loud sound of a broken glass made my heart skip a beat and turn to the source of the sound. A brown liquid relieved from its prison of shattered Bohemian glass was busily flowing into the cracks of a worn wooden floor covered with patina of time. I could not make out what liquid it was – my vision became blurred, making me realize my eyes were wet with tears as well. Have I always been so sentimental to be touched by Ahmed’s emotional reaction? I looked back at him. He was nervously playing with his spoon in the hand. “What makes me unhappy is…well…probably I should first explain to you the mentality of my country. In our society a son lives with his parents, even after he is married and has children. Basically he lives in his born-in house for all his life. In this manner, three or sometimes four generations of people live together under one roof,’ he smiled gently, ‘I see your puzzled face.”
“I am simply wondering how a man would live with his parents and his own family if he has several brothers. Would it be not…”
“No, that is not the case,’ he interrupted me, ‘if there are several sons in a family, then only the youngest one stays with his parents, the older sons live separately with their own families.” He chuckled questioningly, “I suppose you find it strange to hear that a person lives with his parents for all his life. After all, you are Russian; Russia is also of European mentality.”
“Hmm, in principle you are right, young people in Russia live separated from their parents.”
“I see. And what do you think of this tradition?”
“To tell honestly, I would not at all like to live with my parents – I would lose my freedom.”
“I agree with you, freedom is lost. Not only do they annoy you by treating you as a small child even if you grey-haired man, but also your personal space in terms of your deeds ceases to exist, although, of course, they mean only goodness and try to protect you. But do you know what is peculiar for my society? Despite loss of personal freedom, no youngest son of a family leaves his parents’ house. This tradition arises from respect for elderly generation and from the desire to care for the parents when they are old and weak. Besides, there is an element of additional meaning for the lives of elderly parents: they live their second and third life with the children and grandchildren. Myself being a father, I start realizing how much I care about my daughter’s problems and successful moments, and how much my own problems became insignificant for me. In a sense, I live my second life anew.”
I saw now the extent of his torment. “You cannot leave your parents alone, and at the same time you cannot abandon your own family, “ I concluded.
“Yes, this is exactly the situation.”
“And I suppose it is also difficult to leave such a developed country and return to a…well…excuse my saying so – to a third-world country.”
“You do not need to apologize, Alexander. I fully agree with you: my country is a third-world country, I dare say it is even not a developing, but rather degrading country.”
“Degrading? Why so? It is a third-world country, yes, but I read there are lots of big economic projects being realized in Asiastan. I recently read those projects contribute to significant GDP growth of the country.” Ahmed’s countenance revealed unmasked scorn. “Those projects serve the pockets of the government officials, not for ordinary people. My country is among the top most corrupted countries of the world; our leader is a classical dictator who is definitely going to rule until his last breath. There is idolization of the president by the media who also distorts facts not fitting to the image of a flawless government leading its people along the continuous and ever-increasing success – everything develops according to Orwell’s ‘1984’.” I clearly understood him due to my recent acquaintance with Orwell’s ‘1984’. He continued, “The difficult thing is not leaving a country with developed infrastructure, wonderful research facilities, stunningly beautiful architecture and fabulous beer for a country with dictatorship. As long as one says nothing negative about the king – ahem, of the president – and his policy, one lives without any problems. The difficult thing is to leave freedom. I do not mean political or economic freedom, although absence of it is disastrous for a society. It is freedom of individuality, when one can express themselves freely and no one criticises them for telling own opinion, or puts their nose into another person’s affairs. The principle of humanism – a cause of European Renaissance – when a spirit of an individual is important and cherished. Do you understand what I mean?”
“So, you mean in your country individual freedom does not exist, does it?”
“It does, of course, but to a low extent. After 25 years of living in my native society and after only 5 years of living in Europe I feel wings of my personality, if I may say so, being unfolded and used to a full power exclusively in Europe. Freedom of individuality in Europe expresses itself virtually in everything. For instance, you see I have an extremely short haircut which is uncommon in my country. Hence I would be repeatedly asked by almost everybody as to why I do not let my hair grow up to the “stylish length”. I want to yell to all of them on the top of my voice, “Because I love short hair, damn it!” He shook his head indignantly. “Okay, maybe I am exaggerating or too sensitive, but it just…oppresses my dignity. So it goes with questions about hairstyle, about deeply personal matters as to why I am still not married at such a “critical” age of 32 years old when all my peers are since long got married, and after I marry – why my wife is not yet pregnant despite being wed for already 6 months. Here in Europe I have freedom in my work, therefore I can be creative. I have a boss who demonstrates authority in necessary cases, unlike an Asian supervisor, for a couple of whom I worked for back then in my country, who would overuse, show off higher status as a result of their intrinsic infantilism. Actually infantilism is, in my opinion, the main reason for the absence of political and economic liberty in my country. It is not because our country has a bad dictator; as you know they say, ‘Every nation deserves precisely that government it has at the present moment.’ I nodded in full agreement. Ahmed continued, “Another president is going to be almost exactly the same as the one today, as long as the nation’s or, rather, any particular individual’s mentality remains unchanged. Infantile human is in many regards a coward, and thus a contributor to corruption. Let me explain: a mature person would prefer to do business or simply declare own opinion openly, without fear, whereas an immature, an infantile, man or woman tends to give bribes, rely more on influential connections than on themselves. I might be violently wrong in what I am telling you now, but this is my own theory out of the analysis why one nation is democratic, developed in science, technology, human potential, whilst another one is torn apart by primitive self-restricting rules.”
“And what is the cause of infantilism of your society?”
“It is pretty straightforward. The first reason is living with parents, as I already told you about. In such a condition many decisions for children are made by parents. Did you know that in my country the parents of a young male search for bride for him if he wants to marry? He even does not have to fight for a girl! Even “his decision” to marry is made by the pressurizing opinion of the society. To marry and to have children is by all means wonderful, but if marriage takes place at an age of just above 22, when the person has not yet achieved any solid success in career, in self-perception, discovering own potential etc...As for weddings – they are extremely pompous, with too many guests and too much food wasted; it is not because people want to have an enormous-scaled wedding, but because public environment requires so, and everyone fears a reproaching public opinion in case of doing otherwise. Many pour out for a wedding a sum of money they have been saving – sacrificing on food, travel or good education – for several decades. As I said: fear, cowardice – all born out of not having done own independent decisions. That my parents do not accept, even deny the reality of my own family, is also due to the fear of the public opinion, which is certainly going to be negative, since my situation is unconventional for this particular society. Hence comes their main pledge to me not to release the information about my girlfriend and child to anyone else. Does it all sound strange to you?”
“Well, I would not say strange, it all seems unjust, incorrect towards young people.”
“You hit the right point!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, “Precisely because it seems unjust is the main reason why almost all traditional Asian national mentalities steadily adopt Western lifestyle, and not the other way around. Western lifestyle is not a panacea, not the holder of the absolute rightness, of course – any mode of living has negative and positive sides. However, the Western mentality is the closest one to basic human needs: to dream and have opportunities to make dreams come true, to create, to paint hair pink or to date with someone if the heart requires so.”
“I see. And what is the second reason?”
“The second reason is religion. In Islam there is a notorious phrase: ‘If the parents are satisfied, then Allah himself is satisfied.’ Obvious apotheosis of the parental role. No need to say that this motto would be zealously promoted virtually by all Islamic people as a means to manipulate children’s behaviour. Well, I am not trying to shed only negative light on religion. I strongly believe in miraculous power of belief – albeit I ascribe it to yet undiscovered human abilities, rather than to an external omnipotent God; certainly all the innermost teachings of religion are important for self-reflection, decent behaviour and psychotherapeutic purposes. I simply strongly oppose inhumane judgement of religion – as it is in my case. Do you need an example of purely humane attitude? Whenever I am in China, I cannot communicate a single sentence with the parents of my girlfriend, except some words as “hello”, “thank you” and “tasty”. The Chinese language is extremely difficult for me to learn. Probably deep in their hearts they would prefer a Chinese son-in-law, but in no way do I feel discrimination or disappointment from their side – they love me regardless of my nationality, skin colour, etc. Unconditionally. Without prejudices. And look at my parents who do not accept my life-mate because of her nationality, but more important – because she lives with me unmarried. They speak about morality and virtues but have not so far asked a single question about the health of my child.
I had to agree with him on that point: religion was one of the fundamental aspects shaping societal behaviour. “Aha, I understand now,’ I declared, ‘this is the reason why you hate religion.”
“Yes. Religious people, like my parents, claim to be the followers of morality, but in fact are immoral compared to non-religious ones. What rights do they have to call a child conceived by parents outside of marriage ties “sinful” or “dirty”?! According to their opinion, should a significant part of the Western population who is not married but have families, perform routine tasks of responsibility, do every-day personal sacrifice – all for the sake of the family – be considered unworthy wrong-doers?”
“Then you should definitely live and work in Europe. The European freedom of personality is very attractive to you, as you told,” I concluded.
“Eh, this is my tragedy. I would certainly love to live and work in Europe for the rest of my life. But, at the same time, I cannot let my parents alone at home. You see, I am trapped by my national mentality. The life of old people in my country is different from that in developed industrialised nations: they cannot afford cars, there are no convenient supermarkets with delivery services, pensions are unbelievably low – they would need help of their children. I am able to support them financially, but the very thought that they cannot play with their grandchildren, or that all of us – the three generations – do not sit together at a table drinking tea makes me infinitely depressed. Sometimes I wish I had not come to Europe and had not experienced true human freedom; I would not have torturing feelings.”

I was not able to respond to this his latest remark, as I had to hurry to catch my train to Bratislava. I was so much absorbed by his story that I almost forgot about my plans. The last sentence I remember saying to him was, “Ahmed, I hope everything will be all right, I need to run to the train station.”

“Probably everything will be all right, yes,“ he said in a flat tone. “Thank you very much for talking to me,” were his farewell words, in the tone of which I intended to find hope, but the tone was undecipherable to me. We never met again.

I walked out of the café and am being carried away by the wave of space and time from the past in Prague into the present of my Moscow premises. My coffee-cup is empty, the rain has stopped, and so has the movie of memories from my encounter with Ahmed, forgotten till this afternoon. It is so natural that I or someone else would easily forget about feelings of a certain person, even if they are so heavy for this person that he or she thinks of committing suicide; after all, we often hardly remember petty problems of an ordinary individual unless that individual is ourselves. But this is not the main point. What I am thinking about is that each one of us is a complex ball made up of entangled contradictions. Is it possible that Ahmed is right – that being too flexible, behaving non-conventionally against societal traditions, experiencing other cultures may lead to the ball of inner contradictions grow and thus disturb our inner balance with ourselves? As, for example, in Ahmed’s case of the conflict between mentality of his nation he grew up within and his heart which cares for all his close people? I cannot find a definite answer to this question at this moment, however hard I am trying. I only pray to God Ahmed has not committed suicide in the end.

SSB
Berlin, 2015