The rope snake conundrum

‘When you see a rope and jump back in fear mistaking it for a snake, where did the rope go?’

The question above was posed by Guru Freddy, formerly Fredrick van der Borght, a shipyard engineer from Belgium turned Guru, as we took a long walk through the city of Mysore in the summer of 1983. The thought did occur to me then that the question made no sense. However, my life’s conditioning did not permit me to challenge the wisdom of a Guru. In addition he was my father’s client. After years of struggle, Swami (later Guru) Freddy had managed to gain Indian citizenship. My father was his lawyer. That’s the background. But why am I raking all this up now?

Recently, three curious incidents happened to me that made me rethink what Guru Freddy said to me some 40 years ago.

1- On Monday, I attended a Pilates lesson at my local gym. As I returned to my recently acquired car, I noticed a large scratch on the front passenger side bumper. The parking bay to the damaged side was empty. The perpetrator had fled the scene. I stood there fuming, hollering vile expletives at the empty parking bay. Then I looked more closely at my damaged car. It was the same steel grey colour but it was not mine. It was not even the same make! On that day, my usual spot was taken and so I had parked elsewhere!

2- I work with a voluntary organisation @SWVG teaching English to asylum seekers living in Southampton. I’m also the visitor for an Iranian man, call him Ahmed. A ‘visitor’ is like a local guardian or friend who would step in and help when necessary. It could be assisting to register with the doctor’s surgery, deal with a solicitor, write letters to the authorities and so on. Ahmed relies on my support.

Entering the building last Friday, I scanned the bustling throng of asylum seekers for Ahmed but he was missing. His friend Mohsen was sitting around a table with some others. I asked him,

“Where’s Ahmed today?”

“He died yesterday,” replied Mohsen.

“Died?!!” I felt weak like someone had punched me in the gut.

Overwhelmed by the news, I muttered some incoherent remarks and finally managed,

“But .. but how?”

“I don’t know,” Mohsen said with a shrug.

The conversation went back and forth for a minute or so. Then I saw Mohsen smile. It was a prank- his idea of a joke.

3- Wednesday this week, I was relaxing in bed after a gruelling cycle ride. I was looking at something on the phone and a text message came in from my GP surgery.

“Dear Mr Chandroth, This is a reminder for your appointment at 1720 …”

I didn’t read further. It was 1715. I had 5 minutes to do the 10 minute journey. If not I’ll have to wait months before I get another appointment. Jumping out of bed, I changed my clothes and ran to my car in my flip flops. Driving like a maniac, I got there by 1725. I ran to the check-in computer, entered my dob etc., but instead of confirming, it simply said,

“Cannot find your appointment.”

I have missed it. I was too late. My memory is like a sieve these days. Damn! I then read the message again.

“Dear Mr Chandroth, This is a reminder for your appointment at 1720 tomorrow.”

Thinking about the three incidents, I had an epiphany: there was actually no difference between reality and perception. The damaged car, the death of Ahmed and the missed doctor’s appointment were real. The undamaged car, the live Ahmed and the next day’s appointment did not exist. They, like the rope that turned into a snake, had disappeared and substituted themselves with alternatives.

While it is true that the new realities existed only briefly, it doesn’t take away from the fact that every emotion I felt during those moments were genuine. What if the moments had stretched to a few hours or even days? What if you never realised that the snake was, after all, just a piece of rope? Do we all experience versions of reality?

I posed the rope snake conundrum to a friend. She in turn asked me a question that has very serious implications:

“What if you saw a snake and thought it was a rope?”