My wife and I recently watched Outsourced, a movie about an American guy (Todd) who manages a customer service call center for a company that sells novelty products. At the beginning of the movie, Todd's whole department is laid off when the company decides to outsource the work to India, and Todd is sent to India to train the replacements. What follows is a charming, albeit fairly predictable culture clash comedy featuring an equally charming and predictable love story. If you're looking for a cozy evening at home with your significant other and a DVD, you could do a lot worse.
What makes this movie memorable for me is that ensconced in the affably formulaic plot-line are some small pearls of Hindu wisdom. As Todd moves through the story, he finds himself seemingly shadowed by the fearsome image of a snarling, sword-wielding, blue goddess. Finally, he finds himself in a taxi with the female lead, his native guide and eventual love interest, Asha. When he notices a statue of the same figure on the dashboard, Asha explains:
"Oh that's Kali, the goddess of destruction."
"Why would you want the goddess of destruction in your car?"
"Sometimes destruction is a good thing. She ends one cycle so a new one can begin. Why don't you ask her for something."
"Alright... Destroy something for me so I'll understand."
His prayer is soon answered in the form of a ferry boat that explodes, leaving him and Asha stranded on the island of Gharapuri for the night. And of course, they can find only one hotel room on the whole island, the Kamasutra Suite of a local resort. Romance ensues.Though this is the explicit demonstration of Kali's power, the theme is implicitly woven through the whole film, beginning with the layoff and outsourcing of Todd's whole American office that starts the ball rolling.
A few days after watching this movie, I found myself talking to a friend who was facing some real problems at work. Some months ago, his company laid off a number of people, including the director of his department. While the move was ostensibly made to save the company from financial disaster, the cuts were perhaps a bit too deep. Morale suffered a terrible blow, and soon, several people who the initial layoffs were quitting of their own free will, desperate to find a more stable environment. It seemed to my friend that the whole company was imploding; he had more work than he could handle after taking on responsibilities from those who left, and management seemed to be chasing its tail. He wasn't sure if he could stick it out much longer, but also felt guilty about leaving.
Listening to his concerns, the image of Kali came into my mind. I told him about the movie and Asha's observation that sometimes the old order must be destroyed so that a new cycle can begin. As we sat and reflected on this idea, he remembered other times in his past when new life rose from the ashes of what seemed at the time like total calamity. Remembering these events, he felt more at ease with his current circumstances. Regardless of whether he decided to stay or go, he began to see that in this crisis, there was also opportunity.
If we think about it, we can all see the spirit of Kali at work in our lives from time to time. At the national level, the economic meltdown of the last two years is an obvious example. Clearly, none of us would wish for disaster to strike. Nor would I ever say to somebody suffering the grief, pain and uncertainty that comes with loss, "Don't worry. This is just part of the natural cycle. Things will be great soon!" Sometimes in our darkest hour, the suggestion that a silver lining can be found anywhere seems not just absurd but insulting.
And yet, for those who undertake a practice of mindfulness, the fact that life is an endless cycle of change becomes inescapable. We soon find that every down has an up, every in has an out, every light has a dark. Moreover, in every grain of suffering, there is a seed of liberation, waiting to be watered. After all, when we're happy, we don't often take time to ponder the questions that lead to wisdom: Who am I? Why am I here? How should I live?
We don't need to ask Kali, as Todd did, to destroy something for us so that we can understand. She'll come knocking on our door in her own time. How will we answer?
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