I was Too Busy to Examine the Coins in My Pocket
“Jeb ch paun ton pehlan tanak dekhiye sikeyaan di…”
There are songs you listen to enjoy, and then there are songs that leave you wiser.
Bir Singh’s song Bhole Panchi, leaves me pondering over a thought that feels both painfully simple and impossibly profound: “Jeb ch paun ton pehlan tanak dekhiye sikeyaan di…”
Before putting a coin in your pocket, examine it a little. Check whether it is genuine.
What if I had understood the wisdom of that thought in my younger years?Would I have become more suspicious of people? Would I have made better choices?
I am not having these thoughts because I regret having loved, trusted, or believed.
I now see that there is a difference between believing in the goodness of human beings and assuming that everyone you encounter will honour that in you. I have spent a considerable part of my life believing in the former and behaving as though the latter was guaranteed.
Was I wrong?
I would like to term that as my innocence or my optimism. Or I can also just simply say that I had not yet learnt that goodness, though abundant, is not universal.
I say this without the need to rewrite my history that may make my present feel more comfortable.
Our first meeting was arranged. The choice, however, was ours.
And I still own that choice.
I would never claim that the person who began it was foolish, helpless, or entirely mistaken. She wasn’t.
She made a decision with the information, understanding, hopes and beliefs she had at the time. She chose with what she knew.
More importantly, she chose with what she believed.
She believed in the possibility of building something meaningful with another human being. She believed that commitment meant showing up, that conversations could bridge differences, that difficulties could be worked through if two people were willing to sit with them.
She believed that when two people chose each other, they were also choosing the responsibility of being careful with each other’s trust.
She was busy living. She was making a home, building memories, holding on to possibilities and doing what she believed a committed person ought to do.
She was not sitting outside her own life with the benefit of hindsight, examining every decision for signs of what might eventually go wrong.
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She was inside it. Present with her full presence.
I wouldn’t label those beliefs as unreasonable. Perhaps some may prefer to label them so.
I would say I was too busy seeing the goodness to examine the coin.
So no regret.
And no, my heart will not harden. I have met too many wonderful people to conclude that the world is a terrible place.
And I am not sad that I made a mistake.
Mistakes are part of being human. And I am proudly one.
I do wonder whether wisdom would have changed the outcome. May be. Or may not be.
Listening to Bhole Panchi, I find myself thinking that I cannot go back and teach my younger self to examine the coins before accepting them.
“Jeb ch paun ton pehlan tanak dekhiye sikeyaan di…”
But perhaps wisdom is not meant to travel backwards. It is meant to be carried forward.
And then another line strikes even deeper:
“Akhiyan meech ke sach kyun mann dein, kyun na varte aklaan nu.”
Why do we close our eyes and accept something as truth? Why not use the wisdom and discernment we have been given?
I honour my past without allowing it to dictate my future.
I saw what I was ready to see. I believed what I had reason to believe. I acted according to the person I was then.
Now I know a little more.
I can continue believing that most people are wonderful while accepting that not everyone is meant to be trusted with every part of me.
Perhaps that is all wisdom ever can promise us — not immunity from disappointment, but a better understanding of what to do when it arrives.
Some coins were counterfeit. Some years were expensive. But I am still here, still learning, still becoming. And I would rather become wiser than bitter.
