My Experiments with Truth

 

Drink! for you know not when you came, nor why; Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where - Rubaiyyat, Omar Khayyam, Persian poet and mathematician (1048 - 1131)

I tipped the freshly opened quarter bottle of whiskey and drained it without a pause, ignorant of the poet of Nishapur and his rhyme.  What prompted me was not existential angst, but a dare.  It was 1982 and I was at my friend Arvind's house.  I'd never had alcohol before.  As a strong-headed 15 year old, I believed that getting drunk was a sign of mental weakness, that "it was all in the mind".  So when Arvind produced a 185 ml bottle of whiskey and conspiratorially offered me a small sip that was "guaranteed to lay me low", I scoffed.  Just a sip? I  would down the entire bottle in a gulp and nothing would happen "because I would not permit it."  I steeled myself for the act to follow, much as contemporary endurance artist and illusionist David Blaine might do prior to one of his performances. 

Rubaiyyat, Omar Khayyam, translated by Edward Fitzgerald, illustrated by Willy Pogany (1920)

I spluttered and choked as the undiluted Scotch seared its way down my gullet.   I hadn't expected this, but a dare is a dare and I drained the bottle.  Arvind rushed to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of ice cubes, which I  swallowed whole in an effort to staunch the burning sensation in my throat.  He waited expectantly for me to either pass out, throw up or launch into song.  The minutes passed.  After about 10 minutes, I declared victory.  I looked at Arvind and said "See, no problem".  I walked back home in the hot Madras sun, sat down with my grandparents (with whom I lived at that time) and proceeded to down a hearty tiffin of dosas, mango chutney and curds.  There was not so much as a whiff of alcohol in my breath and it was obvious to me that my mental strength and resolve had completely neutralized the whiskey.

Years later, I would learn that extreme concentration of mind or heightened emotional states can result in a temporary manifestation of extraordinary abilities, the familiar cliché of mothers being able to lift cars of their trapped child being an example of this.  More interestingly, Patanjali's Yoga Sutras and other texts refer to siddhis or yogic abilities that can spontaneously manifest when practicing dhyana, or concentration meditation:

The Five Inferior Siddhis:

You can know the future, present and past.

You are unaffected by dualities like cold and heat.

You can know the thoughts of others.

You can stop the effects of water, fire and poison.

You cannot be conquered by others.

The inferior Siddhis are relatively common. 

Many people can use one or more of them.

Another thing I didn't know was this admonition:

Attaining and using psychic powers is a huge trap. You must devote time and energy to getting the power. Then, when you have your power, using it grows your pride and ego.

It turns out this warning applies equally to smug teenagers and arrogant yogis, and pride, as the saying goes, cometh before the fall.  A few weeks later, the neighborhood gang had gathered after lunch at my friend Sunil's house.  His parents were away for the day.  A large 750 ml bottle of whiskey was produced, and eager to show off my new found talent, I proclaimed I would down the entire bottle, "neat".  I'll skip the gory details, but suffice it to say I nearly died of alcohol poisoning that afternoon.  I drank, I blacked out, I woke up puking over the bed, and then continued to throw up all over Sunil's house (which probably saved my life).  I left Sunil with the unenviable task of explaining the empty bottle and trashed house to his parents.

The story has a deliciously ironic ending.   My grandparents were going to see the movie "Gandhi" at 4 pm that afternoon.  I was supposed to mind the house while they were away.  It was only around 4:15 pm that I could muster enough strength to wobble back home and collapse on a chair in the verandah.  I was still soaking wet from having been given a shower (fully clothed!) in Sunil's house in an effort to sober me up.  My grandparents gave me a quizzical look or two, not knowing what to make of my condition, and then dashed off to watch Gandhi take the moral high ground in India's fight against British colonialism.  On my part, I foreswore further Experiments with Truth and cannot so much as take a sip of whiskey to this day.  

My Experiments with Truth, An Autobiography, MK Gandhi

Post Script: It goes without saying that treating alcohol or any other drug with disrespect can kill you at any age, whether your goal is to show off to your friends or develop advanced yogic abilities.  Don't do it.