Guest Column PG Rama Rao

The ‘little ego’ plays many tricks on us. One of them is to declare its superiority and try to dominate the scene for a while. This enables the lamp of its will to shine forth yielding a certain sadistic pleasure in the humbling and dwindling of the lights around.

I am reminded of a friend, who was a senior lecturer in Kendrapara Engineering School where I was taking classes in 1962. The college and the engineering school had a common governing body and I was told on the day I joined the college that I would be taking two classes in a week for the first-year engineering students.

Whenever the principal of the school was on leave, my friend would be in charge of duties. We used to know that the principal was absent from the appearance and behaviour of my friend. He wore a flashy necktie and a full suit and carry a flask giving the impression that he would spend a long day in the office working harder than any other principal to solve the problems of the school. Not only that. He would chide the peons for not keeping the principal’s chamber clean, and shout at late-coming and erring lectures.

Working up his own and others’ blood pressure. The principal’s chamber suffered from noise pollution on that day. It was a total transformation that put me in mind of Shakespeare’s Bottom in Midsummer Night’s Dream: “Bottom, thou art translated!” Next day, when the regular principal returned, my friend was back to his normal self looking like a poor, deflated balloon.

In the 1980’s, I had a very unpleasant experience with the then acting vice-chancellor of our university. I had been invited to act as a respondent at the Second International Hemingway Conference at Lignano Sabbiadoro, a well-known beach resort on the Adriatic. The university permitted me to attend the international conference and I wanted to thank the vice-chancellor whom I had known for a long time on personal level as a professor.

As soon as I entered his office, he flared up saying that I had not applied for a post in Andhra and Osmania universities through the proper channel. I was quite sure that I had applied through the proper channel for I was present in the registrar’s office when he recommended in writing “Applied through the proper channel. Issue no-objection certificate.”

I said: “Sir, I did apply through the proper channel. Please call for my personal file or ascertain the facts from the registrar.”

The vice-chancellor said: “I know the rules and I know what to do. I need not learn from you. I’ll call for an explanation from you.”

I used only one ‘I’, but the vice-chancellor used four ‘I’s.

I looked around and found a few senior professors sitting there. It was obvious that the vice-chancellor’s ego was bloated beyond limits for he had been their equal a few months before but was now their boss. He wanted to show off his power by snubbing me in their presence - a case of ‘the little ego’ putting on a show.

My little ego was hurt by the unmerited humiliation and I shot back: “Sir you’re refusing to see the truth. Ok then. Ask for an explanation and I’ll explain after my return from Europe.” Before the vice-chancellor and the others present could collect themselves, I left his office.

Next day, I flew to Delhi en route to Europe and, after my return, I found that the vice-chancellor had not asked for any explanation. Maybe he had a talk with the registrar and better counsels prevailed.

A few months later, a new vice-chancellor joined as the man who had shouted at me became an ordinary professor and looked like a deflated balloon.

I have narrated this ugly episode for two reasons:

1. To underscore the vagaries of the little ego, and

2. To drive home my theory that, in the Divine Design, there is a judicious balance, for what followed my sense of hurt and humiliation in the vice-chancellor’s office was a very enjoyable, successful, and fruitful trip to Italy, more than compensating for my mental agony before my flight to Europe. I dwelt at length on this ‘Cosmic Balance’ in My Days in Tulasi Kshetra (Bhubneswar, 2009).

Why did I use the expression ‘little ego’ rather than ego? The ego is our essential ‘I’ ness or it assumes various avatars, one extreme form of which is that of the ego-maniac, a Hitler or a Stalin or a Mugabe or a Gaddafi, and, at a lower level, an officer or a leader or a mafia don with a monumental ego. At the other extreme is ‘the little ego’ of aam admi, the common man, whose ego is bloated for a moment or a brief period of time by a little change in the circumstances boosting his self-confidence and the desire to show off. Sometimes this results in showing him in a poor light. It is common knowledge that an opinionated man who thinks highly of himself ends up in disgrace and humiliation. Even if there is no disgrace, the little ego might enjoy a subjective exhilaration while objectively he might look or sound pathetic, at times, becoming the butt of ridicule.

The monumental ego meets with an ignominious end while the little ego might be laughed at and, if it had a little sense of humour and can laugh at itself, join the general laughter and may win sympathy and even a few hearts.