“The Unbearable Lightness of Being”: when a friend recommended this book by Milan Kundera, I found the title very intriguing and open to interpretation. “What a wonderful phrase,” I thought to myself, if we could edit it and feel ‘the lightness of being.’ Set in Prague during the communist Russian invasion, this book, with its hedonistic protagonist, rejigs your cemented ideals. My friend called up saying that she was questioning her strong notions of fidelity, nationalism, and even love after reading it. I was now very interested in the book because it managed to churn my idealistic friend’s ideology, especially about fidelity. I was keen to read it.
At this point I presume that more of you are inclined to read the blog further. There is nothing juicy about reading on the subject of “fidelity” per se; rather, it’s the ease of entertaining someone else’s idea, alien to our conditioning or acceptability, that makes it that much more alluring to read. As readers, we only agree with or discard theories, beliefs, or promises. But as an author, the onus is to investigate, rationalize, and re-examine your every thought and belief before putting pen to paper.
Some parts of this book completely awed me, and I shall reproduce those as I explore the sensitive and touchy topic of non-monogamy both as a writer and a reader. I hope you’ll stay with me till the end in this short sojourn of being light. The book follows the life of a skilled and successful surgeon, Tomas, who loves his wife dearly but conducts himself in rather unorthodox ways. The surgeon has a compelling desire for non-monogamous sex, resulting in a constant string of flings. He continues his scandalous pattern despite the marriage and unabated love for his wife. In his defense, he doesn’t pretend to be monogamous; his wife is aware of his philandering.
Tomas also has an idiosyncrasy where he can’t sleep next to any woman he ‘sleeps’ with. He always stumbles home to his wife, Teresa, after every tryst. The lines that he uses to differentiate between his feelings for his wife versus other women struck me as unconventional and unique. I quote them here: “Tomas came to this conclusion: making love with a woman and sleeping with a woman are two separate passions, not merely different but opposite. Love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation (a desire that extends to an infinite number of women) but in the desire for shared sleep (a desire limited to one woman).” He chooses those lines as if to prove the depth of his love for her, almost justifying his actions.
However, Teresa is not agreeable to this setup while accepting it sorrowfully and resentfully. Several women and a few men continue to face this historical predicament even today, which raises the question of fidelity. For me, the issue here is apathy, not fidelity. Being polygamous or polyamorous is not betrayal or infidelity in itself, not even immoral. It would be betrayal or cheating only when done without your partner’s knowledge. I have very deliberately used the word ‘knowledge’ and not ‘consent’ because they represent different truths.
Consent is your willingness or permission to let something happen. But when a spouse or a partner indulges in non-monogamy with your knowledge but without your approval or acceptance, what do you call them? I would call them uncaring, unkind, self-centered, stubborn, or even cruel, but not a betrayer. I wish to be neither uncharitable nor biased with my choice of words, but I think such an indulgent partner inevitably causes pain, anger, acrimony, and sadness to the other. In essence, their actions imply that I care more about my wave of pleasure than the wave of pain it is causing you.
What is very interesting and worth introspecting here is that the indulgent partner doesn’t even assume or accept the responsibility of causing the hurt. And it is precisely here that the title of the book comes to the fore. The indulging partner, like Tomas, carries a certain mindset that doesn’t weigh his amorous actions with any heaviness. Their liaisons are non-interfering personal affairs, carrying no moral burden whatsoever. They see no reason to deny themselves the simple pleasure of another body. It is this lightness of being that is rather unbearable for the other partner.
But absolving the indulger from all blame simply because they carry an uncommon thought process would be most naïve. While there is nothing vicious or improper about holding such a viewpoint, they are still aware of the mental trauma or hurt that their thoughts and actions cause the other. Yet, they choose to be incorrigible, blind to the pain of someone they proclaim to love. As Kundera succinctly puts, “… during a moment of love; betraying, yet lacking the will to abandon the glamorous path of betrayal…”
Ironically, at some point in the book, Teresa also succumbs to a one-night stand in the wish that she will comprehend her husband’s detached view on it and hopefully free herself of the excruciating pain. At the same time, she may have desired experiencing the same titillating carnal pleasure that propelled her husband perennially. Sadly, she doesn’t feel either, except some remorse.
By 2/3 of the book, I was harshly judging Tomas for his squandering, lascivious ways. I was more aghast at his callous indifference and heartless neglect of Teresa’s withering existence. Though he does feel kindness and love for her, his weak will and absent wish to change his ways made him that much more repugnant.
When I looked within, I was judging him not because I attach morality to monogamy (I don’t) or I have an amenable opinion on ethical non-monogamy, but because I attach value to empathetic restraint. I believe in restraining your actions if they may cause such misery to someone, especially if that someone is your spouse. Nonetheless, if I am being brutally honest with myself, I may have compromised that same value at times for ego, convenience, and sometimes for gratification.
It is not in the right or wrong of social norms that we chart this life; it is in the bargain of convenience and perspectives that we live. And fidelity, or adultery with all its offshoots and new age variants, works no differently. We are weighed down by our beliefs, desires, and values, whether it is about monogamy, polyamory, love, or even respect.
Eventually, it all comes down to the “lightness of being.” This piece is not an opinion; it is a rehash of human motivations that tells me that having detached and dispassionate ideals and beliefs causes that much less suffering. Because, as Buddha said, attachment to views is the severest attachment of all. The debate about right or wrong may continue to rage and shape our missions, but Tomas concludes, “Missions are stupid, Tereza. I have no mission. No one has. And it’s a terrific relief to realize you’re free, free of all missions.” Thus, bearing the lightness of being.
~Radhika Mimani
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