Growing Up On Words.
I still remember the stories, they surface out every now and then. I can actually hear them in my mind. Not the exact words or sentences, but the stories — summaries of texts taught in various schools, so many news articles, endless list of poems and short stories, scriptures, movies, internet, conversations and my own loud interminable conscience. I grew up with all of them, I am what they have made me. I am still in the oven, my existence being baked slowly, very slowly.
One word at a time.
The comic books and children literature made a world so beautiful, thrilling and amusing. With all those animals talking, doors opening to another world, and a fear of Lord Voldemort — what else can be life? It gave way to a dreamy, romantic, and a world where my crush was the God, till I started understanding or rather, being curious about God, per se. Religion and its text were confusing and complex. It was a difficult world to create for yourself, with me always falling among the words. History made sense, it actually happened, and was quite reasonable than my previous encounters with sentences. It was easy, as I didn’t have to imagine things — it was just there. Then came news, current affairs, everyday arguments on social media, a scattered world of information. Everyone seemingly correct, every keyboard typing the truth, twenty-four hour news channels painting a picture of world.
Now it is all so blurry.
Were Ramayana, Mahabharata or the stories of Jesus a fable? An extraordinary, perfect prose or verse used to teach values through all these generations? Or History? Difficult to say. Depends on how much I care as I grow older. Was Gandhi a good person, or a hyped proxy leader, a myth? Well, I was sure about him a few years back, but not now. I read somewhere, if someone after the apocalypse found a copy of Harry Potter book, she might take it as real history or a God-sent scripture a thousand years down the line. I can’t disagree. This personal or communal interpretation of words written in a specific contexts, and mixing the meanings with our own contemporary upbringing has put us in a very dangerous situation.
“A gas-burned Jew, a Hiroshima victim, a man who jumped from a 30th floor window of WTC on 9/11 — came to my dream and asked — Dude! How intelliegent are you?”
Intellect is evolutionary or destructive, or both the same time. The contexts are important, as important as words themeselves. Words written on paper or typed on social media text boxes, are mere dead bodies of spoken words. Politically inclined trolls on Twitter and fake-picture experts on Facebook, please understand. You are not helping. Neither are you, advertisement driven press.
Creation of words and stories and Internet posts takes intelligence, takes some skills, takes a courage to face a counterargument or a troll hitting back. That is all good, that is development. That is real happiness seeing those children enunciating those lovely lines of Ghalib and Shelly. However, what about a hate comment they read on Internet? How am I going to explain what is correct? Why that piece of text is bullshit?
As the human population is growing, words are floating everywhere. There is a lot of TV, so many newspapers, so many books getting published — in all genres. Above all, Internet has given us a big platform to write and share words. Words of wisdom, words of advertisements, words of hatred. Words are what we are made of, more of it is better. Although, how do we decide what we take or leave from that endless chains of posts, comments or tweets? I might be educated and learned enough to decide, may be, how about my neighbour’s fourteen year old son?
Love or hate anyone or anything you wish, but don’t pass the hatred around. Don’t make a community (or a Facebook page) of haters. If you are angry on something, wait before you pour your anger through some misspelled, unorganized sentences and fake pictures. Better watch porn on a private browsing tab on your browser. It will calm you down. If you think your hate blogpost will give you that funding you need for your channel/newspaper, you may be right, but see, your own children will read that and make a biased opinion. I guess you need them to think, not to get provoked.
Bud! Those 140 characters of poorly constructed senetence is not literature.
It sounds so cliched, old school and makes little sense in this ocean of high tiding words but even today we need and seek those two-and-half-syllables of Love.
God sat with me, the other day. He said, “I don’t put signboards, I don’t know a language to write. I sometime create Music, but that is all”. I was curious. “If you were not speaking as Jesus or Krishna, what were you doing all this time? How you kept yourself busy?”
He said — “I am busy watching the show, and things are getting interesting”.