A Fervent Search for my Founding Roots
Immersing ourselves in the exploration of our roots always
Tends to render in us a meticulous sense
Of introspective analysis. We sometimes incline
Towards being critical, other times lenient
With how much or how little our foundation matters
In ‘the grand scheme of things’. We are scrupulous
And fastidious in measurements and desperate quantification, seeking
A definitive and complete resolution to the ‘issue’
Of what constitutes the basis of our being.
Easy it is to ignore how much
We can learn about ourselves
And our roots from those we love. We flail
And stutter so often in their presence that we neglect
Our desire for closeness and distance, both alternately
Or indeed successively. Gasping for air, we surface -
But lest we forget; we can swim and float in no small measure
Thanks to the buoyancy and talent bequeathed to us by our roots.
To what extent should we bind ourselves
To the facts that outline our existence? Should it suffice
To content us that our roots possess a hand in the shape of our bodies,
The colours that unravel across our bodies,
And the manner of our speech? Could our obsession
With the roots that define us, whose legacy we must somehow shoulder
Until the maturity of the next generation; merely distract
Us from flowing with the tide?
Statements and questions can easily constitute aspects
Of the same multifaceted ‘coin’, akin to the way in which
Our roots manifest themselves in everyday life. We are simultaneously
The products and the progenitors of our roots — and no more
Can this be visible than to consider the space in which college
Appears to a third culture child in Toronto, Ontario. This may
Also be poignantly observed from the shores of the Lake
Of Shining Waters along Queens Quay West, where individuals expend
Time, effort and energy towards the near-absolute evasion
Of human contact while embracing wholeheartedly
The company of mute domestic animals.
Three calendar Gregorian years have passed since I arrived
In this frigid Northern land to pursue a tertiary education
Unlike anything I had previously experienced — a significant
Seventh of my life thus far. Comic stands the persistent
And perpetual reticence of this people on the subject
Of human-to-human contact, grounded in a perennial
And cantankerous fear of the unknown that is
As stubborn as it is inconvenient for newcomers in
A ‘welcoming multicultural nation’ proud of its traditions
Of perseverance. This fear is infectious to the point
Where the pestilence of awkwardness strikes poisonously
Whenever any unsuspecting stranger ventures to begin
A conversation with me in a public place, as I leap
To the conclusion that no one would dare perpetrate
Such an act unless they sought to gain some ulterior and selfish
Thing from me — for why else would they violate
The simplest unwritten law of Canadian public social etiquette?
This sits ill with someone brought up to cheerfully chat
To one’s neighbours with the blissful comfort of ease
With which conversation is conducted
In ‘middle-income nations’. Solidarity,
Compassion and fraternity mean precious little
To a people obsessed with themselves through no fault
Of their own. As social-networking wrenches our youth
From what little human contact is left on this planet, I grow
To wonder what a privileged Indian kid from Abu Dhabi
Can say or do other than to lament.
I stand ill-equipped to examine or critique
The various unique quirks that colour individuals
That percolate in this multi-cultural city. However,
There are angles that are more certain than others; things
We can know. We know that pets have a dedicated
Hotel and spa on the street where I make my home, and
That marriage rates have declined more dramatically
In this Financial District than anywhere else
Across Canada. There are serious questions at play here -
What shape will social dynamics take following
Their inevitable nullification along the Blue Edge?
What economic benefits can be drawn from
Individual consumer decisions absent the shared
Anecdotal experiences of our fellow man? How will we draw
Courage from the unease inspired among the masses
About the fleshy cages that we all inhabit
And commit to the pursuit of cookie-cutter corps?
Let me not omit the superficial playground
Known as college. As I prepare for the zombie experience
Aptly termed ‘going to college’ every morning, I wonder
About whether it might not be just as fulfilling
To dive into Lake Ontario as riding the subway. Each day,
I observe with passing, and occasionally piqued
Interest the attractive individuals that seat themselves
On this tube of mass transportation — all casting
Their gaze determinedly downwards in futile endeavours
To defuse the sexual tension that develops
In stare-contests. Upon arrival, the pattern
Of people attempting to engage as little as possible
With peripheral individuals other than themselves repeats
Itself ad infinitum (without ever diminishing its amusement value).
I lose myself in the calm currents
Of lecture or tutorial material, responding
Only when called upon to do so. As I do so,
I note the infernal gossip behind me on the left, and
The smatterings of infantile suck-ups on the right. I sigh
And am left to wonder how Oxbridge could -
And whether it would, cultivate similar characters
In a surreal farce apparently designed to humour
A collective consciousness in society. What use
Could a command of seven languages conceivably hold
In an atmosphere that persists in being stifling?
Slight rays of hope appear along the horizon
When life surprises me with genuine persons
Expressing interest in conversation. The heavens
Persevere in snatching from me this small pleasure
When they call solely for help with their work — but some
Still appreciate fine food and the experience of good
Company along waves of freshwater (with the accompanying
Ducks and geese). The ‘ups and downs’ of life present
Themselves thus to me in my sojourn into
The unknown on this beautiful Earth in a life
Too short to dwell upon the insignificance of human
Existence, at college or at my Canadian home.
We soar, gliding effortlessly amidst clouds
Of ignorance — often deliberately formed, each droplet
Being weighed to allow generous furnishings with ample
Benefits and no drawbacks to our motives and
Ambitions. Gone is the delicious taste
Of adventure and surprise in this predictable life
Viewed by our ancestors as disappointingly dull. Albeit thus,
Should we regard a creature as extinct
Due to its escaping detection in a society
Drowning in neoliberal frenzy?
We frequently become our roots as they become
Us, interchangeably and concurrently as the wind
Whistles across distant lands covered in sand dunes. Monsoon clouds
Unburden their loads carelessly in all directions
Of the Deccan Plateau, as a chilly summer unfolds
In the True North. Elsewhere, infants emerge and cry out
In new worlds as others starve to death. We exercise
And indulge our appetites as the rich hoard and the poor
Endure with each day tersely pushing the gap between
The two to an ever-widening point. Fleeing from us,
Nature chases us with oxymoronic glee — felt strongest
By our most vulnerable as the powerful seek shelter
In bubbles perched high above the rabble; clinging
To their roots as they distance themselves
From the earth that sustains them.
