Distort expectations, not history
What’s common to all the great writers, regardless of whatever language they wrote in? Each one of them believed in the power of thoughts. It just so happened that they relayed this realization through the canon of words. Be it through pressing ink on barren pages or fingertips tap-dancing on a typewriter or waltzing on a laptop, thoughts have their way of representing the best and the worst the world has to offer to us. Everybody can think but not everybody can dive into the process of thinking for a living. Most of us chase an elusive idea that would make us the smartest in the room. It’s only through those few who have unlocked the code of consuming their brain — instead of letting it consuming them — that we can live through words.
Monsoon is certainly my favourite season of all. It has the perfect amount of drama and sound effects. Of course, villages drown and cities waterlog and different lifestyles come to different types of standstill. Yet, its sheer power to give life a second chance is second to none. From the greens in the background to the birds gathering on the balcony to the creepy-crawlies sneaking in at night, one can merely gaze at these wonders of nature and be extremely grateful. Our planet is nothing without water and with the ice sheets fast melting in Greenland, who are we to know how long before we start missing the rains altogether?
Everybody is an expert on everything nowadays. One look at your timeline right now and you’ll know what I’m alluding to. You’ll seldom meet brave individuals who will straight away send a disclaimer that they don’t know enough (yet) to form an honest opinion. Conversely, my brother is an exception. He teaches political science to college kids but doesn’t claim to be an expert in his field. He considers himself a student of the vast subject and humbles his way out of most discussions, especially which involves people who are allergic to reading material longer than 50 words. “There is so much more to read and learn” is his common refrain and I think it’s the best line of defence in today’s era of over-information and under-empathy.
Do dreams mean anything at all? Or is it our deepest desire to attach meaning to incidents and events that are otherwise bland meaningless? I, as usual, don’t know the answer to these meta-questions but I am yet to meet anybody who watches recurring dreams. As far as I am concerned, I am the only one in my circle who happens to watch the same dream again and again and again, only to wake up with a blaring headache. Interestingly, it generally happens on Sunday night, thus providing a splendid start to the week ahead.
In India, politicians don’t need to display a spine. The public doesn’t expect them to so they don’t bother growing one either. However, even the most simpleton of voter wants the politician to be astute. It’s an unwritten social contract wherein the aam janta knows that rajneeti is a game of survival. This could be the reason why you’ll never find a desi politician spelling out on TV the most glaring problem of our times: population explosion. Nobody worth their salt would ever go on record to suggest that we need to rein in our reproductive systems. We are living in an unsustainable setup and are bound to explode sooner than later. Why doesn’t anybody from the political echelon talk about this? Because it’s not an astute move and our country can never forgive its rajneta for such a silly mistake.
At the end of the day, history is a matter of how we want to look at who we want to look at. Today, there are more than enough apologists for the cruel likes of Ashoka, Ivan the Terrible, Suleiman the Magnificent, Tipu Sultan, Aurangazeb, and so on. A simple hypothesis could be, these powerful rulers lived in a different time zone, so there can’t be an analogy. Our world is totally different from theirs. They did what they had to do to stay relevant. Despite all these credible inferences, we are stuck in a rut when it comes to acknowledging history. If only we could shed our narrow right-center-left leanings and looked at the bigger picture. Failing which, we’ll continue to have apologists for the ruthless likes of Hitler, Stalin, Mao, and even Che for that matter, for centuries to come.
One good thing that has happened to me in adulthood is I’ve started seeing my parents in a broader light. As a kid, I thought my dad was the perfect person out there: hardworking, righteous, good-looking and gentle. Similarly, I felt my amma was the finest woman who always stood for the right side of the story and would never compromise on ethics. As of today, I know for a fact that my dad was far from perfect. In fact, he took to drinking because he was inherently sad and couldn’t come face to face with the truth of being stuck in the system of being a provider all the time. To concede to his lonely realities, he had all the rights under the sky to be so sad — and to make matters worse for him, he was not very articulate (just like me, but at least I know how to write) and ended up saying the most despicable things under the influence of alcohol. Similarly, I’ve learnt of late how my amma can be so noxiously dismissive of people she can’t stand anymore. She is 67 and I can give her the benefit of doubt for not having things her way. Earlier, she had the patience to look at the brighter side of everybody. Now, she can be plain negative. Maybe she feels everybody has betrayed her, which again, carries the fingerprints of her own realities.
One of the most enchanting facets of Vedic wisdom is nobody bothered to claim authorship. You’ll get to read long passages and hymns with nobody’s name at the bottom. Either they got lost in history or they were too strong to let time win. The more you read, the more it becomes obvious that to them, the message was more important than the messenger. In an era consumed by the endless claim of credits, it’s a fresh outlook at what genuinely matters. On that note, I came across this beautiful piece of poetry from Durga Stuti which basically teaches us what motherhood truly stands for.
“Ya devi sarvabhuteshu matru-roopein sansthita –
namastasyai, namastasyai ,namastasyai namo namah!”
“To that divine goddess/energy, who abides in all living beings as mother – Salutations, salutations, salutations to thee, again and again!”
In simple words, if you care about others, it’s because of the mother left in you. In complicated words, you left your mother but she didn’t leave you.
Last and surely the least, we ought to fight the fear of the unknown. Unless we manage to do so, we will continue to seek the blanket of victimhood and stay susceptible to the vultures who seek validation of being our protectors. They do what they do because it adds meaning to their existence. But the question of the day is, how long can we let our lives be a bonfire for others to seek warmth from?
