Don’t know, doesn’t hurt
All kinds of discontent are rooted in the possibility of confrontation. If two entities are not seeing eye to eye, chances are they will have to see eye to eye, to make their conflict more pronounced. The dignity found in known animosity is greater than those lost in anonymous rivalry. What we call a quarrel forms the very basis of civilizations (for human beings) and dynasties (for wild creatures). People are fighting — either physically or verbally — at traffic signals while two kangaroos are bouting it out for dominance somewhere in Africa. The whole planet, and not just animal kingdom, depends on the outcomes of these clashes to ensure continuity. So, in one breath, we can claim that non-violence is the way to go but not long before we figure out the cold closures provided by violence.
Speaking of which, the chawl I grew up in in the 90s and early aughties featured regular public feuds under the pretext of water shortage, space encroachment, unsavoury rumour, etc. In fact, not a month, if not weeks, passed by without some high-octane drama. At a very young age, I learned that Indians gather around to enjoy the show. Nobody steps in unless it’s VERY necessary to do so. After all, we are talking about an era when Doordarshan was on TV and there weren’t a lot of TV sets in our neighbourhood. However, there was an exceptional case that invited peace like nobody else: none of my neighbours dared pick up a fight with the owner (a Hyderabadi lady) of this house. The reason was practical rather than sentimental. She was the only who owned a telephone and being cross with the woman meant you are ‘disconnected’ from your village. Or wherever you were expecting an emergency call from.
Of all my failures, I must admit that my lack of practice in pleasantries bugs me the most. It works as a social lubricant and since I am never keen on small talk, I end up saying what requires more than 2 minutes of elevator-time, which often leads to awkward instances. If only I knew how to deal in such situations. Instead of asking “how are things?”, I’d end up saying that the person must watch Downtown Abbey. Sometimes, the person will humour me out of politeness while at other times, he’d be like “Okay” with a strong emphasis on sigh. Lesson to be learned here is simple: context matters but intent matters a lot. Most importantly, I must learn to nod without feeling the urge to fill up the silence.
Some of us sleep well. Some of us dream better. People who tend to remember their dreams vividly are often graced with dark circles. There is a reason why this is persistent amongst the younger lot compared to the older ones. Besides, the more seasoned folks don’t talk about their dreams; maybe that’s what makes them old. Youthful souls harp on their dreams and google the shit out of whatever they saw with their eyes tight shut. I don’t care much about the content of my dreams but I must admit that if I see you in my dreams, I care about you. My dark circles care about you too.
In physics, work is defined with displacement. Without movement, there is no work. Of course, this law doesn’t sit — no pun intended — very well our generation who are big on sedentary lifestyle. We are glued to our chairs and beanbags for hours and hours with only our fingers and eyeballs moving restlessly. Somehow, work is getting done. Those with laptops are ensuring that others do their work. It’s a strange change in scenario. Barely two centuries ago, agriculture topped the chart of employment, meaning majority of the people slogged their asses off. Today, services top the list, with most people relying more on technology. With the ongoing turn of events, it’s only fair that the robots will not only do all the work but will also rule us. I wonder how sacred will “work” sound in the future. Our safe word is ‘busy’ because it helps us escape tight situations. Yet, when people say they have a lot of work, it doesn’t necessarily mean that they do a lot of work. It could also mean that they have a lot of pending work, which conclusively means that they don’t work a lot.
Sorry to go back to the subject of sleep again but I haven’t slept for more than 3 hours for the last three nights. One sleepless night can be blamed on my stupid dog. He started whimpering in the hall and I thought he wanted to go to the terrace. As soon as I opened the main door, he ran up like Usain. Now, I am waiting for him to come back so that I can close the main door. I don’t want to go up because it’s cold. I waited and waited and finally, after say, 8–10 minutes, our boy sprints down, seemingly relieved. I closed the main door behind him and then went to our room and closed our door as well. With the long gap inserted in, I couldn’t go back to sleep. If I knew how to not care, I’d have slept well, wouldn’t I? But me being me, I had to be a control freak even at the expense of my sleep. I could have just closed our room’s door and slept soundly. After all, Ranga is a dog. It’s his job (in fact, the only job he ever held in his life) to make sure nobody enters the house. He could have taken half an hour to come down if he felt like it. My lack of trust caused me an awakening of the worst kind.
Whenever the hoi polloi is unhappy with a leader or a famous personality, they burn their effigies, and in some extreme cases, their statues. Correct me if I am wrong but doesn’t burning somebody’s image, either pictorial or sculptural, sends a dark fume of irony? Before I get into the fire bit, can you even imagine people drowning somebody’s effigy to express their scorn? Isn’t water a more powerful element than fire? Fire can be restrained by water; what restrains water? Nothing. Despite these alarming truths, we burn the hated likelihoods because we think it’s spectacular. If anything, it’s a dubious act: seeing an effigy caught in infernal circumstances can either be an attempt to destroy the person’s identity or a rather ironic attempt at empowering him with more power. Which could explain why burning effigies have never solved any problem till date.
We might be of any religious or non-religious denominations but we are all seeking gods in our own little ways. When you read an impossibly beautiful piece of poetry, you are bound to question whether god was involved in its creation. For instance, when Messi curls that freekick or when Carlsen makes an impounding series of moves, you turn to the greatest symbol of all: ? And I believe everybody, and not just the creative types, are relentlessly in this ceaseless pursuit of achieving the edges of perfection. It’s one thing to say that god is great but quite another to understand why exactly is it so. When I interviewed Ang Lee for Life of Pi (2012), he suggested that every movie he takes up is an attempt at understanding the universe better, and that knowing the truth brings us closer to god. I think, in the long run, we must accept the undeniable tenet of being: god, meaning, beauty, universe are synonymous.
Twitter is filled with political experts. Almost every second opinion sounds like it’s spurting from the trenches of experience and epiphany. Unlike politics, math is finite. Regardless politics is nothing without math. And thanks to the broken commandments of decency and gumption, the recent Maharashtra election fiasco taught us one thing: the so-called experts don’t understand Indian politics at all. It’s a unique branch and doesn’t take into account the foundation on which democracy is supposed to be built upon: the interests of the common people.
In advanced countries like Australia and New Zealand, you can go to jail for touching other’s food. Sounds dramatic but it’s actually an admirable sign of regard for human safety. When a stranger touches your food without your permission, suspicion arises. What if arsenic is being added to your plate of plastic? Exactly. However, this strict adherence to principle overlooks the inner mechanisms of a hot kitchen where your food is being prepared by absolute strangers. In there, sweat mixes with the dough, knowingly or unknowingly; not to mention, spittles and bourdain-knows-what-else. What we don’t know doesn’t hurt us. None of these information affect me because I accepted it at the very young age that having food is nothing less than a luxury. This was much before I learned how stinky manure and rotting compost make the crops grow better.
