For goodness sake!
Humans, by a strange stroke of nature, are inclined towards their own ruin. What else can explain our species’ contiguous association with war and other acts of destruction? We may look at those cute pandas and sigh to ourselves how suicidal they appear but on closer inspection, humankind is the one tiptoeing on the precipice of danger. True to the cliche, we enjoy living on the edge. Despite reading a hundred articles on the eternal side-effects of plastic, we continue to use them. Just like we don’t care how our fruits and vegetables are injected with chemicals in the name of science. This self-induced ignorance is beyond logic. A panda hangs onto a branch of a tree before breaking it down, giving us an illusion that it doesn’t care about its safety. We, on the other hand, are happily burning down the tree we are perched upon.
Speaking of addiction to danger, have you wondered why the standards are always falling? Not just natural products, even creative outputs. For instance, the ’90s had progressive television shows like Shanti, Swabhimaan, Saans, Hasratein and Tara. In the first decade of the 21st century, popular TV took an epic U-turn and parked itself in the kitchen, giving us retarded shows that circled around family feuds, filial politics and manipulative in-laws. How did this happen? The simpler answer is taste. The complicated answer is economics. In the ’90s when television was yawning to a relatively small audience, the producers wanted to present their best foot forward. In the aughties, the likes of Ekta Kapoor cared more about quantity and reach, relegating quality to the attic of nostalgia. Instead of letting the audience anxiously wait for a week for the next episode, she increased the dosage to 5 episodes a week. People obviously got addicted and in the long run, nobody cared about the quality: neither the producers nor the janta. After nearly two decades of such decadence, we are in 2020 wondering why our Hindi-speaking society still tunes in to suckle the teats of mediocrity.
During my journalism days, I was one of the first few to interview Anand Gandhi. He wrote and directed a beautiful film called Ship of Theseus (2012). If you haven’t watched it, I am envious because you are about to experience the finest of modern Indian cinema. There are movies that appeal to your senses and then there are those who make you aware of your senses. However, in spite of reaching enormous creative heights with this project, what surprised me the most about Gandhi was his admission that he wrote the initial episodes of Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi (2000) and Kahaani Ghar Ghar Kii (2000). The most awkward Gujju connection ever. I couldn’t shake off the possibility of somebody writing K-serials only to move ahead in life and write scripts like SoT and Tumbbad (2018). His dichotomy was initially difficult for me to decode but much later, I realized that it’s possible for a creative person to swing from one branch to another.
If you feel that you must wake up one day and all the bad content in the world — movie, series, skits, videos, jokes, tweets, etc. — must disappear, then you are in for a huge non-surprise. They aren’t going anywhere. Bad content exists for a simple reason: we are very similar in our differences. With time, our taste develops and if we are lucky, it evolves. No wonder those who were on Hi5 once pretend to be cool on Twitter today. And therein lies the crux of content: we relate to the lowest common denominator before climbing up towards the greatest common numerator. Bad TV shows are around because there is a demand for them — a silent majority, if you may; and they don’t care about our hallowed opinions — and a television set is increasingly becoming a family member. Wishing away the regressiveness of television is itself a regressive approach. By this logic, we shouldn’t be in favour of wine shops either because one in every 20 deaths worldwide is the result of an alcohol-related disease, injury, accident, murder, or suicide. So, ideally, the social catalysts should take it upon themselves to make a (positive) difference. The better TV content creators of the ’90s like Anurag Kashyap, Hansal Mehta, Ashutosh Gowariker, etc., moved to greener pastures of big screen and stopped caring about the small screen. If a rot took so long to set in, it’s only natural for it to take longer to be eradicated.
There are many unsolicited lessons the ongoing lockdown taught us. My personal favourite is the desire to know how things work. Earlier, I spent a lot of time on accumulating useless trivia and historic nuggets and whatnot. Of late, I am more tilted towards the sheer functioning of objects. Without movement, there is no growth. Anything that stays still is accepting death. As a result, I am watching a lot of physics-related videos on YouTube. I even chanced upon the must-watch documentary Particle Fever (2013). It’s incredible how the little factors matter a lot more than we assume. Unlike us, nature knows exactly when to act and when to react. If I leave a slice of butter out in the sun, it’s bound to melt. If I leave the fridge door open, the room doesn’t get cold but the indoors of the fridge gets hot. In other words, there are laws to be followed. Mexicans prefer spicy food even during summer because it makes their body sweat it out and thus cool them down. Plain and simple. So many principles that I wasn’t aware of, at least not intimately. And I am sure I am not alone in this. There are people out there belonging to my generation who don’t know how to chop onions or understand how the flush works, let alone how the WiFi works so miraculously.
There are over a million confirmed COVID-19 cases in India, amounting to 26,300+ deaths. In a country of 1.38 billion people, these figures might seem pale but going by the rate of virus transmission, it’s scary what the future holds. Back in March, there were speculations that the scientists would crack the code by May or June. Half of July has gone and we are still nowhere close to absolute. Until and unless we have a vaccine in place, or at least some standard medicines, we’ll be at the mercy of each other. And our socioeconomic behaviour has proved time and again that it’s the worst place to be. As we can see, those who don’t have to be outdoors are being outdoors just because they can. A daily wage worker has an existential excuse to be out in the sun, what is yours? Oh, you are bored at home? Poor thing. To make matters worse, a lot of us haven’t even learned how to wear a mask properly yet. I often see people not covering their nose because somebody told them that their chin needs to be protected first.
For the past 3-4 weeks, I’ve been actively conducting Zoom quizzes by inviting friends and colleagues. It’s been a fun ride so far and I am keen on hosting a quiz for absolute strangers as well. It’d be nice to have 5-6 participants whom I don’t know beforehand and then see how they fare. To recruit these members, I’d request the interested parties to write me an email at shakti03@gmail.com with a one-word subject line “Quiz” followed by a mail body of not more than four sentences on why they believe they should be a part of my zoom quiz. 5-6 unlucky participants will be selected and then invited for a weekend (preferably) quiz. Let’s see how all bothers to respond to this open invite.
Once upon a time, there was a wise man who lived in the hills all by himself. He gathered water from the stream and grew his own fruits and vegetables. With no deadline to chase, he set his own timeline for the day: waking up with the sun and going to sleep with the moon. One afternoon, as he was lazing outside his cottage, he saw a gorgeous bird that landed to have a gulp of water from an earthen pot. Being somebody who can identify almost all the flora and fauna in the region, he was befuddled by the uniqueness of its mesmerizing colour. A part of him wanted to capture the bird but a part of him didn’t want to touch it. Some beings are best left to their freedom. In his infinite wisdom, he finally acknowledged that he was observing his self in the mirror. That bird was him, unaware of its unfamiliar beauty and like him, it was free but yet caged by its desire to be free. Oh, and not forget, like him, it was thirsty too.
I am a writer under construction. Which basically means that I write more about how I am not able to write than actually write anything substantial. Hidden in me are stories waiting to be unleashed inside a novel but I lack the diligence to pursue the process. In simple words, I don’t stick to the mission. I’ll write strenuously for a week and then I’ll get bored of myself and go back to ground zero. That’s me in a nutshell explaining the past 13 years or so. Yet, somewhere I also know that I will cocoon the shit out my stupor and emerge with a memorable book. That’s certainty talking, not me.
If you were asked to name 10 people who aren’t your family or friends but personified goodness for you in the past, would you be able to mention them (not necessarily by name) within 15 minutes? If yes, that’s equally great of you. The problem with goodness is it remains underappreciated. We remember those who were assholes to us but ignore those who went out of their way to help us in the most unexpected ways. If anything, we ought to normalize basic humanity and weed out suspicion. If somebody is reaching out to you, it doesn’t always mean that they have an ulterior motive to grind. I strongly believe that this world is still spinning because there is more goodness than evil and some people leave behind a scent of goodness that lasts for ages to come. It’s our responsibility to either be the fragrance or be the one who remembers how it smells.
