Long-distance shortsightedness
There are many things I don’t understand about our world and then there are things I don’t want to understand about our world. One such prevalent practice is prediction in sports. For starters, how exactly is a football pundit supposed to predict something — with any credibility, if at all — just because he can? Why don the cap of Nostradamus for something as inconsequential as a match? If at all we want (near) accurate predictions, we should be engaging data scientists, not ex-footballers. But again, consumerist aspirations overtake common sense. People are interested in knowing what Gary Neville or Jamie Carragher have to say about the upcoming game than some geeky dude who has pored over thousands of documents and data points to come up with a reasonably closer ‘prediction’. Sucks but can’t blame anybody though.
The more you travel, the more you learn how little you know to begin with. This is particularly true for railway journeys. One of the reasons why we don’t understand India is because there is a massive distance between us and the others. And the gap can be bridged, albeit temporarily, with long-distance trains. When you travel on those blue trains (by the way, the biggest vector of diseases along with people), you come face-to-face with what our country really looks like: the smiles, the oiliness, the sweats, the shrieks, the farts, the accents, the similarities, the differences. Staying captivated by our photoshopped version of India won’t help us change our realities. We need to step in and reach out as much as possible.
Speaking of our country, it’s unmistakable how filthy most of our places are. Forget the locals, even the tourists are irresponsible as far as littering is concerned. If you ask yourself a simple question why do we do what we do in public spaces, the answer would boil down to one only word: convenience. It’s easier to chuck the plastic wrapper or a single-use water bottle on the street than carry it in our bag. But if you dig down deeper, I think the specter of caste system plays a huge role here. Since historically, those from the lower caste were entrusted (read: oppressed) to carry out the cleaning duties, we, as a society, still expect ‘somebody else’ to clean it up for us. Which becomes interesting as you notice that the influence of caste system fast fading with villages disappearing while the cities are being left with ugly swathes of garbage behind.
People behave according to a given situation. I can be super-calm in Case 1 whereas I might act like an uber-daft in Case 2. I am the same person who can be so many things at once. It’s like all the parallel universes exist within me. And yet, I don’t know the distinction between smart and brave. Our society values bravery over cunning. In fact, we look up to those who are courageous while we down upon those who are clever because they make us feel small. In an ideal world, we’d know how to be both. For all ends and means, you can teach others how to be smart but can you teach how to be brave?
Religion is outdated for those who can think for themselves. Walking with the crutches of faith reduces an individual to a guinea pig of borrowed wisdom. It’s OK to feel alone but if you’re feeling lonely in the presence of god, you have a problem. Religious folks have learnt how to manipulate this psychological caveat. They sell you stuff you don’t need just because you possess the facility of surrendering yourself already. Personally, I have nothing against religion. To each his/her/their own idiocy. However, please don’t tell me that god is immune to business. There is no religion without money and if you think otherwise, ask the mason what he thinks. He’ll happily tell you that he doesn’t care whether he’s building a mandir or a masjid as long as he’s getting paid on time.
Pranav asked me the origin of the idiom ‘red tape’ and being a gyanchod, I walked him through history. Being an awesome actor, he pretended to pay attention. We discussed this thanks to our country. Things run slow here not because they can’t run fast but because walking is the preferred choice. Why rush when the world isn’t going to end anytime soon? Last week, we wanted to get a document signed so that we can carry Coco (Pranav’s dog) on train to Orchha with us. For one stupid signature, we ricocheted from one office to another — looking for the chief TTE — within the railway premise. I wouldn’t be surprised if we continue to act so medieval in the 21st century. Maybe things will improve in the coming years. Or maybe things will get so bad that we’ll be asked to source a signature from an officer who has a birthmark on his right buttock. You never know.
As is the norm amongst my generation, our hearts bleed for the poor. Apart from weeping, I do very little for them. Whatever charity I manage, it’s never enough in my mind. All the eminent economists in the world, both dead and alive, have told us why people remain poor — isn’t it amazing that at no point in human history has the majority been rich and the minority, poor? — but nobody deals with a much dire question: why poor people remain people? At what point are they supposed to realize that revolution won’t come easy? Being dumb is not equal to being decent. This world of ours is gamed by the few who are shrewd enough to trample on others. I remember reading a tweet suggesting mass burial of all the poor people in the world. Apparently, it will solve the problem. Of course, the person was thinking from his ass. But here’s why I think why this epic plan won’t come to fruition: for such a burial to take place, we’d expect the poor people only to conduct all the four exercises — disciplined assembling, digging the hole, entering the hole and covering the hole with soil on top of them.
A lot has changed since my childhood but my love for Mowgli hasn’t. As a kid, I thought he was the best and I still believe that he is the finest superhero of all. The guy could talk to animals! Imagine having that sort of uniqueness in a crowd of humans who can’t interpret words, forget silence. On second thought, I wonder whether it’d be a good news for the animals. What if, they are like, “Well, we don’t want to talk to you. Fuck off!”
During our recent long weekend trip, as is the custom, we gathered to talk about love, family, friendship, ambition, and the world in general. One of the questions posed was regarding the quality we’d love to have in us. My straightaway response was the desire to be articulate while speaking. I slouch mainly because I keep my head down whether I am sitting or standing or walking. And this characteristic has bounced off nicely with my failure in oral expression. I can’t look into people’s eyes while talking. Which is strange given I know exactly what to say but my tongue ruins it. Conversely, in our office, during meetings, I come across younger people who are so damn great at saying what’s on their mind while I continue to take comfort in hiding behind written (read: typed) words.
Being close to nature teaches us how to be comfortable with oneself. In an urban setting, we grow restless when nobody is around. One of the theories, according to me, rests on the pace of time. In a rustic surroundings, time passes more eloquently because there is no external pressure to create goals or to manufacture memories. Everything is natural. After coming back to the city, things pick up speed. Half of the things we do are in autopilot mode and time becomes less of an experience and more of a deadline. We acknowledge this tragedy but stick to the set rhythm because we feel this is what growth is all about. However, in my dictionary, growth should be moving back to the countryside. Why? Because once you’re done with the bathroom, you leave, so as to make space for the next person in queue. Being selfish, we are doing the exact opposite and we wonder why are all the cities so damn shitty. Sucks but can’t blame anybody though, again.
