Olden age, newer times
What would we do without each other? Our fantasies might be built of moments of unabated solitude but when it comes to practice, we badly need each other. Somebody builds something for somebody else, and our civilization is a result of this dependency. Left to our own devices, we won’t know how to get by. However, societies are binary in their dispensation: you either like somebody or you don’t. Indifference is for those who don’t matter to you and you to them. Indifference often leads to nothing, mostly, whereas like leads to love, stopping briefly at crush. We are constantly falling in various pools of attractions and distractions, aren’t we? You enjoy gardening today although you weren’t fond of mud earlier. You hate K-Pop but used to be a NSYNC fan last century. You love biryani and will continue to stay faithful to that glorious dish. You have a crush on soan papdi but won’t admit it in public.
Did you know that chimpanzees are more likely to spend time with another chimpanzee if they have watched a film together? After learning about this observation, you can’t help but imagine all the areas we resemble our furry cousins. And it’s a lovely tribute to the power of cinema: it brings people, especially strangers together, even if temporarily within the confines of a dark hall. If it were up to me, I’d fund another research to check how chimpanzees react to the classy gory exhibited in Tarantino movies. Yes, I am referring to the climactic scenes of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019).
As you get older, you realize so many subtle truths about life. For instance, it’s not our place to judge parents for bad parenting; something I was guilty of in the past. Raising a kid can be, and is, ridiculously exhausting, particularly in today’s world where you can’t beat a child as liberally — no pun intended — as our parents did in the ’80s and the ’90s. Yet, I’d be remiss to point out that most young parents don’t have a clue what they are doing with their children. Most toddlers are haplessly rude and entitled, mainly because their caretakers genuinely believe that that is the only way their wards can make it in this cruel, cruel world. Again, I don’t blame the parents for being so naive or unoriginal.
My amma wouldn’t allow us to have paan (betel leaf) when we were kids. According to her, its consumption leads to memory loss. We don’t have scientific backing to this hypothesis but, for argument’s sake, let’s agree with her assumption. Since old people in India are popularly attached to paan, one can only wonder whether they are trying to forget their painful past. If so, what if they don’t need to forget those memories and only ought to forget those responsible for those bad memories. But then, how are we supposed to separate bad memories from the people causing them?
Everyday, I learn new words and newer trivia. An enhanced vocabulary benefits me psychologically as I like to test myself with new words. Picking up words from different languages gives you a finer perspective of the world we live in. For instance, while watching a Macedonian documentary called Honeyland (2019), I noticed that the Albanian word for spring (baar) is very similar to the Urdu equivalent (baahar). Such lingual exercises excite me and nobody’s keeping score: I do this for myself. To know that güreş (grease wrestling) is the national sport of Turkey is as useful a pursuit as posting it on my IG story feed tomorrow under Useless Trivia of the Day caption. But then, like I said, there are things you do, not to impress others but to implore yourself to be better equipped mentally. At the end of the day, we recognize ourselves for who we truly are and being knowledgeable doesn’t do much when our basics aren’t solid. For example, if you can’t keep your word, what’s the point of your vocabulary?
All verbal arguments, in the absence of bloodshed, result in a bigger verbal arguments. If you are rooting for Argument A instead of Argument B, logic and empathy have to conflate with you. At the end of the day, an argument usually rests on the direction your sympathy lies. You care about something because your heart and mind push you towards it. Nobody else can decide the outcome of this battle. Confirmed bias: check. Heuristic availability: check. Cognitive dissonance: uncheck. For instance, are you sympathizing with a terrorist who was apparently bullied 22 years ago or are you shedding tears for the victims of a callous attack? Both the choices are valid and yours to make.
Even though I am over 33.5 years young now, I think I get old age better than youth. Unlike the younger lot, the older folks don’t have surprises for me, and THAT helps. Given a chance, I’d spent a major part of my time around people who have crossed 60. Wrinkles and greys, please. The only problem here is, I want them to be good speakers as well as great listeners. Failing which, I will have to abandon them for my peers.
Speaking of senility, both my late grandmothers shared a usually warm camaraderie. My maternal grandma Sindhu (meaning the river that gave our country its name) and my paternal grandma Doddu (meaning money in Tulu) didn’t grow up in the same village but their sense of familiarity spoke for itself. My fondest memory of them is Sindhu ajji visiting Doddu ajji during afternoon and both the wrinkled ladies enjoying their betel leaves with areca in near silence while sitting next to each other. At the end of this meeting, Sindhu ajji would say — “Yaan barpe, Doddu”. (I’ll leave now, Doddu.) Their more vocal memory was relayed to us, via my amma, over the years, about the night she was delivering her twins at her mother’s house past midnight on 31st December, 1987. Apparently, Sindhu ajji was accusing Doddu ajji of not holding my ma properly when the first child popped out. Following which, they laughed with relief, before getting ready in position for the second one.
There aren’t enough bees to produce the amount of honey required by humans. So, chances are what you think is honey in your kitchen is not really so. Most probably, liquid jaggery is what you’re getting in those jars at the supermarket. The population of bees is dipping thanks to our thoughtless assault on the planet, and the least we can do is acknowledge the awesome work they do to maintain equilibrium in this wretched planet. The amount of labour they pour in would put the sweatshop slaves to shame. Yes, they do soak nectar from flowers and vomit stuff, thus creating honey, but they at least have the decency to not poop inside the beehive. We neither deserve them nor their honey.
Each city has its charms and ills to speak of. Delhi is lovely solely for its post-Partition adherence to heritage and taste. Gurgaon is a wannabe city and shamelessly propagates the fastest growing religion in the world: Convenience. Mumbai is what you get when you are stuck inside an endless series of rag-to-riches novels. Bangalore is gorgeous mainly thanks to its blissful weather and decent people. No other metropolitan city in the country can boast of metro trains where people are insisting others to take the vacant seat. It’s the exact opposite of the behavior everywhere else I’ve been to or lived in.
