On gratitude and small changes
Time is broken. One minute, we are here. Four minutes, we are gone. We are hardly in the zone. You yourself must have experienced a constant lapse of attention, whether inside a meeting room or while sitting idly by the window staring out at the smog. If you assume that you are the only one facing this issue, then you’d be glad to know that it’s the case with anybody with four ounces of brain inside their skull. In common manner of speaking, we are lost in our thoughts. But are we? Think about it. When your mind goes on these unchecked excursions of its own making, you are simply following it. You snap in and out throughout the day — what happens at night is called dreams although there is no such a thing as a linear dream — and the moments spent lost in thoughts pose a very critical question: Does the concept of time apply to your mind when it’s taking you for a ride?
Everything happens for a reason, and if so, why do we happen to be in awe of ourselves? We might not like our nose or our voice or the way we look generally or walk in public, but yet, we like us enough to go ahead one more day. Conversely, we’d have easily killed ourselves the day we learned how miserable we truly are! But somehow, somewhere deep inside us lies the ability to continue with ourselves regardless of how pathetic we are at everything. If this isn’t love, what is? For what it’s worth, there are several reasons why we are afraid of leaving the stage — yet.
Coincidences happen all the time. Sometimes, we notice. Most of the times, we don’t. For example, you might have walked past a person in supermarket today who will become your best friend 17 years later. All such happenstances point us toward the cave of no return: too many what-ifs and so few aha-yeses. That’s the sad beauty of human civilization; so many factors are slaves to chance. In fact, if we dig deeper, almost everything related to us are bent on the slope of chance. Just that we don’t like saying the word as much as we like using ‘coincidence’ to describe events we can’t possibly understand why they happened in the first place. Our desire to understand the mechanism of universe is to be blamed here. In my book, the greatest coincidence of all is when you realize that you love a person more than you originally intended to. Does caring for somebody fall under chance or coincidence? One last example, it’s sheer coincidence that you are reading this blog post. In an ideal setting, you would be doing something better with yourself.
I wanted to become so many things in 2019 but the end result is far from any of those goals. I wanted to be happier. I wanted to find a purpose. I wanted to grow as a person. I wanted that. I wanted this. All non-material objectives though. Yet, it’s becoming clearer, as I pass through the current phase, that details matter. You can’t be happier when you don’t know what makes you happy in the first place. You won’t find a purpose when you are afraid of what lies next for you. You stop growing as a person right after you tell yourself there is nothing more to learn. All these conclusions — even though there is no such thing as a conclusion — happened slowly but effectively over the past several months. And given my track record, I must continue to become the very person (in 2020) I wanted to be (in 2019).
Over 12 years ago, I wrote this short poem titled ‘Stains of War’.
Blood has spilled, rained goodbye
Sun still kissing the wounds alive
Roads are waiting, travelers unseen
Is it a beginning or the very end?
Days ago, kids were out
Days ago, kitchens smelt fine
Days ago, smiles were returned
Days ago, veins flowed strong
Stories have changed, curtains stained
Some surviving on dusky breath
Others forsaken by angels of death
God visited but he too left
Didn’t say a word and uncontrollably wept.
Saying you worry about something and not doing about it brings your worry invoice to a grand total of zero. This era can be accused of a lot of things except one: worrying unnecessarily. Nothing really affects us anymore; too much exposure to dismal news maybe. As a consequence, there is a consistency in our worries today, and it has something to do with the fact that we worry only about ourselves. The world can very well end but we shouldn’t be inconvenienced even by an inch. Yes, climate change is in motion but please don’t expect us to move to public transportation. Yes, trees help bring down the temperature (and Bangalore weather rocks!) but please don’t expect us to plant saplings. Yes, plastic is choking the poor marine creatures but please don’t expect us to demand alternatives from FMCG giants. Yes, meat consumption has done very little for the environment but please don’t expect us to move to greener options. Perhaps it’s high time we worried more than required — for a change.
While watching the third season of The Crown (2019), several questions struck me, which, as usual, led to hours on Google. Before we go further, I must admit that some of the episodes in this installment were brilliantly written: how Prince Charles did his nascent bit for Welsh identity with a lost-in-translation move at his investiture; what Prince Philip felt as a pilot/man when those three Americans made their mark on the moon (undoubtedly the best episode); why Mountbatten could even agree to a coup given his stainless legacy in British history. All these subjects and many more are gracefully handled and there is an air of maturity, not just royalty. Maybe because they are growing older and you can’t help but wrestle with the difference between ‘keeping fit’ and ‘keeping’. Which made me wonder when will India be able to come up with such well-researched, oft-argued TV series, dealing with real events and characters. Until then, we’ll have to make do with the fictional Ganesh Gaitonde’s off-colour comments on the non-fictional political upheavals of the 1980s and ‘90s.
Remember when the Kenyan writer Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o stopped writing in English and switched to his native tongue Gikuyu? We need more of that. Recently, the Academy rejected a Nigerian movie on the charge of having too many English dialogues and too little of Yoruba, Igbo or Hausa. It’s a weird case of denying lingual colonialism while pretending to care about local languages. Colonial past of countries in Asia and Africa deserves a thorough understanding. Expecting imperial languages like English, French or Spanish to erase itself in nations with strong colonial hangover, just because it’s conflicting with fellow Anglo-Franco-Hispanic identities, is a rather ludicrous take. It’s one thing to say that a movie doesn’t fit the criteria of Best Foreign Language Film category but quite another to suggest that English doesn’t sound normal in a Nigerian movie. The Academy, as a private club, has all the rights to accept or deny as per its requirements. However, a lesson to be learnt here — take pride in your language and contribute in its upliftment. Sooner or later, the Big Languages are coming for it.
My foremost reaction on social media is no reaction. Nothing, absolutely nothing, surprises me there. I seldom comment on an ongoing topic although I remain heavily updated on current affairs. Yet, I refrain from commenting/tweeting anywhere until some days have passed and I’ve earned better perspectives. Knee-jerk reactions are best left to the so-called experts on social media. Moreover, I do RT such individuals solely on the merit of their continuous knowledge. The room heats up when there is a controversy in order and people are already divided. They know where they stand and have no inclination whatsoever in learning something from their opponents. Here, too, I don’t react immediately. When you witness something outrageous, you’ve already lost once, as you’ve provided it the attention it craves. And when you outrage against the outrageous content, you are losing twice. Best to learn to ignore what doesn’t merit your time.
According to Shakespeare, a coward dies a thousand times before his death but the valiant never tastes death but once. Shakespeare was ostensibly drunk when he wrote this. We, cowards and the valiants, die everyday and at the same moment, we live everyday. It’s like a spree of waves going up and down. Can you grab the foamy water hitting the shores and say whether it was part of the rising wave or the falling one? That’s precisely how life is. Everyday, we are getting in the way of our death. And that makes us brave as well as foolish.
Be grateful for what you have. For the record, I’ve got lots of good folks in my know. Some of them are straight out of an Iranian movie based in the countryside: affable, kind and beautiful. Of course, them being fond of me helps the equation. That said, I am also glad I’ve been always blessed with strong women around, in personal as well as professional space. They tend to teach you more on how to go about than strong men do. Goes without mentioning, my mother was the first such woman and thankfully, she was the most benevolent too.
The crumbs of social interactions are the worst to pick up. Despite our best judgement, we go through the routine for finality’s sake.
“How are you?”
“Fine.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing much.”
Harmless conventions to kill time (instead of the person asking those questions) and just moving on. Even in vernacular languages, the situation isn’t any different. Every time I hear somebody ask “Kaise chal raha hai?” (“How is it going?”), I think of two local trains in Mumbai passing by — sometimes in opposite direction and sometimes, same. Either way, both are stuck to the railway lines beneath them.
