That sinking feeling called life
Einstein once said that he enjoys talking to children more than grownups. His reasoning was accurate: the former don’t play to the gallery while expressing their views. If kids don’t like something, they will say so in as many words as required. In a similar scenario, an adult would rather beat around the bush before arriving at the point. Both these sets of individuals behave the way they do because of the conditioning — or rather lack of it — in place. Children thrive on novelty; every new thing fascinates them. Adults are scared of newness because they are wary of changing something they are already used to. As a consequence, you’ll notice a better clarity in questions amongst the tinier lot. For instance, on my flight to Bangalore, I overheard a kid sitting by the window ask his mom in Hindi — “Ma, is that the world outside?” To which, his gentle mother said, “No, that’s just a part of Dilli” The boy looked out of the window once more, absorbing the sparkling mix of yellow and red lights, before adding, “Dilli must be huge, isn’t it?”
After watching Anaconda (1997), I developed an intense fear of the rivulet in our village. Whenever we (group of village friends) entered the water, I used to imagine a giant python swiftly wrapping itself around me, before dragging me down. It was much later that I realized my folly: anacondas aren’t native to India. If only somebody bothered to tell me this back during my pre-teen days.
Speaking of massive creatures, sharks are second to none in my area of fascination. They are lean and mean machines who can shred you to pieces within seconds. Not to forget the uneasy contributions by Jaws (1975). If there is one movie that did a bloody — no pun intended — job of propaganda against a peculiar being, then Spielberg’s masterpiece would be it. For the record, there were 6 people killed by sharks last year. Six. That’s it. More people are killed in an hour by dancing recklessly. In fact, more people die of consuming shark than the other way around; shark’s flesh isn’t really meant for human consumption. Which is strange because many cultures associate ingestion with transition of quality: for example, having bull’s testicles is supposed to increase virility. But that isn’t the case with sharks. Despite sharks being one of the very few creatures who never fall sick, and aren’t known to have cancer either, their meat doesn’t transfer the life-enhancing properties. This makes me respect sharks more. They win in life as well as death.
We need to change to stay with the flow of life. Or else, we will lose the need of tomorrow. If everything is going precisely how it was going earlier, then what’s the point? When the heavenly bodies like the sun and the planets are constantly fighting with themselves with the rising flames and the subsiding storms — although they appear to be in line with the design — they are keeping themselves relevant. The east is east and west is west but only to us. We remain stuck with our directions, in the false pursuit of reaping something different, while the shadow keeps moving from one point to another throughout the year. If there is one lesson the nature dispenses daily without fail, it’s this: we are not supposed to get attached to the norms of the old. And if we do, we must acknowledge the possibility of the new. Conversely, if we are getting attached to the norms of the new, the least we can do is acknowledge the significance of the old. In simple words, changing for the sake of change isn’t a change.
I thought I’d never admit this since I don’t have medical testaments to boot. But I feel I’ve been going through depression and anxiety for a while. Fortunately, I have supportive folks around me. Unfortunately, we are far from reaching a stage where mental health is given the priority it deserves. For a lot of us, talking about our feelings in public is an admission of failure or contempt. The next time you want to cry in the bathroom or spend the entire night waiting for sleep to cuddle you, take a minute to reach out to whoever you feel is closest to you. Each physical injury that you’ve gone through in the past required healing; the same is true for the mental injuries that went unheeded. They take time but most importantly, they need care. So, take care. There is no point smiling on the outside when you are already broken inside to smithereens.
There are many aspirations I harbour for the future. Some of them are laughable whereas many of them are reasonable. For starters, in spite of my unchecked skepticism about our species, I genuinely envision a world where we won’t be using plastic anymore. I also think we will eventually give up on non-veg food and acknowledge animal cruelty in the name of industrialization. And when we’d be accomplishing all these seemingly impossible tasks, we would be perfectly alright with advertisements such as “one therapy session free.”
Human body, like any other carbon-based structure, depends on chemicals to remain valid. You feel elated because there are some chemicals throwing a party in your system. Similarly, you feel down because some chemicals have gone rouge on your mind. Chemicals are everywhere inside us, for different reasons and functions. However, we mustn’t approve foreign chemicals from dictating terms. Fruits laced with appearance-boosting substances and seafood injected with fattening compositions are so common today that we don’t see the difference between what’s natural and what isn’t. Sounds depressing but the distance between organic and inorganic is covered by knowledge and dissemination of information. But then, we start our day by inserting chemical into our body — whether our toothpaste has namak or not.
Bangalore features in my fave cities list for two reasons: weather and breakfast. [Disclaimer: It’s my city-in-law so there is a clear bias.] However, when it comes to stable weather with better AQI, there aren’t many metros in our country that can beat her. Of course, its altitude (920m) works in its favour; Delhi fares poorly at 225m but much better than Beijing at 44m — with all three being landlocked cities. The second reason I enjoy this place is the crazy variety (read: south Indian) for breakfast: idli, dosa, medu vada, sheera, gol baji, etc. and etc. with foamy doses of filter kaapi (this is the only place where I don’t develop acidity after chugging coffee!). Yet, despite all these favourable conditions, I am yet far from quitting Gurgaon.
Every single day, India churns out horror stories. The kind of stories that makes your veins be ashamed of doing their work. As of now, a woman had been brutally raped and burned to death just because she had the misfortune of riding a defective two-wheeler. Instead of helping her and sending her on her way, these men sprang upon the opportunity to dehumanize in all ways possible. As for our society, instead of zooming in on the religion of the rapists-murderers, it’s time to reinstall the basics of humanity in our male kids. This responsibility falls squarely on half of the human population, as the global statistics clearly indicate. If we manage to get the decency bit right, maybe in the near future, we would be living in a more balanced world. That’s the only hope left, particularly when the laws aren’t strong enough to either sensitize the possible perpetrators or discourage them from committing such abominable acts of violence.
At the beginning of this year, I set some chess-related targets. So far, I haven’t achieved any of them. But still, I am quite relieved to know that I won’t be achieving them anytime soon either. As mentioned earlier on this blog, I am going chessless in December. No more heartaches. No more stress. No more spiraling down the staircase of incompetence. Will be back to chessboard, both online and offline, in 2020.
I absolutely adore old people. They’ve done their share of damage to themselves and others, and are finally in that space where they affect little and abstract more. To me, the most interesting part about them is their genial acceptance of mortality and decay. Youth can’t afford such (premature) foresight. Due to my proximity to wrinkled species in my family or otherwise, I am party to insightful conversations that have the potential to turn tragedy into comedy.
Pappa-in-law: “We are in the last over of a T20 match. Just waiting for the final call from above”
Amma-in-law [wryly]: “Flights are always delayed nowadays.”
Sorry to circle back — no pun intended again — to sharks but it’s worth wondering the magnificence of these marine gems. As they tend to lead a healthy life thanks to their competitive nature — shark embryos cannibalize inside their mother’s womb, with the largest embryo eating all but one of its siblings — and keep moving their whole existence. They can’t and won’t stop; it’s imperative that they keep swimming, or else, they will sink and die. Which brings us to the old sharks: the ones who have seen their better days and don’t have the drive to continue hunting. These fellows, for dearth of a more subtle words, commit suicide by not moving anymore. I can only imagine what happens next. Perhaps as their body fills up with water and starts drowning, all the tiny fish who used to be scared of it would begin to peck in to have a customary bite — thus ushering in the full circle of life.
