snail mail

/vɔɪs/

My aim behind joining the MA English course was to be able to do something with the sense of awareness we already seem to have – of the world, of ourselves. First of all, there’s no point in just being aware unless you can actually put it in the vocabulary that fits it the best. So yeah, I’m working on it.

Awareness alone won’t change things much. It is what you make of it. When I was an on my job, I was often amused to see how people couldn’t or rather did not have an opinion of their own on news and stuff. It was all a given. There’s a beautiful place in Uganda. Yes there is. “Hey! They are facts!” Well…

My awesome sports editor would always insist on making every story my own. He would read my story and say, “Yes, Nadal won. I get it. But where’s YOUR story?” and he would turn away. [so zen noh? :D ]

So that’s when I felt I lacked a voice of my own. I had a room alright, but voice?

My journey hereafter will be about finding my own voice. I realized this in a class [side?] discussion when a professor was talking about writing something "original" for a term/research paper.

In this age of information, it takes a balanced mind to allow for original thoughts. Hey, make space while I find my own voice.... ;)

something sometime someone said

[It's been a while since I posted. Hence, it took me some time to type this one out. It isn't a random reactionary ranting. I hope.]

Sometimes I wonder if I have any right at all to feel anger and rage at a comment by someone.

What kind of comment you ask?

I’m asked why I’m against Hinduism. [Before, I used to deal with ‘why are you sooo pro-Hinduism’ questions.] No matter what your stand, you’re always questioned. Which is a good thing I guess… Actually, my stance hasn’t changed one bit. But the way I react to things, have.

I sometimes surprise myself with all those religious ideals I have in mind. I wonder why they are required. Are they just some utopic worlds? The spiritual-unattainable world? What makes me give into this patriarchal system which evidently acts as an ‘Ideological State Apparatus’ like Althusser reckons.

When I listen to stories of the daasa poets or for that matter Kabir or Meera, and Rumi of course, I fall in love. I fall in love with them, I fall in love with the world, with God, with myself, with the little details of life. I used to call that Zen, bliss. I also call it devotion sometimes.

Why do I feel so liberated in what is merely a master-slave relationship? Why would I even take that to be liberation?!

Actually, at that moment, the society doesn’t matter. Neither does the individual. There’s only merging of entities. Of energies. There’s no hierarchy at that moment. Or so I feel. Because in the very articulation of it, there’s a problem. A glitch in the system. Let’s blame it all on language which empowers and disempowers us. All the same.

All that beauty-bliss apart, what about the philosophy itself? So my professor at college was pointing out a “flaw” in it. He was of the opinion that the problem with most of Indian philosophy is that it bases all its arguments on theology.

So is “our” philosophy a constant denial of the real? Is the spiritual in opposition to the material? Well...

Going back to the question, am I against Hinduism? Hell no. I’m against the appropriation of all communities into “Hinduism”. I’m against those fundamental-extreme views. I’m against using the name of religion to control women. I’m against making her stick to roles already pronounced. For that matter, I’m against force of any kind. Because that, for me, defeats the whole purpose of faith. Am I going too far equating religion and faith?
Anything that you do should be a choice – something that flows into your being. That way, it stays – your faith becomes your own. Not some abstract notion passed down by your forefathers (foremothers?).

sensuous memory?

As I return to the world that lets me withdraw as and when I like, I look back and wonder what I’ve assimilated over the one year that passed by working at different places.

One thing that doesn’t change no matter where you go is the way people constantly try to impress one another. It makes me feel as though we are a generation born out of/ into insecurities. Always trying to update our facebook statuses and talk fashion or literature as though our souls hang on the approval of others.

In fact, I think we are a generation of “others”. There’s no 'We' or 'I' in the doing. There’s always this passive watcher or a voyeur we’re so fully aware of. The past one year has confirmed this further.

Going back to college has in a way reminded me of the old days in the non a/c public buses. I’ve heard people say “reality stinks”. It sure does. Quite literally here!

Exotic cologne mixed air in the bus will be replaced by musk flavoured deo sprayed college students’ body odour blended with the sweat of others and dung stuck shoes of some others. And of course, not to mention the jasmine thick air that lingers all day long.

No more laptop and phone busy people in the bus but those trying hard enough to hold on to the iron rods that’ll survive them the next sudden brake. As they get down, the smell of the rusting rods follow them as a reminder of where they stand in the hierarchy of things.

No more poor and confused oldies mistaking the a/c for a non a/c and having forced to pay thrice of what they would have otherwise. It perhaps means they will miss a square meal to hold on to their abstract idea of dignity that no one seems to really care about.

It’s time to get used to the sight of bare feet and thank god for the lack of clacking shoes.

I will miss the glimpses of people from the back high seat of the Volvo. They look at you and don't even forgetfully smile at you. And if you do, they feel threatened. I will miss seeing the children’s [of lesser earning families] eyes glow as they step in and feel the cool on a hot sunny day. I wish I could appreciate life like they do. I wish I had the ability to see the universe in the everyday.

Resounding Confrontation

Among other things, what I’ve been pondering upon lately is the social status of people.

I had this rare and unforgettable confrontation with a man on the street. When I used to hear people say they could play certain moments in their mind whenever they felt like it, I used to think they were imagining stuff. But, this time, I played that moment, time and again in my mind and I couldn’t figure out a thing. Yet, it was the most raw confrontation I’ve ever had.

It lasted exactly a moment. And I wriggled out of it. I was on my way to work [some extra money with the ever increasing distance to work has given me the perk of travelling in a Volvo bus]. And I really like the view from the back seat because it is placed quite high from the ground. The bus had stopped in a traffic signal and there was this "madman" on the road trying to figure his way from one end of the road to the other. He had the blankest of looks on his face and I was observing him take every step forward. It so happened that he glanced towards me once and locked a stare for only a second and if I was anywhere but in the bus, I would have burst into loud tears. However, on that day, I managed to look away and silently wipe my tears.

I have no idea what that was. But, all I can say is, that moment will be the foundation for all that I’ll do hereafter. Also, now that I’m unemployed, I’ll have more “time” to dedicate to things that are closer to my heart.

That’s right. I’ve been waiting to declare myself unemployed [ever since I started working, I guess]. I’ve decided to do my post-graduation in English Literature – full time. I did give the correspondence course a try and it was rather pathetic to use a mild word.

So the next two years will be more about making regular rounds to the library with Shakespeare and Ferdinand de Saussure; and less about planning how to spend a penny or save a penny.

I always wanted my life to fast forward to the future (of sorts). But now, more out of choice than fear, I want it to go as slow as possible…so that I can savour every moment, remember every emotion from the books I read and the movies I watch and also (surprisingly) the life I lead.

I wanted to be a sports reporter, and I have been that for the last 3 months. Did I like it? Not really. I liked it alright. As in, there were many practical things that one needs to learn as a journalist that I sort of assimilated. But, as a whole, I didn’t really connect to the job.

I wanted to be a travel writer, and that was my first job. I was on it for a while. I enjoyed it in parts, I loved writing…but there was still something missing. I felt like I was selling these beautiful places – the only ones that were a bit untouched by humans. Even if no one went to that place after reading (or rather BECAUSE they read) my feature stories, I still felt I was conspiring against nature.

Going back to college should help me sort things out. Although I have portrayed the one year break as not-so-productive phase of my life, there have been a million things that have touched me directly or indirectly because of my job. I’ve always tried to pen it down and would end up nowhere close to what I wanted to say.

Here’s to verbally more competent life ahead!

hold on and let go; all at once?

I was suddenly taken aback by all the noise around and chaotic people everywhere. “I was one of them a minute ago.” The thought wouldn’t let me digest my reality. I was shattered. Tears. How easily I let them flow. Was I hurt? Not sure.

The universe conspired in my favour this time. I chanced upon the movie August Rush! Music. Beauty. Love. Do I feel all that anymore? The Magic! Has it been replaced by something mechanical? Or Does it still remain hidden somewhere? It’s like I have these moments of bliss and it disappears into nothingness. And I can’t stop thinking that it’s me who has forced it to disappear. So can I force it back into being? Whatever happened to the essence of emptiness that I was completely drowned into!? [why does “into” sound deeper than plain “in” I wonder.]

© Vimal

I should let go of things, masters of life would say. But for me, I think it’s about holding on to things as much as letting them go. It’s all about striking the almost perfect balance. Right? It shouldn’t be too perfect either. For it would suck the vibrance out of the colours. I should [perhaps] hold on to the eye for beauty but let go of the cynic’s view. I should hold on to my grand ideas [that are mostly borrowed] on capitalism and the likes and at the same time let go of inhibitions about the self, the other and the imagined. (?)