/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.