In the pursuit of solace
We in India were waiting for the Third Wave to arrive and before we knew it, we were fast getting updated on the (impending) Third World War. Quite a week, this. Putin did what was expected of him. The West did what they were expected to do. The rest of the world is sticking to their scripts too. The only ones who are paying the price for this circus are the poor Ukrainians who didn’t do anything wrong anyway. They are simply holding onto their aspiration and dignity. By the time this show is over, there will be too much damage to count for. As always. As for those who are cheering the tanks and the airstrikes, it’s worth noting that people who enjoy watching the world burn often do so from the safety of their respective abodes.
Since we mentioned bombing, we shouldn’t forget that some PR-less nations like Syria, Somalia, Palestine and Yemen continue to suffer from missiles. Even right now as you read. There is no respite there and barely any outrage here. The only reason they don’t make it to our social media feed is their hashtag/meme game is too weak. Their humanity doesn’t reach the trending topics and even if it does, stays for less than a day. Or maybe we distinguish between the skin tone of the sufferers without even realizing it. Colonialism, and by extension, racism, works in mysterious ways.
They dated in 1994 and 1995. Later, he moved on to take over his dad’s business whereas she shifted to Bangalore to pursue a career in software engineering. It’s been almost three decades and to this day, she is referred to as his girlfriend in common friends’ circles. She married another fellow and has two kids with him but the lunch/dinner whispers are stuck in the summers of ‘94 and ‘95. What’s intriguing about this nomenclature is that the guy is never referred to as her boyfriend. The burden of the past falls squarely on her shoulders, not his. He is a strong, independent man whereas she is a strong, independent woman without the benefit of doubt. Or closure.
While watching a recent movie, a friend’s father said something tasteless only to recover—something that rarely happens in a faux pas situation—with his electric wit.
Uncle: "He looks like Deepika's driver."
Friend: "No, dad. He doesn't look like a driver."
Uncle: "I said Deepika's driver, not any random driver."
During practice drive in the city, I get very conscious when somebody else is in the car with me. Driving turns into a performative art for me. Every untimely gear change, speedbreak bump, bad hard brake, etc. gets amplified (in my head) because I am constantly trying to impress the other person with my driving progress. Well, it backfires. Sucks. When you are with me, I am bound to fuck up. For example, I recently took missus for a drive and the car stalled at traffic just when the signal went green. Instead of immediately turning on the engine and leaving the scene, I looked at her. To which she said, “Why are you looking at me like Ranga does while taking a dump?” Which was damn funny because our dog does exactly that. When he is relieving himself, he is super-aware and vulnerable. Anyway, the point is, there are way too many upsides to driving alone when you are an anxious wreck. Thanks for attending my sed talk.
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