Of caged birds and broken vows
Ranga has been with us for over 2.5 years now. He showed up outside our door in the monsoon of 2016 and has been with us since then. My…
Ranga has been with us for over 2.5 years now. He showed up outside our door in the monsoon of 2016 and has been with us since then. My wife and I have an understanding that we’ll take care of this mad fellow till his very end. Which means we’ll be carrying him along with us wherever we go next. Here’s the tricky part: We haven’t been able to crack the code of shifting base from Gurgaon to a smaller city yet. This despite active intervention from both of us. Sometimes, I think maybe gods listen to a dog’s prayer more keenly than humans’. What if Ranga has different plans for us? What if Ranga is way too happy in Sector-50 and has no intention of leaving this city?
We are meant to take pride in stuff we have no contribution whatsoever. For example, I am supposed to be proud of my gender/nationality/lineage/heritage/etc. when in all probability, I haven’t done anything to further the cause of my exclusive identity. A case in point, I might love languages but my Tulu sucks for the most part. So, by this logic, how exactly am I nourishing my Mangalorean background? In other words, how am I supposed to be proud of my Mangaloreanness? Makes you wonder about the role culture and language play in an individual’s roots. Which drags us to the door of several uncomfortable questions: At what point does an individual overcome such intrinsic factors? At what point does an individual become a tree and stop being a branch? At what point does he extend beyond his narrow identities? At what point does does he become free of the past he has nothing to do with? At what point is he completely free of the atrocities his forefathers committed/suffered? At what point does he outgrow himself?
As a kid, I often read IGNORANCE IS BLISS written on the blackboard by our class monitor first thing in the morning. I liked this quote a lot mainly because it sounded effective. In my childish thirst of knowledge, to know more and more, I relegated ignorance to those who were allergic to books. [Related: Isn’t it amazing that our education system creates more individuals who are scared of reading than those who enjoy it?] It was much later in life I learnt that reading has very little to do with knowledge and people gain much more than doing things a bookworm can’t even dream of. So, after all these years, I’ve come to see the original quote in a slightly different light. To me, it now means that ignorance is a bliss because if you don’t know something, it’s a blissful opportunity to learn more.
A very dear friend of mine recently broke her fingernail and it was a ghastly experience for her as well as those who care about her. While telling people what happened to her, I noticed how the listeners grimaced. For some reason, nails are sensitive territories and we tend to empathize with those who are hurt in that region. But then, what about the specially trained individuals who torture people by plucking out their fingernails? I think I understand what’s going on in that godforsaken room. When another person plucks your fingernail off, he attacks you twice: physically as well as psychologically. Physically by means of pliers and psychologically by letting you know that he has no empathy for you. And that realization hurts. Doubly hard.
We are streaming toward an uncertain future wherein we’ll be bingeing on entertainment and numbing our existential scars. And yet, we see bird cages in production everywhere. Don’t we know by now that we can’t cage those feathered embodiments of freedom? They aren’t meant to be caged. The bird you caged ceases to be a bird. And what you’ve caged is primarily a demon of your own insecurities. The bird left the cage the moment you locked it in the cage. What’s left behind is a reminder of your failure to stop it from being free.
I’ve always been attached to those who can’t or won’t speak. If a person doesn’t talk much, I am positively draw to them. There is no desire in me to talk to them but in the meantime, there is a strong desire to be with them and share their silence. Which obviously sounds creepy but that is me. Nothing gives me more joy than sharing food without uttering a word, which again, is a huge demand from my end. Imagine everybody enjoying their food in silence. On the darker side, silence can be a symptom of evil too. For instance, I could sense at the age of eight when I first visited a zoo that the animals in there looked sad. Every other kid was rejoicing in the glory of live action but I knew that those speechless creatures were missing something terribly.
Hatred has been in the air for a while. Particularly if you are active on Twitter. Those who used to spew nonsense on YouTube got bitten by the blue bird and migrated en masse. Hiding behind their political affiliations, they lay naked their deepest fears and paranoia. However, it’s also interesting how there is a lack of equilibrium in these exhibitions of stupidity. For example, the paradox of Hindu-Muslim hatred is very vivid as far as bigotry is a criteria. Hindus (the bigoted ones) tweet ferociously against Muslims wishing death upon because they see them as existential threat — both culturally as well as religiously. Muslims (the bigoted ones) hate Hindus but refrain from wishing death upon them because they see them as potential converts. So, in some ways, the bigoted Muslims are bound to love Hindus whereas the vice versa doesn’t possible. At least in the mayaful world of social media.
I am at that age where everybody reminds me of everybody else. I feel old because I am not enthusiastic in general anymore. Sedentary has become my religion. I restrict my food intake (only 2 meals a day) but I don’t move much. I’ve got prescription glasses but I refuse to wear them; the eyesight in my left eye is fast declining. I don’t sleep well and suffer from hallucinations. Everything hurts and still there is no immediate reprieve as I don’t want to break my vow of staying away from painkillers. It’s like being stuck between the reason to not live and an excuse to not die. Life can be cheerful as long as you are full of cheer, right? Otherwise, you are banished to an existence of nobody and nowhere. And before you notice, you’ve become a floating feather in the air from an angel unknown.
Since there are ongoing efforts to step back into the cold embrace of poetry, I’ve started scribbling couplets. Some make sense even after two days. Most don’t. Sharing one that made sense to me even after a week.
Har dard purana hai
Kuch naya nahi hai
Bas zindagi ka ehsaan hai
Kuch kamaya nahi hai
Har dard purana hai
Kuch naya nahi hai.