On birthdays and bullshits
India is an ironic case. It’s a host to millions of gods in millions of villages but the funny part is God left this country a long time…
India is an ironic case. It’s a host to millions of gods in millions of villages but the funny part is God left this country a long time ago. When Kumbh Mela takes place and the greatest human gathering in human history unfolds, god must be screaming somewhere — “LEAVE ME ALONE!”
One of my favourite words in English is purpose. It has its roots in French and and is quite a dangerous term to drop in a social gathering, especially an official one. What exactly is the purpose of our lives or this damned meeting? Why do we do what we do? Where are we going with it? How does this make us feel about ourselves? At a collective level, we can find a common goal and work towards achieving it but at an individual scale, it becomes a very difficult question. Fortunately, there are people on this planet who have found a purpose in their lives. They might be doing good (anthropologists, artists, activists, etc.) or they might be doing bad (serial killers, drug lords, corporate magnates, etc.) but when the sun sets, they have something waiting for them on the other side of the horizon.
Messi’s nose was bleeding on Wednesday night during the Barcelona-Manchester United CL match. He is doubtful about the league match this weekend and might not even show up for the return leg next week. If I were to interview him, I would definitely ask whether he ever had a throbbing headache before or during a match. And if yes, how did he deal with it? Pain is temporary and glory might be permanent; however, how is his pain different from mine? Just because somebody gets up every time he is pushed doesn’t mean that the person is immune to gravity. He simply has learnt how to dribble through his problems better.
Not everybody knows how to deal with growth. Imagine a German shepherd that could once handle 200 sheep but now is struggling with 300. He can’t keep up with them as they run awry, trampling his authority and making him look like Ranga. To make his case weaker, he is not even old yet. He is supposed to be in his prime. Maybe 200 was his peak performance and his professional life is a downhill since. Maybe he is not meant to go beyond. Maybe he needs to suffer a little. After all, suffering is internal to growth.
When people tell me how their families regularly have food together, I am saddened as well as relieved. Saddened because that’s something every kid should have and something I felt should have been a part of my childhood; relieved because I am quite old now and it doesn’t really matter anymore whether we have lunch/dine together or not. Yes, my family has been dysfunctional since 1986 and yet, there are always glimmers of humour to latch on to. My dad turned 72 this week and I called to wish him. On being asked whether others have wished him, he said everybody (missus and brother) did except amma. Before I could say anything, he added, “I will ask her to wish me in the evening.”
Election season is upon us in India and even the blind amongst us can clearly see the desperate hunger for power. Those from the regime are willing to bend every rule possible to score an advantage. To them, they aren’t doing anything different from the reigns of the past. They’ve learnt from the masters and are merely perfecting the art form. Just that the Age of Social Media ensures every little move is on record. Nothing escapes our attention because under the disguise of civic/virtue duties, we crave entertainment. Democracy would have been very boring if our politicians weren’t so filthy. Powerful folks find it very hard to relinquish what they believe belongs to them. People like us go to vote not because we feel powerful but because it’s the rule of a game we can’t do without. Change comes shyly to an overpopulated nation like ours but it always does. And somewhere down the line, our vote counts. If not in this election, then the next one.
I am less than a month away from turning 33. I look young but I feel old. My tolerance is diminishing faster than my eyesight. Sleep continues to be an issue. I eat clumsily and say awkward things more often than necessary. My spouse, friends and colleagues are nice enough to overlook a lot of my antics. In my defense, however, I am growing and becoming a different person. I can’t take others’ bullshit. I already have enough of my own. If I continue to tolerate, it would be like me being drenched in crap and you are like — “Can I take a dump on you?”