What is pure anyway?
When Messi decided to go to the USA instead of Saudi Arabia, a lot of us must have instantly assumed that it was a decision made from the heart. Why else would you ditch oil state moolah? Turns out there are a lot of commercial metrics attached to his move to the States, with big names like Adidas and Apple involved in the mix. Yes, had he said yes to the Saudis—not to mention, the mouthwatering prospects of seeing him clash with Cristiano—a lot of football fans would have marveled at the billion dollar deal. Imagine making that sort of sum in the fag end of your career. But, choosing a lowly Inter Miami over the more prosperous ones in MLS seemed like a bet. A month later, he has already won the team its first ever trophy and he is only getting started. There might be a massive difference between millions and a billion but an underdog story shall remain priceless.
A friend of mine recently lost someone very close. It was a sad state of affairs but the way this gentleman handled the whole situation was exemplary. He understood that there was very little to be done. She had suffered enough. Of course, a mother’s love sees no bottom and a son’s love has no sky. Yet, both the parties accepted the machinery of fate with dignity and warmth. When it’s time to say goodbye, most of us aren’t prepared. Our society is hellbent on not discussing death, and hence, when Yama knocks, we are shocked as if it has never happened before. My friend, with his calm approach to both life and finality, reminded me that nobody stays at a funeral forever.
If you are active on dynamic platforms like Twitter (Threads is the exact opposite of dynamic), you can’t be far away from doomscrolling. We are regularly bombarded with news about the impending demise of our dear planet, how things are crumbling right in front of our eyes, how there is no hope, etc. From our values to our systems, everything is in a state of perpetual decay. In other terms, the end is near. Here’s how I deal with such fearmongers on my timeline, the harbingers of terrible news, known for their excellent cherrypicking from the dark underbelly of humanity: I simply go back to history. When you read about how our species used to deal with different circumstances—not just each other vis-a-vis war or during epidemics—our modern society is having it pretty pretty good. If anything, we have a far better shot at reversing the damage and genuinely making a lasting difference. Give your thumb some rest and go plant a sapling or something.
I used to be known for my chirpiness. That guy who can’t stay quiet and has to fill all the pregnant pauses with some words because silence makes him deeply uncomfortable. But it looks like we change (a bit) with time and place. After moving to Mangalore from Gurgaon, I’ve been living in the same building for almost three years now. And this is my standard conversation with the few neighbours that I get to interact with –
Me: “Namaskara.”
Them: “Namaskara.”
That’s it.
In our neighbourhood, there is a dog named Bodda. He is basically the security fellow for the local bar. All the drunkards are his friends and he has full access to every corner. The bar manager treats him like a son. But his area of uninterrupted action has to be the parking lot. The place where he wholly asserts his territory: destroying the garbage can overnight, barking every morning at the chicken delivery van, chasing cats, rats, mongoose and pigeons away, peeing on cars and bikes whose design he doesn’t approve of, lazing in the sun right in the middle to keep an eye at all directions, etc. A year ago, there were 10 pups and he was the only one who stayed behind. Everybody else got adopted. We thought he was the unlucky one. Turns out we were mistaken. That seemingly awkward weakling has now turned into an alpha. Quite literally destined for greater things in life, a bigger share of Kavoor, perhaps. With his wide fearsome jaw and thick paws, not to mention agility and grit, I don’t think he can be stopped anytime soon.
Have you noticed that we don’t enjoy memorable TV ads anymore? Two decades ago, we used to have commercials that we actually talked about with our school friends. As of now, it looks like, neither the folks who make these ads nor the ones who are watching today, bother. Ads are now incomplete without the word ‘Skip’ in front of them. Once a year, we get a controversial ad, made deliberately to cause ruckus. In the words of the great Michael Scott, how the turn tables. First, the catchy jingles left. Then, the plots left. And eventually, the very spirit of admaking seems to have left our screen. Or maybe we are reading too much into this. With the rise of the internet, and the onlinefication of events like IPL, it’s only fair that we shift our focus from what is being broadcast to what is being streamed.
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