Hello! Me!

Today I read a blog post by me, from 2013. I felt my own thoughts, feelings, and desires. Felt like meeting an old close friend. People have many identities, many personalities, but I was never one such. Up until 2014 I was a monolith. I believe, and people who know me might agree, I never changed since kindergarten, not my face, not my mannerisms, not the way I felt. I was till 2014 a student, wanting to learn various subjects, read some, and also become a writer. That has been my identity all these years. So discovering that I have facets and layers is something very new. In 2014 I fell in love, and later got married. That year, and year after that was a blur, a roller-coaster of emotions. I was a totally different person. Love sure is crazy and also makes one crazy (in a good way!) By late 2015 I had a daughter, catching up with motherhood was quite something, especially for someone who never evolved since kindergarten! Suddenly, I had to make up for so much growth. And while I was at it, I discovered I was to have another baby soon. So by December 2016 I had two little girls. (One of my secret fantasies was to have twin girls. This was really close to that.) In the interim I also managed to have my first book published and had an offer to work on another one. With two little girls and two books I just went from one day to the other and never had the time to sit idle and reflect. Now, that my girls are both at preschool, I have some time to reflect and ponder. And once again after so many years, I sit idle, ponder, reflect, and write something from my heart. Reading the last blog by me, it seems as though time had stopped somewhere in 2013. I can’t believe I am in 2020. I still feel the same. Only when I think about these years it feels like I was on a adventure of some sorts and now I am back to me. So, hello! Me!

How to be HAPPY? Decoded the fictional way.

People are unhappy because they are not content with their station in life. In Animal Farm happiness is approached by abolishing the very cause of misery – stations in life, all are equal. In Brave New World, a different approach is adopted, people are conditioned to like the stations allotted to them, they aren’t given another choice. They are made content. They aren’t given a chance to desire for anything else. Like machines they perform pre-conditioned activities and don’t think at all.

But do they achieve happiness? The answer is a resonating NO in case of Animal Farm, whereas in Brave New World an illusion of happiness is created. “Everyone is happy now” is repeated so many times that everyone believes themselves to be happy. The savage tries to tell them that they are not free, they are slaves. He tries to arouse in them the desire to be free and human. But they seem incapable of feeling. Strong emotions are beyond them. They are sub-human babies. As Mustafa Mond puts it, even after being decanted they continue to live in their bottles.

They have paid a price to be without suffering. They have sacrificed fun. Are they happy? They can barely feel any emotion. How can they feel happiness then? They aren’t happy. They are just devoid of feelings, and so don’t experience pain, but neither do they experience happiness. The joy that comes from thinking, toiling and then achieving is lacking.

So, then both books establish that it isn’t possible to have a happy world devoid of suffering. In Animal Farm suffering re-surfaces, in Brave New World, the inmates are unaware of any feelings.

In both books people are assigned their jobs, they are supposed to like it and not question it. If they don’t have desire for something else, they won’t suffer. Doing only that what is required of them. Not thinking much beyond their set role. Easily taking soma pills (read TV, movies, music, or whatever that does not require any action, any thinking) that just lets the day pass without having to actually do anything, thus giving no occasion for getting tense. No tryst with real good or bad emotions. Just no strain on our brains. Allowing it to lie peacefully in cold storage. No real experiences, a frozen existence.

But it is desire that leads to joy also. One should desire and strive for it. But somewhere one has to draw the line and be content with one’s efforts. For never-ending desire will destroy. But this line has to be drawn by the individual. An individual has to have an individual dream, a desire distinct from that of others, unique. S/he has to individually in her/his own manner strive for it and at some point has to feel happy for having achieved whatever part of that dream. But it has to be an individual decision. Then alone will the individual feel real happiness.

Happiness is created from within and not without.

Bisleri … I have had it!

Ever overheard conversations of school children? Usually they like to boast about the great and unique experiences they have had. They like to outdo their friends in having done the new “in” thing before them. And so they rattle on endlessly with tales of uber cool holidays to Paris or US, or describe (in much detail) and flaunt their latest gizmos, gadgets, comp. games, mobiles, ipods, iphones and the like. They talk of the cool restaurants they have been to, the various cuisines they have tried, the latest mocktail or cocktail that they had. Also, of designer clothes and accessories.

Lately I happened to encounter one such competition between two school girls. It was sparked by my bottle of Bisleri water. One girl asked the other what I was having. The other felt great and enlightened her friend about the contents of my bottle. The ignorant girl was a bit astonished that it was just water after all. The enlightened girl carried on, its water, Bisleri, I have had it. When we had gone out last year my dad purchased a big bottle of it (mine was too small, so she outdid me too). We drank from it, all of us had it. I have had Bisleri, she announced with pride. The ignorant was awed by the reach of her friend. After all she had had Bisleri.



(I over heard this, not in a village or such place, but in the trains of our very affluent Mumbai)

The Last Salute

- Sadaat Hasan Manto



Subedar Rab Nawaz’s confusion is a result of the war that he is fighting against his own friends. Until yesterday he belonged to 6/9 Jat regiment and was an Indian soldier. Now suddenly he is a Pakistani soldier and people, such as Ram Singh, who was born in his village, studied in his school and whose father too was his father’s childhood friend, is an Indian soldier. He couldn’t understand that just some time back they were united in the Second World War. But now he didn’t know why he was warring against friends. The motto of war in 1947 baffled him. He needed some reason to fight it and so did Ram Singh, but both were confused- who was this war against and who was it for? Since they knew soldiers on both sides.

Though Rab Nawaz’s confusion arises out of fighting against friends, I am sure every soldier does feel confused as to the motto. Why is he fighting? Why is he killing people he doesn’t even know?

How can one kill many? Just go on killing. There has to be a reason. A reason to justify the acts to one’s conscience, to keep one going, to make one kill. A reason, not just a reason – a CAUSE. It’s noble. My country, I fight for my nation’s pride and HONOUR. It’s a noble cause, very great, very vast. It’s bigger than all of us. However this cause is just so abstract that it creates an aura about itself. Every side feels that they are fighting for good against evil, let alone humanity. But how does good restore its HONOUR by killing. And are wars really fought to uphold GOOD, HONOUR?

Condider this poem:

The Next War

Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death;

Sat down an eaten with him, cool and bland, -

Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.

We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,

-Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe.

He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed

Shrapnel. We chorused when he sang aloft;

We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe.

Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!

We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.

No soldier's paid to kick against his powers.

We laughed, knowing that better men would come,

And greater wars; when each proud fighter brags

He wars on Death - for lives; not men - for flags.

Wilfred Owen

Persuasion

A small girl in the train. I smiled. She caught it; flashed a tray full of rubber bands at me. No, I shook my head. I didn’t need any. She picked up another tray of clips and rushed towards me. No, I shook my head. I didn’t need any. Then I looked at her, then at the clips. One of them was fine. How much? I asked her, pointing towards a clip- part of a packet of three. She quoted the price of all three. Not the pack, just one, said I. She insisted, I’ll reduce the rates, take the whole pack. I don’t need any, I reminded, and anyways all three of them look the same. No, she pointed out, one is black and one red (it was a pretty carmine), and the other “chocolatey” (it was dark brunt sienna). Ya, but still it’s the same pattern. I don’t need them.

Then I bought them, all three of them, despite their being identical. Why did I purchase those clips? For her chubby cheeks, her innocence, her cuteness, or for her childhood that was lost in selling those clips.



The least I could do was buy them (lame)