Just a thought!

I have often seen that people try and brand the problem of ‘Atrocities on Women’ as a recent phenomenon. Politically motivated rhetoric seems to imply that the concerned problem is a rather modern enigma and hence demands a contemporary approach. Well I would beg to differ there. Atrocities towards women are as old as humanity itself. It probably started the day Cro-Magnon male realized that he is more powerful than his female counterpart. I was reading this Bengali book called Sei Somoy (roughly translatable to ‘Those Times’) penned by the Sahitya Akademy award winning literary stalwart Late Sunil Gangopadhyay. The said book deals with the upper and upper-middle class Calcutta society of the mid and late nineteenth century. The sexual exploits of some of the then scions are horrific and disgusting to say the least. Mind you, it deals with a time when extreme conservatism and social sanctions were the order of the day. There is, however, a significant possibility that a small fraction of the current spate of affairs actually has its roots in the so-called ‘emancipation’ of women and its consequent ‘male backlash’. But the change, as someone mentioned, is too microscopic for anybody’s comfort. In fact, as much as people might disagree with what I theorize, this problem also has its origin in the concept of class. Gender also signifies a class. The traditional relationship between a man and a woman (no matter which country is being referred to) has always been that of an owner and his servant or that of a manager and his employee or that of a landowner and a landless or even that between a Brahmin and a Dalit. This concept of class in turn gives rise to exploitation thus leading to mass social imbalance. Just as Physics prescribes, the only solution lies in redrawing the power equation. Then again, the concept of feasibility buts in! No matter how much we go on talking about it, we have not yet figured out a way that would actually engulf this difference and bring about an egalitarian society, not just in terms of class but in terms of gender as well!!

A reality check...

While the brouhaha is on about the most recent incident of gang-rape in Delhi and its aftermath on the kind of punishment that awaits the accused, let us have a reality check about our own state in the meanwhile. Though it has become more of a fashion to label Delhi as the rape capital of the country and subsequently indulge in a more dangerous blame game involving a certain community, figures prove that the number of similar incidents is increasing at an alarming pace in Assam as well.

According to sources in the Assam police, the number of incidents involving the kidnapping of women or girls in the state has gone up from 1,456 in 2005 to 2,998 in 2011. The number of rape cases has significantly increased to 2,011 in 2011 from a much lower figure of 1,217 in 2005. The number of molestation cases has also jumped to 1,446 in 2011 from 899 in 2005. Now these are only official figures and the number would go up if scores of other unreported cases are included in the tally. The GS Road incident, which was an equally ghastly episode, isn't history yet. The incident involving the poor tribal girl, who was openly stripped and mercilessly beaten by a beastly mob in Guwahati, hasn't really skipped public memory till now. I would also take the liberty here to cite a recent happening where an NRL official was arrested for raping a married woman.

Thus a comment like “North-east is a better place for women” doesn't really hold ground under the given circumstances and is a kind of escapism. While it is prudent to identify areas of trouble and take necessary steps, a one-eyed approach like shifting the blame on a particular city only worsens the already complicated scenario. A causal and not an effects-oriented approach is the order of the day. We got to be empathetic here and not sympathetic. This is not Delhi’s problem alone. This is a problem afflicting the entire country and thus need a single-focussed approach. Although, nothing and I repeat nothing could possibly justify such a heinous act, the fact remains that there are deeper and more intricate social reasons which are responsible for the current milieu. All of us need to find those reasons out and sort them out rather than cry senselessly over a single incident and considering it as the end of the world. The reasons could be the subject of a different discussion that I would be taking up some other day.

Coherent(??) thoughts!

Here I am finally where I belonged, or is it? OK give me a bit of time and breathing space to figure out as to why I am here at the first place. Before I actually scribble an assortment of words that might mean something (or chances are that things might be otherwise), let me jot down everything punctuating my very turbulent mind and entity right now. There are bound to be questions that would ridicule my present effort and rightfully so. Neither am I trying to make a point here nor is this an attempt to increase collective awareness. I am just trying to pacify my rattled and challenged persona. Yes, I am quite aware that the more sensible lot would actually recommend me to write a diary as this in no way would attract public curiosity or contempt or compassion for that matter (important ingredients for a blog to be read). Yet, somewhere somehow, everyone expects to be heard and understood and I don’t stand an exception. With this, I guess, I have tried to explain my position. I wouldn't blame anyone who refuses to believe my version as I myself would have scoffed at a similar attempt by someone else. So, with doubts galore, let me begin my tale (not really, although a ‘writer’ always wants to tell a tale). As told earlier, I would begin my ‘whatever’ with a spontaneous ranting of words (or phrases or clauses), not necessarily in a definite order though, that I would try (honestly) to weave henceforth into a meaningful scribble. Nostalgia, teenage, school life, college life, magical nineties, haunting past, a journey, moments, songs, movies, incidents, deaths, personalities, teachers. I don’t claim to have included everything that I might use in my ‘meaningful’ (or meaningless) rumblings set to follow. OK the story (or the stories) goes (or go) like this.

While, there are people who might have ignored the impact (or should I be more politically correct in using the word influence) of past on their lives, I belong to the more tested (yet unfortunate) group of people who are always drawn towards past. I remember Amrith Lal, my earlier boss and News Editor at the TOI in Chennai, once having told me that nostalgia is a very dangerous proposition that creates a kind of seasonal contempt for the foreseeable future and makes us cling to the past, thus stunting development and natural growth. In fact, he went to the extent of calling nostalgia a negative inertia. As much as I agree with his very erudite interpretation, I have reasons to believe that life is not always governed by what is beneficial to the greater lot of people. So, I am still drawn towards past and nostalgia is still a word to reckon with in my personal dictionary. So, what is it that I am trying to prove? OK to put it in simple terms, I often get enthralled at the prospect of going back in time (although at the hindsight, I really can’t imagine my life without the modern gazettes that I have been sporting for quite a while now). So, I tried reasoning it out with myself and tried to demystify the myth associated with past. So, I surveyed people around (not exhaustive by any stretch of imagination though) and I was astonished to find that my symptoms were neither uncommon nor something that I should be worried about. Although technically we can never arrive at a conclusion (an over-hyped hypothetical word), I am safe to infer that past, more or less, takes everyone into its cozy (sometimes thorny as well) lap.

In fact, we would be astonished to find how often teenage is deeply associated with any nostalgic moment. Again, I am no psychologist to be able to offer an explanation for this. May be (I reiterate, may be), teenage is by far the best time of our life although popular literature and dominant social belief have always given that rare honour to childhood. With all due respects to childhood, I would like to differ. Here, I will tread a different territory to prove my point. For me and a lot of other people, childhood is too dreamy and good to be true. Nostalgia is actually that part of the past that we can relate to and imagine ourselves to be in, rather than a distant hazy and dreamy world that, we know, we were once in. So, see within yourselves listen to those old songs, see those old movies and you would actually appreciate that it is teenage that is coming back to you rather than childhood. And the moment, we start ruminating about our teenage days; things that invariably crowd our mind include a song that we had loved back then, a movie that had given us sweet dreams, that special girl (or boy) who had often jammed our thought process, the youth icon who had inspired us to do something in life (Sachin, Sonu and Nachiketa for me) and not to mention that special individual who was a dear part of our life but is not there anymore (subject to a myriad range of reasons). The thoughts make you at once happy and sad. Again, I fail to give reasons (purely my fault though for not being a behaviour analyst). So, we go back to the moot question. What is it that I am trying to establish? Nothing! Yes, at the outset itself, I had warned that I am not trying to prove any point. Now, as I am churning out this nonsense, I am getting nostalgic listening to an old Indipop number Tera milnaa pal do palka by Sonu Nigam that came out sometime in 1998 (I was a seventh-grader then and was just about to enter the exotic club of teenagers). So, folks (which in any case would only be me), for now, I have to bid goodbye. I would like to continue with my discourse in future blogs (I don’t claim to maintain continuity though).

Good Day!!

Nostalgia and Past

What exactly is nostalgia? It wouldn’t be justice done if it were to be described just as a state of mind when people ruminate (is that the word?) about their past. At least, in my life, it has a far greater significance. For me, past has never haunted, it has always enthralled. Even the bitterest experience of my life when looked at from hindsight seemed to be a cherishing entity. In fact, there is something innate which can be inferred from this. It wouldn’t be exaggerating to state that this implies that every moment has something enjoyable even though not apparent at the very first sight. It is often advised to take lessons from the past and move on. But today, I would hit at the very root of this widely accepted belief. Firstly, there is nothing called ‘moving on’ as we are compulsorily ‘moved on’ by time itself even if we want to hold onto it tightly. Secondly, by the time we learn from our mistakes (although if we consider from a certain angle then we would find that mistake in itself is a mythical term), those moments might not recur in our life.

I have realized over a period of time that every moment is unique in its own terms and each such moment needs to be experienced if not savoured in its entirety. Nostalgia is a brilliant rejoinder to this. We always want to go back to the past. In fact, the fascination for the past always overpowers the penchant for securing a safe future. This in itself suggests that things that have already been experienced are more important than things that are yet to be experienced. My only point here is that past is not as insignificant as some people want to put it partly because of ideological bickering and partly because of the dearth of serious contemplations.

I would just conclude by saying that living in the past has a charm of its own and someone who does that does not deserve to be denigrated (A perfect case in point is ‘myself).

An untold story

It was a calm evening. The wind was gently blowing across the quiet valley enchanting all the living beings in its mysterious path. The twilight all around was only adding to the omnipresent softness of the delicate period. Life seemed to be a treat, a gift to cherish and an entity worth dying for. I, as usual ,was sitting under a tree and contemplating about the intricacies of life in all its varied manifestations. Suddenly, I saw her like a goddess in the isle. Like a starlet in the sky, she was twinkling with mildness; mildness that made her confident, mildness that made her self-assured and mildness that gave her a unique strength. Her light hairs like naughty kids covered her face just as clouds cover the moon during rainy seasons. Her steps were telling hitherto untold stories; stories which if verbalized might very well account for a severe blasphemy. Her sight was dreamy. I looked at her just as Archimedes might have looked at the bath tub immediately after his grand discovery of the phenomenon of buoyancy. Life has its own moments of jubilation; moments which define a person’s life and apparitions. It was one of those moments for me; a moment which took me by a storm, a moment which redefined my convictions and last but not the least a moment which altered my perspective towards life. I knew that I liked her. I also knew that I respected her but I never knew that my liking and respect had actually given way to unconditional admiration; a divine feeling which propels us to the path of self-discovery. For me, my feelings for her were sacrosanct. There are compartments in everyone’s life which are not put up to face public glare. This was one such domain. I tried reversing the universal trend of nature; that of hiding the fire under the ashes. Ishq par jor nehi, he ye woh ali shayar, jo chhupaaye naa chhupe. This song from the film Dil Se catches the exact vive to describe my feelings. I tasted the forbidden water from the golden river for the first time; a taste which almost compelled me to re-prioritize my entire life.
                                                                                                                                          

Tale of a Democracy

He comes, he (more often than not) sees and after that, as expected, he conquers. He transcribes English reports seamlessly into Bhojpuri (yes, you read right, Poor Vajpayeeji would remember). He breaks the box and writes his own scripts of functioning (Did I ever mention representative decorum?). He is blessed with a unique capacity to turn mundane and boring parliamentary sessions into audiovisual wonders having the potential to compel K-serials to come up with freshly baked ideas in order to retain high TRPs. He is a born rebel (Reader’s discretion is solicited). Swapping parties like experimenting with attires is his inborn forte. He is always honest to his electorate (really!) even if that means rallying against his party and endorsing rebel party candidates. Meet Mr. Beni Prasad Verma, a Congress Lok Sabha MP from Uttar Pradesh, who creates controversies at the same rate as that of a roadside Dhabawallah in Delhi doling out Paranthas. Tall, dynamic (always in motion, literally!), handsome (categorically yes!) and visionary (brilliant eyesight to read between the lines!); this gem of a politician has actually ornamented many a Lok Sabha sessions with his oratory excellence. It is indeed a treat to come up across a politician of such magnanimous hue and colour. When we stop and take a look around the hugely entertaining Indian political minefield, we find that there is no dearth of such politicians wallowing their way through the rough political terrains with utter disdain. Mr. Verma is just one of those privileged people (Oh! yea). From this, we can safely infer that our country is in able hands and we can move ahead in our life contented (that we always are!) that there are people who would hold our ever-sinking (never really sinks) ships. True tale of a genuinely realistic actual democracy (emphasizing!). Jai Hind!

Anatomy of Love

We often talk about having a ‘crush’ on a certain girl or a certain guy depending on our sexuality (I am also including the LGBT community in my discourse). But do we actually know as to what we are deliberating upon or more specifically do we actually mean what we verbally express. Now, depending on the intensity of the ‘crush’, it might metamorphose to the next logical step which in popular parlance is called ‘love’. I have tried albeit in vein to go deep down into this whole phenomenon and ascertain the exact anatomy of this process. At one point in time in my life, I used to think that ‘love’ is actually a sugar-coated term for sexual attraction, but then how would you go about defining the phenomenon when it goes beyond the normal sexual relationship as in the cases of our parents. The ironical contradictions start right from here. But would this relationship happen between two heterosexual guys or two heterosexual girls? The answer is a forgone conclusion which is a ‘no’. Then what is it which goes about bonding two individuals? Seriously, I am pretty sure that even the best psychologists would not be able to come up with one single convincing answer. A lot of psychoanalysts have tried to unravel the mystery behind this process. In the course, umpteen theories have cropped up but the sum and substance of the phenomenon has remained an elusive entity. What exactly happens when an individual gets attracted to another individual? Biologists would say that certain hormones work in tandem to create this feeling. But is it really that simple or does it go beyond what is obvious and on the face? In fact, why is it that only one individual from a crowd attracts another individual? I mean, these are certain questions whose answers are not as simple as we deem them to be. If we are to analyze this process in detail, then we have to take some specific examples.

Rahul (Name changed) saw Anita (Name changed) in a wedding ceremony. Rahul for some reason continued to stare at Anita although he had no idea as to who this girl was. After some time, he went ahead and got introduced with the girl and within no time became good friends. The ending of the story is not important. The most significant part of the story is that Rahul got attracted to only Anita amongst a bevy of girls present in the party. So, biologists, how would you guys explain as to what was so special about Anita? If we were to follow the case in its totality, we would be able to appreciate that Rahul continued thinking about Anita even after he was done with the wedding party and it was not all about sex although it might have been a part of his thinking which is nothing but natural.

If we dissect literature from across the world, it can be seen that 'love' has been romanticized and immortalized to the extent that it is viewed as a special creation of nature. According to my very own ignorant interpretation, it has been done to erase the physical aspects of the process and give it a divine form. May be it is inherent in men to castigate all physical processes as vulgar and not worthy to talk about although we do find mentions of physical beauties in ancient Indian literature which have been brandished as erotic scriptures by the western pundits. I vehemently oppose this partial approach to 'love' as it is intrinsically related to physical satisfaction. And there lies the beauty of 'love'. A person can offer his/her body to another individual only when he/she is comfortable with the other individual and that happens only when he/she trusts and thus loves the other individual. Although, skeptics might argue that in the present age of instant gratification, these words are all but idealistic but even he deep down his heart knows this to be true.