Knock On The Door

I hear a knock on my door. The door bell is broken. I haven’t fixed it. Why should I? I am not expecting anyone. Not anyone I can think of. Wait. Could it be? Is she coming back? She did leave in a huff. Could have changed her mind. Haste never is good, I used to tell her. She said I was just lazy. I guess she was partly right. But it evens out. If she was right half the time, she was wrong the other half. That’s how it all works out. Nobody is right all the time. Maybe she realizes it now. That kind of thing happens. When given enough time to think, people see their mistakes. And people do make mistakes. It is part of being human, isn’t it? That’s where the whole idea of second chances come in. That’s how we correct our mistakes. If  we want to, that is. Do we take them – the second chances? All of us? I don’t think so. But I have a higher level of faith in my girl than I have in humanity as a whole. She will take that second chance. The time to think. So maybe she thought a bit. Or maybe a lot. You can think a little or a lot in any given time. And she saw she shouldn’t have left in her typical ‘Or I’ll huff and I’ll puff till I blow your house in’ kind of way. So she felt remorse and has decided to mend fences. She wants to say she is sorry. That we shouldn’t have split. But then she is headstrong. She is the kind of girl who would want me to apologize even when she is the one at fault. You know that kind, don’t you? It has something to do with their ego. Or absolute lack of it. I remember reading something of that sort in one of those ‘Man, Woman, & Relationships’ book. Pretty pretentious that lot is. How they make suckers of the common man!

One thing is for sure. She ain’t getting off easy this time around. I am sick of these temper tantrums. It gets on your nerves after a point, you know. I mean, in the beginning it is cute and all. She throws a fit, walks out and you stand there thinking, ‘It’s OK. This is what they do. Take a deep breath and just go and get her back home. Buy her something she wants if that works.’ It’s once again the thrill of the chase for you and the rush of being chased for them. Lovers become a couple on their first date once again in that brief time span. Romantic, right? But after thirty odd encores it is no more fun or OK. Especially when you have run out of new entreaties and the money to buy ‘welcome-back-gifts.’ Maybe she sees what I see. That is why she is back. She isn’t stupid or anything. She understands and she knows. Clever little fox she is, I admit. I remember this one time when we were out for a proper dinner in one of those restaurants where even the waiters seem to dress better than you, and we couldn’t get a place to sit. So we stood there at the reception with a dozen other people; all of us pretending as if we were not really praying for the bastards inside to eat real quick so that we can get on with our dinners. Out of the blue my lady’s shapely knees seemed to give in and before I could say ‘What the Hell!’ she was on the plush carpeted floor making a bed out of it. A kind of civilized ‘ooh,’ ‘aah,’ and ‘Oh my God!’ rose from the assembled crowd in tandem and had turned into a restrained murmur as the restaurant manager walked in. Just as he kneels down beside her my lady opened her eyes and wiped her brow in a proper lady-like gesture.

“Are you all right, Madam?” The manager’s voice showed a respectful and appropriate concern. I wondered if that tone would ever cut ice when proposing a girl.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” says my lady as she gestures the manager to come closer to her. Then she whispers something into his ears. As I watch, the manager’s face seemed to reflect all the things his voice had just a moment ago. He looked at her for one more second before assisting her back on two legs. My lady smiles apologetically at the waiting crowd. The Manager escorts us to the dining room door. Another murmur rises from our dozen odd compatriots-in-misery but does not sound so civilized this time around.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen, please accept my deepest apologies but this lady here is pregnant and as you saw needs immediate attention. With your kind permission, allow me to take her inside and help her settle into a chair.” Having said that, he ushered us to a table from which he dexterously removed a small sign that read ‘Reserved.’ After he had asked my companion thrice if he could get her a doctor, an offer she firmly declined thrice, and left us promising to return with our dinner in five minutes or less, I turned to my lady and beamed. Clever little fox, this one, I said to myself, smiling broadly at the people around with genuine pride.

The knocking is a bit impatient on the door now. Haste makes waste and often is the root cause of worry, I’d always said to her. But love is not only blind but many a times I have found it to be deaf too. I could have been talking to a wall. She just goes ahead and does what she feels like doing at any given moment. ‘Be spontaneous,’ she’d say. Spontaneous, my foot! Who’s waiting impatiently outside the door knocking to make amends now, Ms. Spontaneous?! Hah! It would be a real pleasure to see her sorry-faced pride now. Wait. That knock somehow seems to lack the grace of a ladylike request for entry into someone’s house. It sounds more angry than apologetic. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s the landlord. Those people are animals, I say. Not an inch of humanity in the whole length and breadth of their bodies. Like ghosts they haunt you till they get their green. Or could it be the neighbor who always wants to know if I’m fine? Pesky fellow that one. Can’t stand him. He can literally chase you down a block or two just to check with you if you are fine. I mean, people with such over-enthusiastic concern about others are real pain-in-the-you-know-where. But it’s a bit early for him to be up and about. It could be… Mmm…Who could it be? I am not expecting anyone really… I mean, no one has come around in a while… The doorbell died a long time ago, you know… can’t think who it could be… I’m not expecting anyone… the doorbell, it hasn’t been fixed…

Is there a knock at my front door? I thought I heard something.


Happy Endings

 

He was sickeningly lonely.
She wanted to be cherished.
She gave him companionship.
He gave her a diamond ring.
‘Now we are happy,’ said they
and died – together
in their private peace.

 


Oh! Mother, Maiden, Moonchild!

What worship distorts your visions,
what debauchery impugns your soul
what dreams your nightmares hide
what joy your sadness pervert?

Oh, mother, maiden, moonchild! -
whisper to me as this falling night
what darkness your heart beholds
what tragedy so undying a love?

 


Nauseate If You Must But Don’t Fall Off

The human world hangs in a dark universe. Like a glowing, red terracotta lamp. The kind that lights up living room corners of people convinced of their aesthetic tastes and can afford convictions. Little black bugs, flies and mosquitoes buzz around the warm spot of life, swarm it in increasing frenzy. Lust for life hums in relief. The vast expanse of lifeless, lightless universe around it waits patiently. Like a pet python that knows the chicken thrown inside its cage has no escape. Certainty gives one the patience of a saint.

And the world goes on spinning. Ever so fast. But not more so. In its pitch-perfect way. Every day, every hour, every millisecond spinning toward an absolute unknown. Perfect in its calculated motion. Perfect on its axis. Spinning. Like a merry-go-round. Round and round and round and round. Nauseate if you must, but don’t fall off.

Don’t take your feet off the ground. The ground is haloed. It is the warm spot of life. Where the sun doesn’t turn you into cinder. Where the moon doesn’t suck life out of your lungs. Love, laughter, lust, even if available in carbon copies made in triplicate, give you reasons to dream. Holding hands and smiling babies divulge meaning. Sustenance is to be found. Stay on the ground. Off it there’s only floating emptiness. Without light, without life. Causeless. Ceaseless. Helpless isolation in a darkness without end. Floating in dead cold. Going nowhere but going all the same. It’s so black out there the Grey in here is beguiling. Don’t take your feet off the ground. Nauseate if you must but don’t fall off.

You have seen them before. The fallen. They are everywhere.

At the bottom of ravines and cliffs.
Splattered on concrete pavements next to tall buildings.
Hanging from ceilings and trees.
Bloating in sewers and decimated on train tracks running through every city.
You have heard the stories. The shotgun in the mouth, empty sleeping pill bottles by the couch,
needle sticking out of bleeding veins, an overdose of something not really sane.
You have seen them stare mutely from obituary columns that say – You Left Us Too Early.
In Fond Memory, it is not.

It’s a scar.

The mark of sheer brutality.
Incomprehensible as all that lies in the dark is. Unreasonable, it is.
The calling card left behind by some invisible, invincible enemy.
Whose cold, calm hands drain away the red of life with manic precision.
Leaving us with the blue of pain, and then, the black of absence in our lives.
The black void of goodbyes never said and the hellos never to be said again.
Of loss. Of grief that pales only because the horror is too much.
The living cannot dwell in emptiness for long.

We must keep spinning. In the dark. Against the dark. Spin.
Round and round and round and round. Nauseate if you must but don’t fall off.
There’s some white in grey but none in black. Hold on.


Same Old Feeling

I must have heard it
a thousand times before
or more
you know I been around
been out in the sun
too long
but now as your lips
carve those words in air
as if on stone
I kneel down once again
as always
head bowed on the floor
knight me, my angel
I surrender to the magic
surrender to mere words
I’m a child once again
in my soul.


Pilgrim of Life

When I hear people rave about the sublime beauty of butterflies, the awe-inspiring sight of Niagara falls, the overwhelming sense of discovery to be felt in Amazon rain forests, or the feeling of divine peace experienced standing by the magnificent sea, I realize I’ve experienced all these emotions, maybe with greater intensity, just watching a beautiful woman ensconced in the warm embrace of restful sleep.


On Being Crazy

Each one of us, irrespective of who we are, has to be deemed ‘crazy’at least once in our lifetime. As human beings we must attempt the courage to step outside the confines of custom at least once to experience what is possible.


Monuments of Mine

From the bleakness of a frayed page-
a beckoning
frailties strung on a twine-
memories
laughter silenced in matte-
framed longings
time deformed by vanity
pointers of what could
have been,
sensations sterilized
in two-dimensional reality
a scrapbook summation
to transitory life,
me
drifting away
from me
an iceberg
breaking off
from the Arctic,
a crack
a crash
an upheaval out of sight
a sucking in of air
gurgling asymmetry
fading in
the timelessness
of the sea.


Knights In Shining Armor

We are all ‘knights in shining armor,’ you know. You, me, the man on the street, that cute-faced chick…. Each one of us, man! Each one of us! Beautiful! Brave! Benevolent! And this armor that we build to protect our fragile selves, this beautiful to behold piece of man’s imaginative, inventive best, somehow always seems to end up barricading those very things that we protect ourselves for. But, hell, the damn thing is shiny, ain’t it! It impresses everybody. And we’ll be spit-polishing these till the day we die. We – the knights in shining armor!


India and The Indian: A Relationship On Ice

Sex, God, And Country – Part 2 0f 2. [Conclusion]

Aspirations versus Actuality

Right from our days as young kids the dictum ‘Unity in diversity’ has been held up to us by well-meaning people as a self-evident truth while explaining what India is. As adults it becomes obvious to us that those words are no more representative of existent realities than the many other words we learned by rote in school and often still repeat with moving earnestness, including: ‘India is my country. All Indians are my brothers and sisters. I love my country and I am proud of its rich and varied heritage. I shall always strive to be worthy of it. I shall give my parents, teachers and all elders respect and treat everyone with courtesy. To my country and my people, I pledge my devotion. In their well being and prosperity alone, lies my happiness.’ Just like our National Pledge is best understood as a noble and deeply appealing intent – a stated ideal we can and should be striving towards, the saying ‘Unity in diversity’ has relevance when understood, at best, as an honest appeal to what should be, and not what is. Our national character is diverse, no doubt, but there is no unity in that diversity unless we decide that geography is the only factor that gives meaning and credence to the word ‘unity.’

The truth of our nation is much less ideal. The diversity in India does not infuse into a harmonious unity but exists in a state of latent conflict underneath the broad strokes of the ‘spiritual, educated, democratic, liberalized’ varnish our society is painted with. Imperceptible at a cocktail party or cricket stadium, the motive power that shapes our national character lies as a molten mass of raw emotions and naked prejudices; culturally inherited and consistently reaffirmed ideas, identities and ideologies existing in a state of flux without syncretic possibilities. The reality born from this national subconscious is not unity but contradiction. To understand the visible character of India as a nation we need to first understand this twilight zone.

The Contradictions

The loud, colorful, dazzling, phantasmagorical display that characterizes the dominant idea of India – like fireworks adorning a night sky – is the visible end result of two very different and often paradoxical realities coming together, sometimes with great sensory appeal, and sometimes with horrific consequences; often, if not always, rising from the same national subconscious. If one enthralls us with the enlightened spirit of public demonstrations by same-sex lovers for their fundamental rights, the other, with equal power, jolts our senses with the dismay, disillusionment and terror of the young men and women stabbed to death, burnt alive or hung from trees for falling in love outside their castes. Both are notions of justice as experienced in our country. The noble vision of social activists fighting against the primitivepractice of child-marriage in our country gets its contrast from the picture of school age children proclaiming sexual liberation by having sex on camera and posting it on the internet. Both are notions of freedom as experienced in our country. The dripping, volatile bloody red of rape, murder, mass destruction and uncontrolled rage Indians unleash on one another in the name of their inherited Gods achieves a somnambulist sensibility against the tricolors of a nation that comes together as one under the bat of Sachin Tendulkar and enthrones him ‘God.’ Both are notions of fidelity as practiced in our country. The black that underscores the ignorance of the largest illiterate population in the whole world is submerged in the jubilant white of a whole nation that feels liberated in exercising its right to vote. Both are notions of life as they exist in our country. Underneath such stark, visible patterns lies the hidden truth of our nation. The contradictions we see, in that sense, are not just contradictions; they are clues to the psyche of this grand spectacle called India.

The Other 2 ‘G’ Debacle

A typical Indian who adorns the walls of his house with framed pictures of his god alongside pictures of his favorite political leaders is an ignoramus. No. He is not. He is the keeper of a secret that binds India together. To hold these disparate forces – one, ethereal, and the other, earthly – within the same reverential framework, all he has to do is look through the eyes of his ancestors – and see the world as a manifestation of a single life source; a popular idea from the rich spiritual past of our nation. And as far as God and Government (politics) are concerned there are enough unifying properties between them for the aam admi to find:

  1. Both are deemed as powers above him.
  2. Both are invisible, and are represented by a chosen few.
  3. Both originated in his awareness as benevolent forces.
  4. Both can be held responsible for the miseries plaguing him.
  5. Both work in mysterious ways; that is, beyond the understanding of common folks like him.
  6. Both have faithful believers and vehement critics.
  7. Both demand certain discipline in believers, and invoke specific rituals.
  8. Both promise Heaven in return of his faith: one, literally, and the other, figuratively.
  9. Both are inherited, and (usually) adopted by default rather than design in his life.

It is not any different from understanding the appeal of superheroes in a kid’s fantasy. No matter how different their costumes are, where they originated from or what their powers, all superheroes personify the same values and ultimately, the victory of Good over Evil. In essence, a superhero becomes the symbol of hope for all mankind. Similar is the essence and appeal of God and Government. For the aam admi, his destiny is irrevocably tied to the two.

My God Vs. The Government

In spite of attributing such a decisive role to them in his fortunes, when it comes to more pronounced expressions of his fidelity to the two the aam admi reveals the inherent contradictions of Indian psyche that guide his actions. He is happy to volunteer money for God but money to Government is involuntary and parted with under the fear of prosecution and jail time. The irony here lies in the fact that the reasons offered by his Government while demanding his money and the predominant motives that inspire him to voluntarily donate money to his God are the same.

For the sake of greater clarity, let’s state the obvious – that God, as understood by His believers – the supreme creator of all things dead and living, would in no way need a man-made tool of trade. Keeping that in mind, three plausible reasons can be offered for Man’s financial munificence when it comes to his God. One, in his misguided earnestness, he applies the principle of trade among men to his relationship with God, and thereby, offers Him money as a token of gratitude for heavenly favors bestowed or as an incentive for the divine blessings he expects to be receive. Two, driven by a more pragmatic sensibility and altruistic inclination, he donates money to God so that the representatives of his God can deploy the funds in the welfare of the destitute as many religious organizations do. The third reason can be that he wants to ensure the upkeep and continued operation of his God’s institutions and thereby, his God’s presence among men in the times to come. A government, especially a democratic government, needs money for the exact same reasons.

Of course, lack of trust in government can be held up as an argument to explain the reluctance felt towards paying taxes. But when we see that almost every single act of subversion the representatives of our government can be accused of hold equally good and true when it comes to the representatives of God, that argument loses much of its credibility. Misappropriation of public funds, use of public office for personal gains, income tax evasions, sex scandals, accumulation of wealth inappropriate to known sources of income, illegal land acquisitions… the ‘criminal breach of trust’ list fits both parties well. Now, if we are to judge purely by results, the poor performance of our elected governments are no poorer than our chosen God. On the contrary, considering that God has the power to work miracles and had more time than any government anywhere to usher in His world of peace, prosperity, and justice for all, it is ironic that people are so vindictive of the failures of a democratic government made up of mere humans.

The second visible, and significant disparity in the expression of his subservience to the two powers above him can be found in the way how involved the aam admi is with his God and indifferent to his Government. Communion with God through prayers is a part of his normal day. Fasting for His blessings on specific days or dates is considered a must, or at least, highly recommended. All important aspects of his life – birth, death, education, marriage, career, children, and house – are made auspicious by invoking God. God is celebrated as much in villages as in towns or cities with fanfare at least once a year. There are widely participated book readings, prayer meetings, induction programs, introduction camps, community nights, and other such public events in God’s name across the nation. He cooks, cleans, clothes, decorates, gifts, swears by his God. Without saying it in so many words, the aam admi has, through actions, and in spirit said, “I, aam admi, take you All Mighty, to be my God, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward(without the ‘until death do us part’ bit). He has made God an integral part of his life. He feels responsibility towards his God in the same way his feels responsible for his parents, wife or kids. And that is the clue to the failure of democracy as a mode of governance in India.

India and Indian: A Relationship On Ice

Relationships of all kind derive their meaning and momentum from the involvement of the people who are part of it. A ceremony and living under the same roof do not a marriage make. A birthday gift and a PTA meeting do not a parent make. A miniature national flag bought on Independence Day and filing tax returns do not an Indian make. At least, that is definitely not what we mean when we say we love our spouse, our children or our country. We know relationships mean commitment, and demand continuous involvement. Yet involvement first demands interest; and interest arises only out of awareness. One cannot be interested in what one does not know. One can only fake it. Do we try to know our partner and children or do we expect a psychologist to come and do it for us? Is it possible to know our nation only by how our intellectuals and politicians interpret her? Or Is it possible to really become aware of the democratic institution that is our nation (and not politics as it has come to mean today) and the process of governance?

Ask yourself this: how were we as little kids introduced to formal education so that today we are where we are and know all that we know? You and I, as 3-year old toddlers, comfortable in our roles as princes and princesses of our homes, secure and pampered in our kingdoms, were not lectured on how important it is for our future, or how imperative a college degree is for a job. We got started with the curious shapes that we later started to recognize as things called alphabets which, with time, opened our eyes to bigger and bigger things. Somebody had thought of making the whole world accessible to the 3-year old. How do we make the India intellectually and emotionally accessible to ourselves?

If the people of our nation, irrespective of their class, creed, educational achievement, age or gender, have been imaginative enough to self-start and sustain a movement of continuous awareness, education, and participation in their God and His work, is it not possible to imagine a similar movement for the greater good and glory of our nation? Is it not possible to dedicate part of our time, effort and energy to introduce, educate, and inspire one another in the real process, purpose, and practice of democratic governance. Let us – men and women, young and old, housewives and businessmen, brokers and bankers, artists and teachers, doctors and lawyers, masons and managers – no longer be tourists in our own country. We are citizens of India – in all its legal and spiritual meaning. Let us act as one. Now.

All Love Is Action

Just like we volunteer to read, interpret and explain holy texts for the enlightenment of our brothers and sisters, let us volunteer to read, interpret and explain our constitution and its implications in our lives. Just like we take classes outside the conventional classrooms for our young children introducing them to their God, let us take time to teach them the meaning and guiding rules of politics – its real meaning and potential. Let us reach out to the senior citizens of our nation. Let them all – the retired lawyers, doctors, teachers, engineers, pilots, policemen, soldiers, farmers, technologists, technicians, trainers, bureaucrats, … – reach into their areas of expertise, interpret for us the national policies, projects, and plans relating to their field of work in the light of their experience, and help us understand our nation’s direction. Let us learn to know enough to support progress and prevent plunder.

In a democracy of 1.21 billion people, the fact that a privileged minority can hold the struggling majority at ransom is a warning bell, and the last call for action. Let us start getting informed. Let us start getting interested. Let us start getting involved. Let us volunteer to hold open house meetings, community nights, and introduction and induction programs into democracy. Let us not wait to be wronged to find out what our rights are. Let us not wait for someone else to tell us what we can expect from our nation.

There must be at least a dozen international treaties and peace agreements to stop a foreign country from invading our nation. There are economical, political and practical considerations that act as check-points against military aggression from outside. But there is barely any force in our country powerful enough or effective enough today to prevent the disease gnawing her from within. Our nation is sick because the majority, to which she rightfully belongs, has abandoned her. If India was your spouse, your lover or your child, this is the moment when she asks, “How do you say you love me when you don’t even bother to know me.” What would you answer?


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