Loneliness—a tad overrated, a tad underrated.

Loneliness, is one word I keep hearing on and off, especially from friends and peers. And, it doesn’t mean am in anyway exempt from experiencing the word in all its entirety at times. But, what’s funny is this: a generation that has access to an average of 30 smses a day and 10 cell phone calls and three active chat windows finds itself in the throes of loneliness every second day! Are we overrating our sense of loneliness, when we actually aren’t lonely; or are we missing something quintessential about real relationships and the role they play in loneliness?

A friend of mine once said that she and her husband are constantly on chat the whole day that in the evening there’s hardly anything to say to each other! Now, isn’t that bizarre? Chats have totally hijacked real conversations; leave alone the deplorable standards to which our spellings and grammar have sunk to. Getting back to the friend, I immediately told why should you guys be on chat the whole day through then? She just looked at me as if I were talking in an alien tongue! Yes, it’s unimaginable not to be on chat! But, then, doesn’t chat rob one of real conversations…don’t we miss an occasional smile, a grimace, a frown, an instant silencing, a blacking out, an adorable expression, etc…these, are the very things that make a conversation real and help make a relationship, especially when one is chatting with someone you haven’t met.

Sometimes, I think, would I be able to chat with my dad! Half the times the conversations begin with a shrug and end with a scowl; and believe me, I would have had the best conversation with my dad, which could never be possible on a chat! Of course, I do not deny the fact that chats have ridiculed the distances between Delhi and Chennai and New York! However, chats can never replace real communication and hence real relationships. So, if we think we are nuts to experience loneliness in the presence of so many friends on chat, we are really nuts! Since chats don’t mean anything, they cannot in anyway replace real feeling.

Next, I wonder if loneliness in itself is bad? Sometimes, loneliness teaches a lot of new things about our own selves. It also teaches us the value of relationships; the importance of bonding; the liveliness that another human being brings into one’s life; the value of friendships; and even how to work on friendships. Yes, one can learn a lot from loneliness as well; just don’t make the mistake of chatting just because you are ‘lonely,’ since chats are at the end of day, empty like loneliness itself. :-)

Missing you…

Your gentle caress on my skin
As the dirt of the day eases out
The clear mirror that you were
As I looked into you before
I began my games with you
Warm, hot, lukewarm, cold
All the same
You brought me joy
You eased my pain
When will you be back?
Why have you left me?
My hair cries out for you
As each cell within my skin sobs
Come back, waters of heaven
Come wash me clean…
I long for you…
Wash me clean…


Ps: Nobody’s allowed to laugh! Yes, I have been down and have been kept confined to my bed, and hence this longing for, well…

Don't, Yes, Don't, No

Don’t laugh, yes, don’t laugh
Not because it annoys me dry
But, cause it scares me
Each time your laughter chimes
In my ears
A million doors open
Doors, I have locked, never to open again
But, your laughter
Pries open my heart
Catches me unawares
Makes my eyes moist

Don’t talk, yes, don’t talk
Not because it bores me through
But, cause it opens my mind
Each time you talk
In my heart
A thousand rivulets start to flow
Dams, I had built, always to lock the flow
But, your words
That sound like poetry
Make me dream
As my lips curl into a silly smile

Don’t smile, no, don’t smile
Not because it disturbs me
But, cause it threatens to stay on me forever
As I walk
Your smile plays on my lips
Like a never ending song in my heart
A sweet song in my ears
As your smile becomes mine
Does mine become yours?
No, don’t laugh, don’t
Not because it annoys me dry…

Money, Money, Money!

In the last few weeks, one has been subjected to teasers and promotions of yet another reality show: Sach ka Saamna. It’s a program inspired by the very popular western show, The Moment of Truth. The promotion includes very provocative slogans like, can your truth tear asunder your marriage, your family! Can you face the truth!

Another popular reality show is the much publicized Rakhi Sawant ki Swayanvar, in which Rakhi Sawant (who needs no introduction) chooses her groom from a list of wannabes who go through multiple rounds of qualification, including a horoscope-matching round (or something similar with a Brahmin priest going through the palms of the guys and Rakhi).

Both these programs will undoubtedly have an enormous number of viewers and hence will prove to be great money spinners! And, that’s all that matters to the producers, to the actors, and everyone involved in this despicable attempt at entertainment!

Let’s look Sach Ka Saamna first. What does it promote? Or, what does it exploit? One word that comes to my mind is voyeurism. The perverted pleasure that a person experiences by being privy to the intimate lives of other people! So far, we have been told not to read other people’s letters, diaries, and ask ‘personal’ questions even to partners! And, here, you go before the whole world and talk about your ‘affairs,’ and also go through a lie detector for some money! Are the participants of this show so hard up on cash? Then, the viewers! What kind of mind will want to watch such crap? Or, have we all really lost touch with our real selves? Pornography is still banned, but Sach ka Saamna is aired on prime time! So, it’s all about money! More and more and more money! It’s really scary beyond point; where are we all headed at this rate?

Next, Rakhi Sawant ki Swayanvar. Here’s a young woman who wants to get married, and wants to make money in the process of her selecting her better half, after subjecting him through multiple rounds of tests! I have heard some flippant talk about this being feministic! It’s one of most ridiculous things I have heard in the recent past. Just because a woman comes on screen, shoots off her mouth, wears skimpy clothes, and declares her wish to go through a traditional, Hindu marriage, does it make her a feminist? Or, should it be considered as a victory for the woman’s movement? I really would like to hear what the women groups have to say about the Rita bahuguna’s anti-woman and anti-dalit statements! Coming back to Rakhi Sawant: one is subjected to the processes involved in a traditional Hindu marriage, which in itself is highly derogatory to women, preceded by equally despicable ways in which Rakhi chooses her groom! In one of the episodes, the wannabe groom’s are made to write and read their ‘love’ for Rakhi! And, Rakhi evaluates each one on the basis of how she feels about each of them! Now, I really don’t know why one should choose a TV program to talk about such things! All for money! In the face of money, everything ceases to remain sacred or even human! Only the following came to mind as a fitting end to this story.

The bourgeoisie has stripped of its halo every occupation hitherto honoured and looked up to with reverent awe. It has converted the physician, the lawyer, the priest, the poet, the man of science, into its paid wage labourers.
The bourgeoisie has torn away from the family its sentimental veil, and has reduced the family relation to a mere money relation.--- The Communist Manifesto

Keys

Between door hinges, atop the window panes
I have hidden the keys to my house
As you stand knocking, the same strange
Smell of blood wafts through the hinge
Shutting up my ears, running helter skelter
Groping in the dark, finding more darkness
Human-shaped shadows
Hope-shaped jokes
Yet another crash awaits my house
Yet another thunder bolt
Your knock grows louder, as the first cracks start to appear
I hear your receding foot steps
Yet again, the doors have broken
Yet again, I lock my door alone
Struggling to hide the keys
Where there are no more hinges or windows
Where there is no more a house
Only keys to remind the house of dreams

My fixation with old Tamil songs - 1

Sometimes, when am blue or in a vague, sad mood, I hum an old favorite, or these days, log on to the internet and download some of these old gems and hear them to my heart’s content. I wonder what it is about old tamil songs that makes them so divine to hear; is it the melody or the lyrics; or is it the mixing of the two in the singer’s ethereal voice that transports you into the depths of the universe, to its very beginning when nothing, but everything existed together…

One song that’s my favorite is poojaiku vanda malare vaa…from the lyrics, it’s a song between a newly married couple. Some lyrics, especially the woman’s can jar at a few places where she refers to her partner as God, but, somehow, the melody and the joyous concoction the song creates is just unbelievable. One interesting part is the woman refers to how beautiful her man is! Such a lovely conversation between them ensues, and the music or the melody seems just a mere detail or a language used to communicate something deeper, something beyond words!

Another favorite is partha niyabagm illaiya…yet another masterpiece! The casual challenge the woman throws at her long lost lover is just unbeatable! What a feministic assertion! Unimaginable in today’s Tamil cinema.

I can go on and on about my fixation or fondness for old Tamil songs. It’s almost like an ocean where one wants to just remain in perpetual drowning!

Listen to some of them here. http://www.oldtamilsong.net/p.srinevaas%201.html

Ps: Will talk of sad songs at some other time; they need a longer and a deeper piece. :)

Rains! At last!

For the past 2 weeks, I have been making a fetish about waking up early so that I get more time to do everything I want to in my life! But, as some friends will smirk and roll their eyes and testify, I haven’t been very successful, but let’s say I have been a bit successful; please folks, have a heart, I have woken up early! Anyway, this post isn’t about my tryst with early mornings, but about today! Today, I didn’t wake up early! And why? Read on…

Delhi’s been burning, literally! People have been most inhospitable; I have been told not to come to their houses because either they are only half clad or because they themselves are dying to get out of their houses because the walls are hot and emanating hot sulphur! A lot of people have been caught sitting in the cars and running their engines so that they have AC! So much for climate change and the global warming lobby being active in Delhi! So, how has been my state: the less said the better!

In such a state, the heavens decided to open last night! In the evening, there was some breeze and some dark clouds. And, we Delhities are a loony lot and to acknowledge even this marginal change in weather, we decided to snack looking at the heavens. Perhaps, someone up there (my atheist friends, don’t take note!) decided to quench our throats and opened the flood gates. So, in the morning, I don’t even remember a moment before 8 O’ Clock! I woke up with a phone call from a friend suggesting a get together in the evening! All Delhities are loonies, I tell you and all it takes is just a change in the weather, and bingo!

Even then, I wasn’t sure what the outside will look like, and I gingerly made my way to the balcony, and ho! What a sight! Yes, green leaves, bright clear sky, wet roads, water logging! How much we missed all these! Of course, that was reason to get dressed in jeans and t-shirt even on a weekday! Anyway, it was a great morning, thanks to the weather! And, I will pardon myself for oversleeping today! After all, the rain gods have played a prank!

Ps: Re-reading it, it seems narcissitic! Anyway, please pardon me! I promise to be less narcissitic next time round!

Two Rapes and a Bandh

During the fag end of last week, one was assaulted with twin rape stories, a gang rape of a girl and a rape of a domestic help by the house owner. What’s interesting, or rather revolting, is the way people/media/the police interpret rape and these cases. In the first case, the police say that the victim was in a ‘compromising’ position with her boyfriend. For once, the state viewed this statement from the police through a feministic lens and promptly transferred him! Well, one mustn’t forget the fact that this incident happened in Gujarat (whoa! Only the name sends shivers down one’s spine), where 1000s of Muslim women were not only raped, but also had steel rods and wooden planks inserted into them during the Gujarat 2002 riots! Before looking at the communal edge this rape victim has over the several other women raped in her state, we must try to see how rape is used as a tool by the patriarchal society to: 1. Perpetuate violence on ‘the other’ community, class, and gender 2. Subjugate woman by making her think that honor is all that MUST matter to her. 3. Make the woman herself responsible for the violence as well.

Rape, as a lot of movies, media, and books would have us believe, is not about sex. It’s about power. Several studies have been done and books written to ascertain this fact. It about the ultimate subjugation of the prey by the predator, where the predator uses all available mechanisms to acquire the prey. In a way speaking, if rape can be considered murder (of course, it’s an extrapolation), it’s a premediated, cold-blooded act. Therefore, it is a well devised tool to cause damage to ‘the other’s’ sense of dignity and humanity. This takes us to the next point: honor. Here comes our understanding of the origin of private property, which led to the commodification and ownership of women. In this scenario, the woman and her body are owned in toto by the nearest patriarchal figure: father, brother, husband, or son. So, any ‘harm’ done to the woman’s body (she doesn’t have a mind, you see!) directly affects the owner. And hence, the man is supposed to protect his woman with his life (in reality, by erasing any semblance of her real self). No wonder, the society developed institutions such as the purdah, sati, dowry, sindoor, and many other practices, basically to make a commodity or an inanimate object of a woman. She’s the most guarded, especially her sexuality, which if left unbridled or unchecked can cause the biggest shame to the family, even worse than her death. This idea will help us understand the honor killings that happen in most parts of the country even today. This brings us to the third point where we look at the codes or rules of behavior (unwritten, at least, today) for a woman. She (if she comes from a lower class that depends on the upper class for its sustenance) cannot afford to be alone in the presence of a man from another community or class (as happened in the Ahuja case) or be in a ‘compromising’ position with her lover (in the Surat case). In both cases, the woman invited it upon herself! And, this is not pronounced by some uneducated, fundamentalist fools (who we can ignore), but the guardians of the constitution! If this is what the police will say, what is point of a State? Or a law and order department? If women must take care themselves, which is, basically, shut themselves up in their homes, not study, learn household chores, have arranged, caste-, class-based married and of course get raped again (marital rape, I believe is still not recognized as rape) and be safe! Women needn’t be equal partners in nation building, in bringing the revolution, in making new discoveries, or (damn it!) in anything! Should all the women just disappear into thin air?

Now, the communal angle! In just hours after the incident, one of the right-wing parties in Surat called for a bandh! I mean what kind of an opportunism is this? The same state where 1000s of women were inhumanly raped, killed, and burnt, is calling for a bandh for the rape of one girl? How is this girl different from all the other victims? Is it because she's among the beautiful people of the society? The bourgeoisie or the uppercastes? Whereas, all the women ambushed in the riots were from ‘the other’ community or from working class backgrounds? After all, who is the society for? Can’t we have sanity even in the way we deal with crimes? Can’t we divorce ourselves from our hangups about class, caste, and gender at least while dealing with crime?

Sleepwalking

In the depth of my sleep, within my dark room
Within recesses of memory
A vision of uncertainty
Clouds my heart, awakening years
Of untold stories
Of wordless guilt
Of unconfessed pain
Of timeless, elusive search

Nuggets of Heaven

People talk of heaven as if it were some place far far away from this world. But, none of these people are in any hurry to leave the world, in any case!

I, for one, believe that the earth is a beautiful place to stay, and it has nuggets of heaven for everyone, but yes…some people tend to appropriate more..ok, ok, this no class-caste politics; it’s supposed to very light, happy reading.

So, here’s a list of nuggets of heaven I experience…

A dark, empty room with minimal streetlight streaming in; a cup of hot, herbal tea in hand, and a favorite tune playing. (at the end of the day)

The taste of little mulberry fruits straight from the tree, as you rush through the morning.

Fresh, dry, comfortable clothes after a bath in an open, dirty waterfall like Courtallam (a popular tourist spot in TN).

Watching hail, storm, and dust from a speeding bus.

Spotting fish in a clear river from a hill.

10 missed calls and 8 messages on your cell when you forgot to carry it.

More than 30 people at a protest to resist oppression.

Watching stars and the moon, lying flat on the earth.

Hugs and missed-yous when you return after a break.

To remember the words of an old song that brings alive old, romantic (;)) memories.

To lay your head on dad’s big, strong, and dark hand.

Have a heart-to-heart, bitching-cum-gossip session with girl friends.

Chatting with people, who are mirror images of course, with well, some kinks!

Listening to great minds that promise a revolution, fire your imagination, and make you dream.

Hand-me-down jeans and books.

Managing to hit your fund-raising targets for your collective.

Getting love bites from your cat and dog.

The smile on mom’s face as she smells the new, office-wear cotton sarees you got her.

Seeing new buds every day on your plant.

Hearing praises about your sibling.

Unplanned parties.

Liking a new song.

Getting drenched in rain and falling horribly sick.

Walking along a sea shore, just with your thoughts in deep communication with the sea (ok, am not mad, neither am I on that road!).

Getting lost in the web of music.

Sight of white, glistening snow on far-away peaks.

Continental breakfast in Dharamshala, facing green, blue hills.

Talking in local, colloquial, street Tamil after several months (which feels like centuries).

Making eye contact with the cook in a food van, and he heaping your plate a wee bit more!

When you spot guys like Shahrukh and Surya on rail crossings and traffic lights, respectively, and they spot you back! (Am not lying; it happened!)

Dried, forgotten tears

Dying strains of sound buried in a mire of silence
Sounds of despair, of hope, of undead love
An unquestioned birth into mirth
Silent, muted voices of dissent
Consumed in consumerist rusting of soul
Rotting of mind,
Unshed tears of wordless, numbing pain

Retreating within a cocoon of notes, blinded by darkness
Borrowed lines of expression
Of intimate pain, of sorrow, of loneliness in a desert
Parched, dry wells of living water
Bounded in boundaries of love and lust
Putrefying of soul,
Unspoken words of violence, stinging consent

(Ps: Written while listening to Bheegi Bheegi from the Hindi film, Gangster)