Category: Society & Culture

  • Causalities and Casualties

    Part 1

    For how are they made? By the inequality that surrounds. By their angst that accompanies our opulence. By the unfairness of it all. And when I look at my hands, I realize, I also have a hand in making them. I can’t condone, but I can’t incriminate either. There is blood on my hands too.

    Part 2

    Yes, I am desensitised. Because I exist in agonising helplessness when millions around the world die of poverty, lack of healthcare etc. Yes, it’s connected. And when those who prefer to be oblivious to this, wake up to a terrorist act and resurrect humanitarianism, just because it struck too close, I smell rot. My bad.

    Part 3

    I’m sorry. Sorry that it was your duty to become the nation’s cross-bearer. I’ll not join groups that’ll claim not to let your sacrifice go in vain. Sorry it will. We’ll get back to our lives. Sorry we’ll forget you in time. All I can do is pray, for you and those you left behind.

    until next time, topical compassion!!!!

  • Password…protected?

    I sometimes end up passively watching ‘Moment of Truth’ – passively because it plays in the background while I’m surfing on the web. In the beginning I used to have a healthy disrespect for not just those who indulged in spilling out details of their life (mostly of the skeletal variety found in cupboards) but those whose voyeuristic inclinations made them watch it intensely.

    But now, it has also made me wonder about the almost cyclical nature of transparency. Wasn’t there a state when everyone knew everything about everyone else? Or, rather, one protoplasmic entity with a single consciousness? And then it evolved slowly until everyone had secrets. And now we have people willing to reveal their secrets for money. Of course, it doesn’t take us back to the original level, but still…

    In a comparable context, sometime back, there was also an interesting discussion on twitter, on privacy issues on the web, and people getting to know passwords. Like i said there, I’d classify these password hunters into basically two types – one for whom your identity is just another information source – banking passwords, credit card details etc, this guy wouldn’t be interested in  say, your clandestine relationships; two would be the guy who knows you personally and would like to really like to find something personal about you via your virtual life.

    Do we fear the second kind more than the first kind? Because he will break the persona that we have built over the years, in front of others, show them what we are beneath the veneer, and more importantly force us to face ourselves? Isn’t that the reason we are so jittery about privacy. It can’t be just the fear that he might use our accounts for something bad. When I look at it objectively, personal accounts (mail, blogging, social networks etc) are just data- data that we might choose not to share, what we call personal data. But what exactly do we mean by personal? Isn’t it just something, that if told to someone else would shame us to some extent? Isn’t that what we are trying to protect? Or am I missing something? What really is privacy?

    I really wonder if these privacy issues will somehow (in the long run) force us to have characters that are more spotless, a sort of utopian existence, when people are so transparent to each other, that there will be no reason or room for secrets? I think it’s possible, you?

    until next time, translucent lives

  • Bom Bahia

    I recently read a book on Bombay by Pinki Virani, and have promptly classified it under my all time favourites list. The book, by sheer virtue of tone and content, appealed to me, but on a personal level, it gave me some answers on my quite recently acquired unfavourable stance on Mumbai. Since this is a subject of my chat ‘wars’ with many Mumbai friends, let me say that this is a very considered personal view, and based on subjective experiences. And like subjective experiences go, it may have led to creation or reinforcing of stereotypes that may have further colored my view of the city. So, don’t mind. 🙂

    I used to love Bombay. Right from the 2.5 days of train journey that took me there. The two months of stay there were enjoyed – Shivaji Park was a common destination across the years, the other location shifted from Anushakti Nagar (BARC Township) to Peddar Road to Malabar Hill. I still remember the second hand comics store in Anushakti nagar – Spiderman, Superman, Batman etc – the entities that captured my imagination in my school days, I have bought quite a few from there; the long walks around Shivaji Park, and the temple which gave away those white sugary balls 🙂 ; the hunt for fancy ‘name slip stickers’, which would adorn my school books and draw envious stares from my classmates in Cochin, who couldn’t get it there; the eagerly awaited trips to Akbarallys; the South indian hotel (Anand/Arya Bhavan) in Matunga whose waiters my sis later scandalised by asking for Maggi noodles, and finally, the ‘oh, its over’ feeling when we started the journey home, from VT.

    Yes, Bombay of those days remains a sweet memory. My last 2 month stay was in 1993, when it was still Bombay. Barring occasional 1-2 day trips, we stopped seeing each other since then, and somewhere down the line i started to cringe when I had to make official trips to the city. I dont know if its Mumbai that spoiled the affectionate awe that I had for Bombay, but maybe that’s just romanticism.

    Cities change, as do people. I am tolerant of pride, whether it be in people or cities, my irritation starts when pride turns to arrogance. Arrogance that brings with it an unhealthy disrespect for anything that’s not associated with the city. Yes, every city is special, but that does not mean it should take away from other cities… they are special in their own way. And that goes for people too.

    When a person like me, whose only associations with the city are from the holidays spent there, can feel a change, i can imagine, how, at least some Bombayites feel about the transformation their city has undergone. The author says a lot with just the title – ‘Once was Bombay’. I agree.

    until next time, just some city zen…. 🙂

  • Views

    …and we lament, ‘Oh, he has changed’, without pausing to consider the objectivity of the statement. We like people to stay whoever they have been so long, because it then means we don’t have to alter the patterns we have set for them, and when, in our view, they alter themselves even a wee bit, we frown, and even that small changes causes a butterfly effect on the set of patterns, however irrelevant they might be to the particular change.

    And that was what i discovered the last time I checked – ‘our view’. In many cases, it may not be the person that changes, but only our view of him. Our views, which change constantly as a result of all the experiences we keep having. Our views, which keep adding layer after layer, filter after filter,so that the tint that we see once may never be seen again.That perhaps is why the youth are not able to have a child like innocence in their perspectives, and the middle aged can never find their youthful exuberance in their views, and so on…

    And so, the next time, i say ‘You have changed’, I shall perhaps do a quick review of what really has changed.


    until next time, next change

  • Growth, or the lack of it….

    At every cross road, there are opportunities that have not been taken. There are choices that have been made, options that have been taken, the first with a steely resolve, and the second, with a sense of compromise. The first is more often than not, a happy tone that comes from knowing exactly what we want, and the second one is a tone of resignation, which comes from knowing somewhere deep inside that by giving up a little, much could have been gained, if only we could bring ourselves to do it, if only we could be sure…

    I’ve always wondered about why I have a problem with giving up a few comforts, a few perks, a few advantages in life, especially if it means I could have an opportunity to connect with what I was meant to do in this life. At first, i thought it could be because I wasn’t sure what exactly it was. But then, I was even giving up chances of finding out what it could be.

    I came across a new logic a while back. One thats rooted in my small town origins. Of course, its no longer a small town, its what they call a tier 2 city. 🙂 Growing up in a small town means that you’re always on ‘add to shopping cart’ mode in terms of aspirations. Growing up in an age when the cans of cola in the hands of videsi relatives evoked a sense of envy, didn’t help. While a lot of the shopping cart items were thrown out with age and what I hope is maturity, there are some deep seated ones which are difficult to get over. Which explains the constant striving for growth. And as each upgrade is done with, it becomes more difficult to give up what has been achieved after so much of work has gone into it. While it can be argued that the potential growth by letting go is much larger, or that the movement is only lateral, when you come in from what is relatively nowhere, it is difficult to imagine even risking going back there.

    until next time, hedging the bets