During N’s last visit to Bangalore, the final minutes of our conversation was around rights and wrongs. Zeros and ones. Black and white. At some point in our evolution, we created halves – half rights, grays. Who’s to say your gray is grayer than mine? It becomes subjective, contextual. For argument’s sake, we could say that rights and wrongs themselves are such. But each time we make that gray decision, we know, and we pretend not to notice that little voice.
Many years ago, as I sat eating an ice cream at the Cream & Fudge Factory in Koramangala (it no longer exists) an old man’s eyes met mine for a few seconds. He probably didn’t mean it, but as I took in his frayed but neat clothes, and his gaze that somehow conveyed that he couldn’t afford what I was having, I was suddenly struck by the unfairness of it all. These days, I wonder if I just imagined it all, and it was just my sub conscious conveying something to me. In any case, it’s like that subtext that once is known, is impossible to clear.
We have to live, and make a living, N said. He was kind, and gave me various ways to assuage my feelings of guilt. But every time I make a choice – across life’s various scenarios – an extravagant meal, a new pair of jeans, a movie – I know I’m watching myself, and judging. It is easy to allow myself things, but who’s to say where the allowance ends. How objective can I be about myself? Every time I ignore that little voice, I add to the imbalance, blur the lines in my own eyes. A life has to be lived after all.
until next time, live long and proper..