A New Year Is Upon Us

If space and time were interchangeable, we'd be constantly leaving worlds behind.

Our hearts are stout vessels, forged out of tissue stronger than tempered steel. How else can they remain undaunted in the face of savage change? How else can they desire transformation and simultaneously abhor it?

A new year is upon us, to lift us like leaves, like petals, like clouds. And to crush us like withering rocks under iron soles.

Do I take time and space by the scruff of their necks, force them to do my bidding and perish gloriously in a blinding white light? Do I sit in my balcony and watch the whims of the Universe turn beggars to kings and kings to beggars? Do I submit myself to the blessings and the onslaughts?

Am I a subject of this world or an object for another's taking? Or are these different ways to view the same reality? Or are these just lies!

Resolutions are for cowards. I will confront the new year, armed with nothing but belief. I will not wilt under the brutalities of  adult society. I will learn from the past but I shan't cling on to wisdom. I will retain the heart of a child.

I will look to my compass for guidance, for it errs not in this world of mirrors. I will draw lines in this grey battlefield of meanings, and I will have the courage not to cross strokes of peril. I will accept paradoxes instead of bartering goods.

In a way I never have before, just like I promise myself year after year, I will prevail.

"How can this be any different from what we have already seen?"
"It's a trick. They always change everything when you're looking away."

A New Year Is Upon Us

If space and time were interchangeable, we'd be constantly leaving worlds behind.

Our hearts are stout vessels, forged out of tissue stronger than tempered steel. How else can they remain undaunted in the face of savage change? How else can they desire transformation and simultaneously abhor it?

A new year is upon us, to lift us like leaves, like petals, like clouds. And to crush us like withering rocks under iron soles.

Do I take time and space by the scruff of their necks, force them to do my bidding and perish gloriously in a blinding white light? Do I sit in my balcony and watch the whims of the Universe turn beggars to kings and kings to beggars? Do I submit myself to the blessings and the onslaughts?

Am I a subject of this world or an object for another's taking? Or are these different ways to view the same reality? Or are these just lies!

Resolutions are for cowards. I will confront the new year, armed with nothing but belief. I will not wilt under the brutalities of  adult society. I will learn from the past but I shan't cling on to wisdom. I will retain the heart of a child.

I will look to my compass for guidance, for it errs not in this world of mirrors. I will draw lines in this grey battlefield of meanings, and I will have the courage not to cross strokes of peril. I will accept paradoxes instead of bartering goods.

In a way I never have before, just like I promise myself year after year, I will prevail.

"How can this be any different from what we have already seen?"
"It's a trick. They always change everything when you're looking away."

Rape: Patriarchy and Freedom

Girl was drunk. She booked herself a cab. She got into the cab and fell asleep. Some minutes after that, she was raped.

Who was to blame? Is Uber culpable? When there are rapes on buses, why aren't the bus-services banned? Are the laws strong enough? Was the girl right in getting drunk and falling asleep in the car? Am I even allowed to have that thought and remain a decent human being? Why did the cabbie rape her?

Let us suspend judgement, take a step back and think.

Background Story

There are coaches reserved for women in metro services and local trains. In the Delhi Metro, there are seats reserved for women, which are sometimes left empty even in jam-packed compartments. Sometimes, I hear women joke about how their "fragility" is being exaggerated. On the other hand, there are rapes in cars and buses.

Women around the country are still being oppressed: girls have curfews, they are being beaten, some are forced into marriage, out of education, into submission... On the other hand, women are being liberated at the highest level: companies have diversity targets, there are reservations for women, the gender ratio in many forward societies is skewed in their 'favour'.

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times?

Instability

A friend once asked me - "Must I hold the door open for her?"
Difficult problem. So I said, "Why don't you hold the door open for everybody?"
He did not relent - "Must I run around and open the door when she is getting into my car?"

When I meet a woman alone, on a date, do I take the cheque or do we split? Should I be upset if she doesn't offer to pay? Should I insist on paying if she wants to split the bill?

Given the number of rapes in the country, should women be asked to be more careful? At the cost of their freedom, I mean. Are men in society truly free? Will the bravest man not shiver while walking alone through a dark narrow alleyway?

Am I right in feeling disgusted when a young woman, bursting with energy, demands for her 'reserved seat' which an elderly man, drenched in sweat, now occupies?

Sometimes, when I see similar traits in men and women - like profligacy, recklessness and capriciousness - I often find myself guilty of terming the woman as free and courageous, and the man as immoral and shallow.

There is this girl with cascading, streaked hair. If she sneezes, there will be a dozen men rushing towards her with outstretched handkerchiefs. So, are there not women who can use this scenario purely to their advantage? Is it not a simple matter of leverage?

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times?

P versus F

The 'P' word: Partriarchy
It is not a bad thing; it is what used to protect people from rape and murder.

The 'F' word: Freedom
It is not a bad thing; it is what will protect you from rape and murder.

But what today? - We are trapped between the P and the F.

Like all great dichotomies, these coexist precariously and they supplement each other. In almost every situation, we choose one value over its supplement; this case is no different. We are open in thrashing the 'outdated system of patriarchy', which is seen increasingly as a system developed just to oppress women. We cry out for freedom, without understanding the responsibility which necessarily accompanies it.

And we ask for equality in a game where the playground is tilted.

What Can I Do?

(1) First and foremost: understand. We are not in an equilibrium. We live in a constantly evolving society, which has forgotten yesterday's values and is in the process of forgetting today's as well. Tomorrow has not yet arrived.

The last vestiges of patriarchy need to be appreciated in the sense in which they are intended. Obviously, when push comes to shove, people will resist. I am not advocating different degrees of freedom for the sexes. I am preaching logical restraint. If you know there is a thief hidden in the shadows, don't wear flashy jewellery. Yes, the thief may be brought to justice for a crime he may commit, but what is the point if it comes at the expense of your life?

Hold on to the 'P' until the era of the 'F' is here to stay.

(2) Chivalry isn't all that dead. If she is drunk and the hour is late, please drop her home. Split the bill if you want to, or make her pay. Dropping her home is not just a nice thing to do, it is necessary.

(3) Don't try to be the other sex. There are differences between men and women which need to be accepted - perhaps even glorified - and not compromised upon. We are perhaps not advanced enough to entirely embrace a man with a woman's mind or vice-versa.

(4) Push for stronger implementation: While I have previously championed the causes of restraint, awareness and protection, I am not advocating perpetuating status-quo. The era of Freedom and Social Security will come, and it is our duty to usher it in. Several laws which exist, hang on so poorly that they might as well be absent.

We need to voice our displeasure. Is Uber to be blamed for the recent crime? I don't know, but our Law and Order System has been an abysmal failure.

(5) Awareness: Yes, several men need to be taught to respect women. Objectification is here to stay (we will soon equally objectify both men and women), but it can be done respectfully, I am told. We need to gradually inch towards that F-era. Society doesn't respond well to shock-loading.

There are going to be several more rapes before things finally fall into place. Each rape brings us closer to the justice that we long for. This is unpleasant, like most other things which are real.

Frankly, I only wish for a world with safe cars, an even sex-ratio and trains without reserved-seats. And I hope I live to see the day.

Rape: Patriarchy and Freedom

Girl was drunk. She booked herself a cab. She got into the cab and fell asleep. Some minutes after that, she was raped.

Who was to blame? Is Uber culpable? When there are rapes on buses, why aren't the bus-services banned? Are the laws strong enough? Was the girl right in getting drunk and falling asleep in the car? Am I even allowed to have that thought and remain a decent human being? Why did the cabbie rape her?

Let us suspend judgement, take a step back and think.

Background Story

There are coaches reserved for women in metro services and local trains. In the Delhi Metro, there are seats reserved for women, which are sometimes left empty even in jam-packed compartments. Sometimes, I hear women joke about how their "fragility" is being exaggerated. On the other hand, there are rapes in cars and buses.

Women around the country are still being oppressed: girls have curfews, they are being beaten, some are forced into marriage, out of education, into submission... On the other hand, women are being liberated at the highest level: companies have diversity targets, there are reservations for women, the gender ratio in many forward societies is skewed in their 'favour'.

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times?

Instability

A friend once asked me - "Must I hold the door open for her?"
Difficult problem. So I said, "Why don't you hold the door open for everybody?"
He did not relent - "Must I run around and open the door when she is getting into my car?"

When I meet a woman alone, on a date, do I take the cheque or do we split? Should I be upset if she doesn't offer to pay? Should I insist on paying if she wants to split the bill?

Given the number of rapes in the country, should women be asked to be more careful? At the cost of their freedom, I mean. Are men in society truly free? Will the bravest man not shiver while walking alone through a dark narrow alleyway?

Am I right in feeling disgusted when a young woman, bursting with energy, demands for her 'reserved seat' which an elderly man, drenched in sweat, now occupies?

Sometimes, when I see similar traits in men and women - like profligacy, recklessness and capriciousness - I often find myself guilty of terming the woman as free and courageous, and the man as immoral and shallow.

There is this girl with cascading, streaked hair. If she sneezes, there will be a dozen men rushing towards her with outstretched handkerchiefs. So, are there not women who can use this scenario purely to their advantage? Is it not a simple matter of leverage?

It is the best of times, it is the worst of times?

P versus F

The 'P' word: Partriarchy
It is not a bad thing; it is what used to protect people from rape and murder.

The 'F' word: Freedom
It is not a bad thing; it is what will protect you from rape and murder.

But what today? - We are trapped between the P and the F.

Like all great dichotomies, these coexist precariously and they supplement each other. In almost every situation, we choose one value over its supplement; this case is no different. We are open in thrashing the 'outdated system of patriarchy', which is seen increasingly as a system developed just to oppress women. We cry out for freedom, without understanding the responsibility which necessarily accompanies it.

And we ask for equality in a game where the playground is tilted.

What Can I Do?

(1) First and foremost: understand. We are not in an equilibrium. We live in a constantly evolving society, which has forgotten yesterday's values and is in the process of forgetting today's as well. Tomorrow has not yet arrived.

The last vestiges of patriarchy need to be appreciated in the sense in which they are intended. Obviously, when push comes to shove, people will resist. I am not advocating different degrees of freedom for the sexes. I am preaching logical restraint. If you know there is a thief hidden in the shadows, don't wear flashy jewellery. Yes, the thief may be brought to justice for a crime he may commit, but what is the point if it comes at the expense of your life?

Hold on to the 'P' until the era of the 'F' is here to stay.

(2) Chivalry isn't all that dead. If she is drunk and the hour is late, please drop her home. Split the bill if you want to, or make her pay. Dropping her home is not just a nice thing to do, it is necessary.

(3) Don't try to be the other sex. There are differences between men and women which need to be accepted - perhaps even glorified - and not compromised upon. We are perhaps not advanced enough to entirely embrace a man with a woman's mind or vice-versa.

(4) Push for stronger implementation: While I have previously championed the causes of restraint, awareness and protection, I am not advocating perpetuating status-quo. The era of Freedom and Social Security will come, and it is our duty to usher it in. Several laws which exist, hang on so poorly that they might as well be absent.

We need to voice our displeasure. Is Uber to be blamed for the recent crime? I don't know, but our Law and Order System has been an abysmal failure.

(5) Awareness: Yes, several men need to be taught to respect women. Objectification is here to stay (we will soon equally objectify both men and women), but it can be done respectfully, I am told. We need to gradually inch towards that F-era. Society doesn't respond well to shock-loading.

There are going to be several more rapes before things finally fall into place. Each rape brings us closer to the justice that we long for. This is unpleasant, like most other things which are real.

Frankly, I only wish for a world with safe cars, an even sex-ratio and trains without reserved-seats. And I hope I live to see the day.

At a Wedding

1: The food here is so great. Is this all you people do at weddings - eat? Our guests have more elaborate duties.

2: Having never given it a thought, I cannot answer that question. But what else can you do at a wedding? Try the gaajar halwa.

1: Mm, I wonder if it tastes as good as it looks. But how can you not know about weddings?

2: Haven't been to any. The gulaab jamuns are nice too, if you have it with vanilla icecream. It is like winter outside, winter inside.

1: Desserts are all in queue. They will all get their turn to mingle with the juices in my stomach.

2: Yes, yes. You must try them all. This is why weddings are great!

1: You're seriously telling me that there is nothing else here? Where is the fire, the saat phere and all that?

2: I've seen those only in movies.

1: It does make sense for you to know. You will be put on the spot soon enough.

2: Oh no. But my younger brother will get married. I suppose I'll see then.

1: Eh, your younger brother before you? That's progressive.

2: Actually I'm not getting married.

1: And your parents don't hyperventilate? Have they not yet disowned you for opting out of the gene-propagation scam?

2: I told them that I don't want to do it. My brother has a steady girlfriend.

1: But don't you think you'll feel alone? There are times when you want to trust someone more than the rest of the world.

2: Think of what you lose by trying to gain that trust. Freedom. If I want to quit my job now, I will resign tomorrow. Once I'm married, I'm bound.

1: Have you quit spontaneously before?

2: No. But I want the option.

1: You will sacrifice the promise of eternity for this low freedom?

2: I think it is a fair trade. Yes.

1: I know that eternity is a sham, as is a promise. But they are comforting words; they have nourished generations.

2: But if the present is comfortable, why get out of it?

1: We substitute one deep connection with myriad fleeting ones. It's a temporary solution for a permanent problem, like cello-tape to fix your glasses.

2: Some people keep the temporary solutions going. If you try hard enough, temporary solutions become permanent. But I don't require these connections.

1: Deep or shallow?

2: Deep or shallow.

1: You can stay away from humanity and still be in peace?

2: I must stay away from humanity to be in peace. Why do you think I lock my door?

1: You have lucky wiring. But you are giving up on the one thing which will allow us to cheat ourselves.

2: Ah, you mean - a reason to continue existing?

1: Raison d'être, yes.

2: But there is no reason.

1: Are you comfortable with that truth?

2: Truths needn't be comfortable.

1: So you can exist without the grand charade?

2: Hard days may come.

1: When you are forty, without a wife or children, when you decide to quit your job, what will urge you to continue living?

2: I am convinced that I will reach the same state after marriage too.

1: But you have others to live for. That is the only thing that we will believe, in all our conceit.

2: Must a question of the future be answered by altering the present?

1: So you will consider it then?

2: Maybe. You want to try the rasmalai?

At a Wedding

1: The food here is so great. Is this all you people do at weddings - eat? Our guests have more elaborate duties.

2: Having never given it a thought, I cannot answer that question. But what else can you do at a wedding? Try the gaajar halwa.

1: Mm, I wonder if it tastes as good as it looks. But how can you not know about weddings?

2: Haven't been to any. The gulaab jamuns are nice too, if you have it with vanilla icecream. It is like winter outside, winter inside.

1: Desserts are all in queue. They will all get their turn to mingle with the juices in my stomach.

2: Yes, yes. You must try them all. This is why weddings are great!

1: You're seriously telling me that there is nothing else here? Where is the fire, the saat phere and all that?

2: I've seen those only in movies.

1: It does make sense for you to know. You will be put on the spot soon enough.

2: Oh no. But my younger brother will get married. I suppose I'll see then.

1: Eh, your younger brother before you? That's progressive.

2: Actually I'm not getting married.

1: And your parents don't hyperventilate? Have they not yet disowned you for opting out of the gene-propagation scam?

2: I told them that I don't want to do it. My brother has a steady girlfriend.

1: But don't you think you'll feel alone? There are times when you want to trust someone more than the rest of the world.

2: Think of what you lose by trying to gain that trust. Freedom. If I want to quit my job now, I will resign tomorrow. Once I'm married, I'm bound.

1: Have you quit spontaneously before?

2: No. But I want the option.

1: You will sacrifice the promise of eternity for this low freedom?

2: I think it is a fair trade. Yes.

1: I know that eternity is a sham, as is a promise. But they are comforting words; they have nourished generations.

2: But if the present is comfortable, why get out of it?

1: We substitute one deep connection with myriad fleeting ones. It's a temporary solution for a permanent problem, like cello-tape to fix your glasses.

2: Some people keep the temporary solutions going. If you try hard enough, temporary solutions become permanent. But I don't require these connections.

1: Deep or shallow?

2: Deep or shallow.

1: You can stay away from humanity and still be in peace?

2: I must stay away from humanity to be in peace. Why do you think I lock my door?

1: You have lucky wiring. But you are giving up on the one thing which will allow us to cheat ourselves.

2: Ah, you mean - a reason to continue existing?

1: Raison d'être, yes.

2: But there is no reason.

1: Are you comfortable with that truth?

2: Truths needn't be comfortable.

1: So you can exist without the grand charade?

2: Hard days may come.

1: When you are forty, without a wife or children, when you decide to quit your job, what will urge you to continue living?

2: I am convinced that I will reach the same state after marriage too.

1: But you have others to live for. That is the only thing that we will believe, in all our conceit.

2: Must a question of the future be answered by altering the present?

1: So you will consider it then?

2: Maybe. You want to try the rasmalai?

Up The Mountain With Friends

A gurgling river, sparkling like silver, rushes underneath the bridge. The mountain is lush and green, and a path has been cut through it, extending into heaven and perhaps beyond. The same road, a few hours into the future, can be seen in the distance, wrapping itself around the mountain in a fond embrace.

Seven children stand at the beginning of the road, with heavy bags on their shoulders and warm cloaks over their bodies. One lad, who has been this way before, stands in front of the rest and talks of the adventures which lie ahead of them. A few chocolates come out of a hidden pocket, and he offers these to the rest. Only the girl with curly black hair refuses to accept the treat. Another girl promises to eat her chocolate soon; the others swallow theirs eagerly.

They begin their trip, with smiles in their eyes and songs on their lips - songs set to the beat of their hearts. The climb is steep and soon their tongues are dry. The two lads who trail the group are filled with doubt. What lies ahead? Exactly how much adventure can we have, so that it can be termed an adequate amount?

One of these lads, bespectacled and slim, trails the group with a book in hand. He carries it as a jewel, afraid of losing it, and within it, his thoughts. The curly-haired girl and a boy with a cap too large for his head walk in front of him. The boy plods through the path, stumbling across small streams and rocks, shouting out to the people who walk ahead of him. He is in the mood for an adventure, and he is letting everyone know.

Suddenly he sees an elf. The elf crawls over the rocks, and jumps across streams - which appear to him as almighty rivers. This amuses the children, who stop to catch a glimpse of the violet mountains. The sun is overhead, throwing its golden rays at large blue butterflies. Blue wings flutter vigorously in the cool misty air, and carry their dainty bodies easily across the rocks.

The mountain now looks like a game: it resembles a puzzle, but no one quite knows what the puzzle is about.

"This is a land where people only walk up the hill, and no one goes back," cries the lad with the oversized cap.
"It is so beautiful!" says the elf from atop a high rock.

The girl who promised to take her chocolate soon looks pensive; perhaps she feels left out? She stares into the kaleidoscopic abyss. The tall lad, wrapped in an earthy shawl, stands away from the rest of the group, seeking silence in the mountain's intrinsic sounds. The boy wearing glasses scribbles furiously in his notebook, but he doesn't know what he writes.

They walk along the edge of the mountain, but the children are not afraid. It is because they don't look down. They don't fear that which may not exist. At every turn, a path opens up in front of them. They rush eagerly to the edge of the mountain, and just when they are about to reach the corner, the path bends and escapes their clutches. The mountain changes hue and voice - first it is violet, then orange, suddenly blue and finally red.

The air thins. The leader of the group stops to rest. He seems to know the path well. He stares animatedly at the most inane objects. There is so much to see! Everything is vivid, vibrant and tangible. Even the air appears in a cool blue tinge. But when they stop to meditate upon what they see, the children realize that they do not see anything in particular.

By focussing upon any one object in their fields of vision, they lose sight of everything else, and therefore lose the moment.

"The moment is part of the picture," cry one of the boys. "You cannot take a picture of this even a moment from now. It has to be now. Or it never will be."

This puts everybody in a deeply contemplative mood. A few faces look sad. The boy who trails continues to write: "What am I if I cannot document?" he writes. He realizes that his scribbling disturbs him, but he cannot help himself. He is trapped by his own enterprise.

The air is thin now, and shrubs gave way to grey stone. The mountain has turned hostile. "We must not rest now; it will soon be dark!" says the leader.

"Do not cease to climb until the slope levels," says one of the girls.
"If I climb this hill alone and no one sees me climb, do I really climb it? What proof do I have that I have climbed it?"

The children are going mad. It is becoming cold; the sun fades in the west behind grey hills which are tinged with orange. The climb is nearly over, or so they have been told.

"There is a hot spring at the end of all this," says the boy in the shawl to the elf.
"Is there really?"

Kiss of Love. Or Sex on the Beach.

I was invited to the Kiss of Love protest in the JNU campus the other day. I was considering the point of attending such an event of protest; protests have become a weekend-feature in Delhi. They are happening places, much like night-clubs, and they help society almost as much as these establishments.

Acts of revolt often serve only as means to belittle their own purpose. What should be a fundamental right, in my opinion, is being reduced to an unpleasant page-three article.

A few days ago, I was at a concert in HRC, appropriately inebriated and captivated by the drums. The Universe flowed around me. As the lights changed and danced in front of my eyes, the only thing blocking a clear view of the drummer was the silhouette of a couple kissing furiously just in front of stage. At that moment, it seemed the most natural thing - two people lost in each other amidst the vulgarity which surrounded them.

Kissing is Indian

Two days hence, there are people locking lips for the cameras, in an apparent act of protest, and simultaneously issuing statements such as - "It has been shown in the Kama Sutra, and it is there in Khajuraho." All of a sudden, the debate changes from the Right to Freedom of Expression to whether or not kissing was invented by Indians. Some western university adds ghee to the flames by suggesting that kissing is first depicted in Indian scriptures.

But how does that even matter? If it wasn't present in the Vedas, should we consider it wrong? Why define the future based on our opinions of the past? If Vatsyayana was a pioneer in recording acts of love and passion, will it justify an act of pornography? Or on the other hand, if kissing was first practiced in the West, will it make the act shameful?

This entire charade of "turn up and kiss" has done more damage than good, mainly because people aren't sure why they are protesting. Since we're now dabbling with the issue of "natural" freedoms, which we as humans think we ought to enjoy (irrespective of where this freedom was first invented), let me ask you a question.

I asked a friend, who prides his rationale, the same thing: "What would you do if you caught a couple completely naked, having sex on a park bench?"

Boundary Lines

As a response to this question, he rolled his eyes, wrinkled his nose and threw up his shoulders in protest. You think perhaps, as he did too, that I am an RSS/VHP sympathizer, who wants to create a ridiculous scenario and reduce the argument to absurdity. But there is a point to this, I promise.

The responses I have got to this question vary from "That'd be horrible! There are laws against public nudity and public obscenity" to "Just because we allow kissing doesn't mean we want to allow sex in public". But why? Why are we thinking at such conservative margins? Are we not convinced ourselves?

People have told me that public nudity, especially that associated with sexuality, would be a hindrance for them. They say that they wouldn't want their children to be exposed to such scenes until they are "grown-up enough". Legalizing public nudity and acts of sex would cause them mental trauma. And let me tell you that these are same people who are vocal about their support for the "Kiss of Love" movement.

Well, how do they differ from the RSS and the VHP? You stand a foot ahead of those saffron banners and denounce those behind you? Well, perhaps the Indian Right Wing is correct in saying that this is the influence of the West, not because we are trying to emulate them, but because we are limiting ourselves to what they have achieved.

We think kissing is alright because we see it in movies. We see big posters of Ranbir Singh and Deepika Padukone kissing on Mumbai streets. But sex and nudity is not yet acceptable. In fact, the West has a number of bodies fighting the exact same battle: acceptance of nudity and public displays of "higher" affection. In the meanwhile, we are fighting a trivial battle, shooting ourselves copiously in the feet.

They clothed us. Let them disrobe us.

Abbe Dubois's book "Hindu manners, customs and ceremonies", translated from French and edited by Henry Beauchamp stated that "Even the private parts of the children have their own particular decorations. Little girls wear a gold or silver shield or codpiece on which is graven some indecent picture ; while a boy's ornament, also of gold or silver, is an exact copy of that member which it is meant to decorate."

Araimudi, used by girls in Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka, even until 1950

"Description of the character, manners, and customs of the people of India; and their institutions, religious and civil", also written by Dubois said "The children of either sex are likewise ornamented with various trinkets of the same form, though smaller than those of grown persons. They have also some that are peculiar. As all children in India go perfectly naked till they are six or seven years old, the parents of course, adapt the ornaments to the natural parts of the body. Thus, the girls have a plate of metal suspended so as to conceal, in some measure, their nakedness. The boys, on the other hand, have little bells hung round them, or some similar device of silver or gold, attached to the little belt with which they are girt. Amongst the rest, a particular trinket appears in front, bearing a resemblance to the sexual part of the lad." (Wikipedia)

I spoke about not looking to history to determine our future, but I am merely bringing this as a point to show the possible limitations of modern acceptance. When the British began to "reform" the people they governed, the logic of the age suggested that people should be clothed for decency. By linking clothes to the concepts of hygiene, it became an irrefutable scientific law.

And today, while they have the freedom to stand nude in their beaches, we are incarcerated by our own clothes. Perhaps we aren't evolving enough. But how will we, if we limit ourselves by the achievements of other men?

Kiss of Love. Or Sex on the Beach.

I was invited to the Kiss of Love protest in the JNU campus the other day. I was considering the point of attending such an event of protest; protests have become a weekend-feature in Delhi. They are happening places, much like night-clubs, and they help society almost as much as these establishments.

Acts of revolt often serve only as means to belittle their own purpose. What should be a fundamental right, in my opinion, is being reduced to an unpleasant page-three article.

A few days ago, I was at a concert in HRC, appropriately inebriated and captivated by the drums. The Universe flowed around me. As the lights changed and danced in front of my eyes, the only thing blocking a clear view of the drummer was the silhouette of a couple kissing furiously just in front of stage. At that moment, it seemed the most natural thing - two people lost in each other amidst the vulgarity which surrounded them.

Kissing is Indian

Two days hence, there are people locking lips for the cameras, in an apparent act of protest, and simultaneously issuing statements such as - "It has been shown in the Kama Sutra, and it is there in Khajuraho." All of a sudden, the debate changes from the Right to Freedom of Expression to whether or not kissing was invented by Indians. Some western university adds ghee to the flames by suggesting that kissing is first depicted in Indian scriptures.

But how does that even matter? If it wasn't present in the Vedas, should we consider it wrong? Why define the future based on our opinions of the past? If Vatsyayana was a pioneer in recording acts of love and passion, will it justify an act of pornography? Or on the other hand, if kissing was first practiced in the West, will it make the act shameful?

This entire charade of "turn up and kiss" has done more damage than good, mainly because people aren't sure why they are protesting. Since we're now dabbling with the issue of "natural" freedoms, which we as humans think we ought to enjoy (irrespective of where this freedom was first invented), let me ask you a question.

I asked a friend, who prides his rationale, the same thing: "What would you do if you caught a couple completely naked, having sex on a park bench?"

Boundary Lines

As a response to this question, he rolled his eyes, wrinkled his nose and threw up his shoulders in protest. You think perhaps, as he did too, that I am an RSS/VHP sympathizer, who wants to create a ridiculous scenario and reduce the argument to absurdity. But there is a point to this, I promise.

The responses I have got to this question vary from "That'd be horrible! There are laws against public nudity and public obscenity" to "Just because we allow kissing doesn't mean we want to allow sex in public". But why? Why are we thinking at such conservative margins? Are we not convinced ourselves?

People have told me that public nudity, especially that associated with sexuality, would be a hindrance for them. They say that they wouldn't want their children to be exposed to such scenes until they are "grown-up enough". Legalizing public nudity and acts of sex would cause them mental trauma. And let me tell you that these are same people who are vocal about their support for the "Kiss of Love" movement.

Well, how do they differ from the RSS and the VHP? You stand a foot ahead of those saffron banners and denounce those behind you? Well, perhaps the Indian Right Wing is correct in saying that this is the influence of the West, not because we are trying to emulate them, but because we are limiting ourselves to what they have achieved.

We think kissing is alright because we see it in movies. We see big posters of Ranbir Singh and Deepika Padukone kissing on Mumbai streets. But sex and nudity is not yet acceptable. In fact, the West has a number of bodies fighting the exact same battle: acceptance of nudity and public displays of "higher" affection. In the meanwhile, we are fighting a trivial battle, shooting ourselves copiously in the feet.

They clothed us. Let them disrobe us.

Abbe Dubois's book "Hindu manners, customs and ceremonies", translated from French and edited by Henry Beauchamp stated that "Even the private parts of the children have their own particular decorations. Little girls wear a gold or silver shield or codpiece on which is graven some indecent picture ; while a boy's ornament, also of gold or silver, is an exact copy of that member which it is meant to decorate."

Araimudi, used by girls in Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka, even until 1950

"Description of the character, manners, and customs of the people of India; and their institutions, religious and civil", also written by Dubois said "The children of either sex are likewise ornamented with various trinkets of the same form, though smaller than those of grown persons. They have also some that are peculiar. As all children in India go perfectly naked till they are six or seven years old, the parents of course, adapt the ornaments to the natural parts of the body. Thus, the girls have a plate of metal suspended so as to conceal, in some measure, their nakedness. The boys, on the other hand, have little bells hung round them, or some similar device of silver or gold, attached to the little belt with which they are girt. Amongst the rest, a particular trinket appears in front, bearing a resemblance to the sexual part of the lad." (Wikipedia)

I spoke about not looking to history to determine our future, but I am merely bringing this as a point to show the possible limitations of modern acceptance. When the British began to "reform" the people they governed, the logic of the age suggested that people should be clothed for decency. By linking clothes to the concepts of hygiene, it became an irrefutable scientific law.

And today, while they have the freedom to stand nude in their beaches, we are incarcerated by our own clothes. Perhaps we aren't evolving enough. But how will we, if we limit ourselves by the achievements of other men?

Sweet Sickness, Pure Genius

“The voice sings: Some of these days, you’ll miss me honey.

Somebody must have scratched the record at that spot because it makes a peculiar noise. And there is something that wrings the heart: it is that the melody is absolutely untouched by this little stuttering of the needle in the record. It is so far away - so far behind. I understand that too: the record is getting scratched and worn, the singer may be dead; I am myself going to leave, I am going to catch my train. But behind the existence which falls from one present to the next, without a past, without a future, behind these sounds which decompose from day to day, peels away and slips into death, the melody stays the same, young and firm, like a pitiless witness.

— "Nausea", Jean-Paul Sartre

The back-cover of this book has the words "A young man's tour de force" written in bold black font, in a grey background, almost vain and gaudy, saved only by the fact that it is in black and not in gold. It is an understatement.

Sartre's work leaves me with a clear idea of the void that we live in - a world with spaces and objects, and nothing. We try to fill it will meaning, we try to find connections, we try pursuing grand themes, we love, hate, cry, laugh and shout. Nausea is about Antoine Roquetin - a man who could be you or me - who feels helpless about his existence. He realizes he must go on, and as he plunges into the depths of these thoughts, he associates meanings and feelings with his interactions with objects.

There were moments when I loathed the work and wished it wasn't written, because it was true. But such a magical description of youth and existence in this world must be real. It must be tangible. Like the objects of Roquetin's nausea.

If this book doesn't make you feel miserable, then you are impervious and your delusion is complete. It is a roller-coaster going down, down, down...

Layers

Three deadlines. Another five hours. And that's my third cup of coffee. It's only eleven am. Lunch soon. The formulas are in there, I'm copying everything. Templates, bloody templates.

But once I get done with these, the review can come... It's worrying, but it's okay. Everybody does it. I'm better? Okay, maybe I'm not better... but I'm not worse. How can anything go badly. You will go badly!

No, I mustn't worry about that now. Deadlines. Focus on Now. I need music. And coffee. The machine is far away, and I'll have to pass by her table again. I've avoided her for a week now. Plan to keep it that way. I'm not going there. For now, music.

Louder, please. I need to hear the bass. Why does everyone want formatting? Why can't they format their own goddamn faces? Okay, I'll do it... but just this time. Idiots, all of them. Louder, dammit. Earphones are useless, might as well throw them away.

So many Sales going on... I'm sure I'll get better stuff cheap. My Q4 targets will be in-line with expectations? All I can think about is work! I should just go to the hills. Cut out this nonsense. Am I made for this? Who am I kidding, no one is made for this. No one is made for anything.

Oh, those chords. Reminds me of Murakami. Or maybe the cat-man talks about this song. Who knows, who cares. He writes very lyrically. That value looks so wrong. Where did all my Math go? Where have you gone, Math? I used to be good at you.

What the hell am I doing with my life? Actually, it's not so bad... Nice people, fun places. Penchant for the dramatic. Everyone wants to be a dramatic retard. Even when things are simple, make them hard. Especially when things are simple.

Like that woman from last evening. Only idiots break up with people they love and crib about everything. They think they're being noble. And they can't stop complaining! That too, to strangers. First date, dammit. And she throws the whole thing at me. I no longer understand this.

What is there to understand? Everything just is. Nothing has meaning. That looks acceptable; that value. Let me get a graph out of you.

Why is everyone walking around me? Am I the only one working? I need to go outside and catch some fresh air. Or maybe some unhealthy air from the tip of a cigarette. No, probably not. I'll end up going with somebody I don't like. And I need to get done with this anyway.

Oh, what the hell - I'm going. Locked the screen. Walk. Why can't I walk faster? Do I look like my reflection when I walk? My reflection walks stupidly. What am I complaining about? - It's a fine day. Look at that crowd - everybody wants chai. They'll all be poisoned by it.

I'll join them. Hot chai, on a hot day. I'm an idiot. I'm as irrational as all these people. Look at them - smiling without reason. They have no idea what's going to hit them. Ha, I want to be there. I want to watch. Maybe it will hit me too.

But I like that tie. And that girl over there. So many pointless actions. So many pointless people. So much beauty. What a fine day. Such infernal noise: horns, blaring horns! It's nice, coming to think of it. Like a symphony.

This is entertaining. If all this doesn't happen, something else will. And I will be entertained.

Layers

Three deadlines. Another five hours. And that's my third cup of coffee. It's only eleven am. Lunch soon. The formulas are in there, I'm copying everything. Templates, bloody templates.

But once I get done with these, the review can come... It's worrying, but it's okay. Everybody does it. I'm better? Okay, maybe I'm not better... but I'm not worse. How can anything go badly. You will go badly!

No, I mustn't worry about that now. Deadlines. Focus on Now. I need music. And coffee. The machine is far away, and I'll have to pass by her table again. I've avoided her for a week now. Plan to keep it that way. I'm not going there. For now, music.

Louder, please. I need to hear the bass. Why does everyone want formatting? Why can't they format their own goddamn faces? Okay, I'll do it... but just this time. Idiots, all of them. Louder, dammit. Earphones are useless, might as well throw them away.

So many Sales going on... I'm sure I'll get better stuff cheap. My Q4 targets will be in-line with expectations? All I can think about is work! I should just go to the hills. Cut out this nonsense. Am I made for this? Who am I kidding, no one is made for this. No one is made for anything.

Oh, those chords. Reminds me of Murakami. Or maybe the cat-man talks about this song. Who knows, who cares. He writes very lyrically. That value looks so wrong. Where did all my Math go? Where have you gone, Math? I used to be good at you.

What the hell am I doing with my life? Actually, it's not so bad... Nice people, fun places. Penchant for the dramatic. Everyone wants to be a dramatic retard. Even when things are simple, make them hard. Especially when things are simple.

Like that woman from last evening. Only idiots break up with people they love and crib about everything. They think they're being noble. And they can't stop complaining! That too, to strangers. First date, dammit. And she throws the whole thing at me. I no longer understand this.

What is there to understand? Everything just is. Nothing has meaning. That looks acceptable; that value. Let me get a graph out of you.

Why is everyone walking around me? Am I the only one working? I need to go outside and catch some fresh air. Or maybe some unhealthy air from the tip of a cigarette. No, probably not. I'll end up going with somebody I don't like. And I need to get done with this anyway.

Oh, what the hell - I'm going. Locked the screen. Walk. Why can't I walk faster? Do I look like my reflection when I walk? My reflection walks stupidly. What am I complaining about? - It's a fine day. Look at that crowd - everybody wants chai. They'll all be poisoned by it.

I'll join them. Hot chai, on a hot day. I'm an idiot. I'm as irrational as all these people. Look at them - smiling without reason. They have no idea what's going to hit them. Ha, I want to be there. I want to watch. Maybe it will hit me too.

But I like that tie. And that girl over there. So many pointless actions. So many pointless people. So much beauty. What a fine day. Such infernal noise: horns, blaring horns! It's nice, coming to think of it. Like a symphony.

This is entertaining. If all this doesn't happen, something else will. And I will be entertained.

Book Review: Love Lasts Forever

A week or two ago, a friend surreptitiously slipped a green paperback into my bag while I was busy stirring my coffee. When he caught my eye, he not only confessed to this act, but also made me promise that I’d review the book as soon as I’d get the time. Such promises always have strange modus operandi: you are caught in the middle of one even before you know what the promise entails.

The title of the book shocked me further: “Love Lasts Forever”. This book, written by Vikrant Khanna, a Delhi-based author gallivanting around the globe as a merchant-navy officer, and published by Srishti Publications, lives up to its initial expectations. It is an urban-Indian drama-cum-thriller (hardly surprising, given the Indian-author’s penchant for combining genres), heavily drawing on personal experiences of the author, like most initial works.

Ronit, a young officer in the merchant-navy, is on the steaming ship, Adriatic Wave, discussing his toxic marriage with his captain, when Somali pirates hijack the vessel. The crew members are taken to a solitary stretch of sand and kept prisoners there, and told that they will be freed only when their company pays a $ 10M ransom. The cook is summarily killed and thrown overboard. Given the blood and tension permeating through the story, one would expect the story to take the line of a thriller or at least have some impact on the psyche of these marooned crewmen. This never happens.

Even when the pirates are rough, burning people alive among other gruesome acts, the love-stories of the protagonist and his captain never cease. They talk through pain and bullets, about the lovers who are no longer with them. The captain’s story is the hook, which keeps the reader turning the pages of the novel.

All things considered, the book would make a suitable plot for a Bollywood flick, given its mushy themes and exotic locations. And that certainly cannot be a bad thing.

If you are looking for a quick read – it took me all of two hours to read this novel – you may want to pick this up here.

P.S. This blog will have a regular Book-Reviews section, to which I promise to remain faithful. And you know how promises work!