Tuesday 22 December 2015

Musings

I have a poor eye for art. I don't see vast depths on canvasses that people with more eclectic tastes (whatever that means) call 'modern art'. I find myself unable to be moved by exquisite artworks and over the past few years, after most of my friends bought their long cherished DSLRs, I resolved never to honestly remark on any of their work, more so when explicitly asked to. Essentially, I have never been a creative person and cannot tell whether it is an acquired or an inherited trait.

You may say that I write but come to think it's merely an expression of a few related thoughts in the one language that I have managed to understand over 2 decades. Music, movies and books are the only real exceptions where (I think) I enjoy certain tastes and genres which give me a sense of what a human connection to a work of art might feel like. It is with these thoughts and in this light that I must begin today.

Most of my friends were impressed by Tamashaa. And by 'impressed' I mean so much in awe that they either strongly recommended it to unsuspecting users across all social networks or went on to be deeply hungover on it. Some even had a major revelation or an epiphany of sorts (I still tend to have those in exam halls instead of cinema halls). Unsurprisingly, none of that happened with me, although about half way into the movie, I could make fair sense of what the director had intended to get across. In that sense, I must admit it was much unlike a regular Bollywood money spinner and worth some after thought, albeit one that landed the fruit of these thoughts a little too far from the tree.

As one among millions pursuing the infamous 'B. Tech. + MBA' career combo today, I consider myself a self anointed ambassador of the ordinary here. It wasn't always so, though. I spent a large part of my formative years with the belief that I was destined for 'big things'. This belief- far from delusional arrogance- was driven largely by a restricted world view and the kind of innocent optimism that stems from adolescence, and in part by circumstance and causality. It was a time I was far more curious than cautious, confident than circumspect and ambitious than realistic. It took just five words, for the second and last time in my life, to change that forever- 'You have not qualified JEE'.

Perhaps I wasn't motivated enough. Perhaps I didn't slog all that hard. Perhaps my world view wasn't as broad as it should have been. OR perhaps I just wasn't smart enough. As it is with science- the simplest explanation is often the correct one. And just as it is with life- the truth sets you free but first it pisses you off.

The truth was that I was no different from countless other teenagers who were nurturing the same dream, sweating, bleeding and bruising themselves on the way in much the same manner as I did, some perhaps a lot more. The truth was thousands of them were smarter, sharper and more resilient than I ever was. It took some time but denial, anger, depression, bargain gave way to acceptance as I realised why life goals are often called dreams.

It is surprising how convenient it is to believe we deserve so much more than we get. And it is amusing how this realisation can be a constant reminder through life, perpetually distorting the present and all this while knitting a past that will always be looked back upon with far more regret than rejoice. The truth is, for every one of us who 'makes his dream come true', statistically, there'd be hundreds of us who won't. In that sense then, does it mean the rest of us failed?

Growing up, it always seemed that success stories were abundant and all around. That it was necessary to succeed at whatever it is that was deemed worth succeeding at by the people who surrounded you. That failure was an unworthy (at times unfortunate) exception. You had to do it once and you got to be the best or you might as well not do it altogether. Life, it seemed, was binary- discreetly switching between two extremes with absolutely nothing separating the vast chasm between success and failure.

The truth is, most of us thrive somewhere between the enormous spectrum stretched between Ved and Rancho now immortalised by the celluloid. We are substantially good at a few things that fascinate us but lack that roaring passion to stand out in any one of them. This sense of ordinariness may strike hard against our time honed habit of self appeasement but that does not drive it one bit away from reality. There are those who do stand apart and we read/hear of them all the time but that should come with that same sense of acceptance I mentioned above. Sadly, it is scarcely so.

"Har sapne ki ek keemat hoti hai"- every dream comes at a price. I found it to be truer than most things I heard or read. That price may be time, comfort, fun, health, family, sleep, money, friendship, youth, love, morals or a whole range of other things. Naturally, not everyone is willing to accept or play by such a rude set of terms. A good friend once told me this when I was as confused about life's purpose as I might be coming across right now. That's only because I still am- finding my way through that enormous chasm no one ever told me existed, much less how to navigate. Perhaps that's life in itself.

No, this is not an emotional reaction to a disappointment or a heartbreak. Nor do I intend to say that it is childish or futile to have passions or dreams- there's nothing more lively than that. However, it will always be easier and enormously more convinient to raise your hands in the classroom and say you want to become someone, than to make the necessary sacrifices (I choose the word with great caution here) in order to make that happen. And it is pertinent to make truce with the alternate reality that sometimes, just sometimes, it might still not add up.

There is no fate but what we make and there's no point trying to convince ourselves otherwise. The argument of 'fate and destiny' is just another manifestation of that deluding sense of self appeasement. We may all be heroes of our own stories but unlike the inspiring school teacher, life doesn't owe us an explanation. Most of it isn't fair or unfair, it's just what it is. 'The Rolling Stones' quite appropriately sang-

"You can't always get what you want,
But if you try sometime,
You just might find-
You get what you need."

Tuesday 24 November 2015

We do need some education!

Despite all its artistic neatness, the elegantly encapsulated technological sophistication and the very many ways it has twisted the very fabric of our society- changing the way we live our lives- I could never develop much affinity towards the concept of social networking. I think it is deceptive and misleading in the way it is most commonly used, especially in this part of the world. This does not mean that I in any way despise the idea of a digital global society that has made the world so much smaller. On the contrary, I am in utter awe of how well within a decade, a handful of visionaries went on to have an impact on human knowledge that is exceeded perhaps only by the advent of the printing press. What bothers me, however, is the way it is increasingly being used to defeat this very purpose. 

I was lazily spread across a chair in my classroom, sleep deprived, uninterested and aimlessly waiting for the professor to arrive for the next lecture when I came across a post on my Facebook feed-


Despite all my senses forcing me to scroll past it like dozens of other updates, something about this did not allow me to do so. The message on the right seemed like a typically worded pro-Modi sentiment that has swept across mainstream media, especially social networks which have been a major instrument in the BJP success story. The image on the left is in reference to an incident that took place at the recent ASEAN summit where it was alleged that the Prime Minister could not notice the national flag erroneously turned upside down. This Facebook handle lashes out at the faction of the media that brought this to public notice (possibly being referred to as 'they' in the pic) with the justification that the PM had also, allegedly, corrected the flag right side up and asked the photographers to take the picture all over again.

Now I do not know whether that actually happened, for he would also have had to urge his Japanese counterpart to repeat the customary handshake against diplomatic protocol. But what is actually disconcerting is how you have been made to believe something that isn't even overtly right in the first place!

Notice the striking difference in the color of the suit worn by Shinzo Abe in the two pics (some alleged it is because of the flash, but judging by the difference it made to the one worn by Modi, I find it hard to believe). The light intensity in the first pic makes it look like day time. The absolute lack of same in the second affirms it is past sunset. Above all, the bottom left pocket on the Japanese statesman's suit which is visible on the lower pic is absent on the one in the top which is conclusive evidence that the two images are from the same place but at two very different times!

Note that the post has been shared nearly three times as much as the number of 'likes' on it. So you can estimate the number of people it might have eventually reached. Thousands of casual, unsuspecting users like you and me have now been effortlessly force-fed an idea by someone who none of us will ever know. And this is perhaps just one among millions of such propaganda posts endlessly doing rounds on every social media there is, painting, twisting, bending and forming "popular opinions" on everything under the sun- from the Paris attacks and barbarism of the Islamic State to the Dadri lynching and claims of rising intolerance in India.

A 'political enthusiast' on Quora offers the same justification. 60k views, 4.5k upvotes and counting!
It is disturbing to realise how conveniently mainstream media can forge and destroy popular opinions. And it is appalling to see how almost anything that suits some whims can be passed of as "news". Our ever decreasing attention spans and diminishing will to reason will only make it easier for such people to build a world where the very notion of fact and truth is a myth.

Belief, it seems, is a luxury we can no longer afford!
I have the political opinions of a 7 year old who recites the national anthem every morning in his school assembly ground. But such an "Orwellian nightmare" still seems like a genuine possibility. Seeing how uselessly we have cruised past pressing issues like corruption, women safety, bans, beef and now intolerance, all in the past 1 year, it only seems fair to assume we are mere puppets and the strings are wound around the fingers of those who care as much about us as we actually do about these issues.

Another instance of how mainstream media reported one comment taken utterly out of context just to generate a flashy news bite-

And here's what had actually happened. A reporter had asked Priyanka about a solitaire ring she had been wearing recently, to which she had replied- "They (media) made a big deal out of it, but I buy my own diamonds. I don't need someone to buy them for me. When a guy comes into my life it will not be for diamonds, it will be not for cars, it will be nor for homes. A guy will be in my life only when I'm wholly crazily in love. I don't need a guy for anything except a children. Don't jump to conclusions because of my jewellery”

At times I sincerely miss those days when I could trust what I would hear and believe what I would see. The vagaries of life have long deprived me of that innocence and luxury. They have made me suspecting of everything and everyone. But then there are times like these which make me wonder that perhaps it is an enormous virtue which, apparently, many of us are deprived of.


None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.

Tuesday 20 October 2015

The Last Airbender

How can you smash back to back sixes of the first 3 deliveries of an ODI? Or score 280+ runs in the first day of a Test match? Have a strike rate in excess of 80 in Test Cricket? Get to a 300 with a six? Or get there twice and then come agonizingly close to a record breaking third, only to be dismissed caught and bowled by a delivery that you might as well have negotiated with your eyes closed!

And yet that's Virender Sehwag for you- the only cricketer who could remove all the bravado about the game and reduce it to its bare essentials- see the ball, hit the ball. That was as easy at it could get and perhaps all that was really needed.

Watching him take guard for India, alongside Sachin in the 2003 World Cup is not just some of my earliest recollections, but one of my most loved sights in the gentleman's game. For me that was- as someone has said in a different context- like having 'a surgeon at one end and a butcher at the other'. Watching the entire team crumble around him as he worked his way to 85 odd runs in the final against Australia was heart rending. Nearly everything else about his career though has been nothing short of delight.

As a much feared player who demanded singular strategies from opposition, he introduced a distinctively entertaining brand of batsmanship. With him at the crease, you always knew something was bound to happen and this very excitement associated with his game constituted the heart of sporting entertainment. Experts would throw terms like 'hand-eye coordination' to paraphrase his unique abilities. I always believed it had got to do a lot more with the way he approached life in general. As a typical Jat, born and brought up in the outskirts of Delhi, blatant straight-forwardness was his way of life. As someone who always went for the runs without ever worrying about form or conditions or opposition, one could always sense that in his batting. This inherent regret-free-no-holds-barred attitude was as much of his strength as- perhaps- his weakness.

At a time when much unchecked westernisation of societies has complicated relationships, it shouldn't be surprising that we could learn much about life and simplicity from Virender Sehwag's approach to the game of cricket. His devil-may-care attitude on the field, his blatant disregard for the conventional, his near indiffernce to landmarks, his the-ball-is-turning-and-its-too-long-to-get-old-so-let-me-just-send-it-out-of-the-park approach (FYI it did happen- in international cricket!) and above all this near non-human manner to let go of all of that at the fall of a hat are all attributes we can do well to bring into our lives.

Much has been said and much will be as he announces his retirement, in his own seemingly nonchalant manner. As unforgiving as the game is, very few are fortunate enough to say goodbye at their best on the field, fewer still bid adieu amidst all the fanfare that we saw being accorded to the very greatest of the game. Something makes me feel Sehwag was never the person who would have cared much about all of that, for theatrics and drama were never his strong suit. He wasn't a Sachin who was born to play cricket, or blessed with the unflinching commitment of a Dravid, or the leadership and flair of a Ganguly, or the much reserved masterclass that was Laxman. He was Sehwag- distinctive in his own right and yet among the very best of Indian cricket.

Hope he has all the joy and excitement in his life that he gave to all his viewers.

PS- Beta beta hota hai, baap baap hota hai. Par ye beta bhi baap se kuch kam nahi tha!

Monday 10 August 2015

ख़याल - IV

ले चले हम उनको खुदा के दर पे,
सोचा खालिक से उनको रूबरू करते.
वर्ना इतना ही यकीन होता इबादत पे,
तो बाखुदा मुहब्बत नहीं शिकायत करते.
 
जाने की ज़िद कर यूँ गए वो,
चाह के भी करना इंकार नहीं आया.
हैरत हुई बेरुखी पे उनकी,
एक पल भी जाने क्यों ऐतराज़ नहीं आया.

शिरकत की महफ़िलों में हमने,
बाँटने ये दर्द कोई हमराज़ नहीं आया.
डुबो दिया हर ग़म हर जाम में लेकिन,
अंजाम--मोहब्बत फिर भी कुछ रास नहीं आया.

हसीनो को रुखसत करती रहे नज़रें,
गुस्ताख़ दिल को फिर मगर प्यार नहीं आया.
जहाँ जान--जहां देखे, हमे-
एक तस्वीर भुला दे वो दीदार नहीं आया. 

ग़ालिब बने शायर, आशिक फरहान हुए,
हाल--दिल जो केह दे वो फनकार नहीं आया.
हटा देता इस दर्द की रेहमत,
ग़मों का बेवक्त कोई कर्ज़दार नहीं आया.

सुनते हैं तनहा हैं वो भी, शायद-
हमसे बढ़ कर उनका कोई हकदार नहीं आया.
हर अर्ज़--दर्द पर 'वाह!' उठती रही,
लबों पे उनके मगर इकरार नहीं आया.

एक 'हाँ!' की गुज़ारिश में ज़िन्दगी गुज़ार दी,
और वो बोले हमें इज़हार नहीं आया.
गुज़ार दी ना जाने घड़ियाँ कितनी,
अब तक करना इंतज़ार नहीं आया.

फ़कीर थे उनके, फिर काफ़िर हो गए,
पर इस जूनून पे उनको ऐतबार नहीं आया.
किसी लिए जन्नत मुक़र्रर हो गई,
और मेरी तकदीर में इक मज़ार नहीं आया...