How many times do you think in love? |
Rodin's Thinking Man in Paris. Photo courtesy: wayneconrady.wordpress.com |
How many times do you think in love? |
Rodin's Thinking Man in Paris. Photo courtesy: wayneconrady.wordpress.com |
(Photo courtesy: Priyanka Singh; Model: Datri Sodha) |
The good life.. coffee, beach, serenity! (Juara Beach, Pulao Tioman, Malaysia) |
The end of the world? It did seem like it! (South China Sea) |
The coffee lady who taught me how to make this beautiful paper star! (Milan, Italy) |
Falling in love with a roving musician? (Venice) |
Spin on a bull's testicles for good luck! (Milan) |
It's okay to stand alone when you know why you're where you are! (Milan) |
Endless possibilities. (Photo courtesy: Sharmistha Deb) |
You must have seen it. Couples standing and longingly gazing at each other—the girl in the first compartment, while the guy plays the balancing act—one foot on the “border”, the other on the “general” side. Very a la Veer-Zaara, or any other cross-border love story. The division is like the forbidden line you’re not supposed to cross. But then, your loved one is on the other side. How can you give in to societal pressures and be separated from your lover for a whole 20 minutes?! Down with the government for having put up such barriers in the path of true love. After all, you can’t just leave your lover to his/her antics, while you go in search of a comfy spot, can you!
It is thus that, such an unintended voyeuristic pursuit (I swear!), I have been able to identify the different kinds of love stories that have been playing out in front of me (I spend a LOT of time in the Metro, obviously!). Here are my humble observations:
There’s the deeply in love: the one where the guy and girl stand really close right at the juncture of the two compartments, whispering sweet nothings to each other, accompanied with the occasional laugh. This is also valid for the newly-in-love couples.
The flirty love: where the girl’s bobbing between standing right next to the guy and stepping a couple steps away every now and then. You have me, but you don’t.
The budding love: the guy stands at the juncture, the girl stands near the last door of the women’s compartment with her friends. Many looks are being exchanged, and even an occasional short conversation. More often than not, the guy’s eyes will be full of entreaty to the girl to walk over to him, but the girl won’t comply. This is more like a power game, no?
The discreet love: where the couple’s standing glued to the Metro wall, both facing forward, but hands occasionally holding each other. This has another variant, wherein the guy stands firmly ON the border, while the girl stands a couple of steps away—both stealing occasional glances at each other. No verbal conversation.
The steady love: guy stands casually on the juncture, while the girl stands right next to the two last seats, or even sits down should it be empty. There is a steady flow of conversation between the two, which is neither hushed nor infused with frequent laughter. A continuous smile, maybe.
Although, in all of this, the guy’s position seems to be fairly constant, no? :-POh, and there’s one other kind, the contentedly married love: now this is completely different. These are two very practical individuals who would rather stand comfortably in their respective compartments, well knowing that since they’ll have to get together anyway after the ride is over, they might has well enjoy these 20 minutes of solace with their brethren.
Happy Valentine’s! ;-)
Oh what would it be like to make love to you,
that flows with such feverish fervour.
What would I not give to lie under,
as every sensual wave hits me like a new awakening.
No, wait! That’s just my mind playing tricks,
because you’re there, and yet, here I am.
I can’t help but be blown away by your force, passion, beauty, grace,
so soft that I can bend you at will — mine! So stolid that I can’t help but submit — yours!
The fire embers that fly and get lost in the wind — no, not fireflies that light up again, but the tiny flecks that escape the wooden fire —
are testimony to our symphonic overture.
The errant sparks give themselves to the universe after that orgasmic burst of a moment,
but the flame burns strong, bright.
That’s us.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
you to me and me to you.
But no one will ever know — our secret.
They will never understand your moan and my sigh,
your teasing playfulness and my longing gaze that consumes you into its very depths.
Pity. They’ll never know the fantastical spectacle that fire and water create.
They won’t because they’ll never care to see what lies under my downward shy eyes.
Sasi Restaurant, Kasol, Himachal Pradesh
18.45, 8.10.11
It’s a different life,
the one I dream of.
It’s like the rolling clouds over the verdant hills,
beautiful as they are, stark white across a clear blue sky,
still nothing but air to hold when I stretch out my hand.
It’s a different life,
the one I dream of.
It’s like the high from a joint, rolled up in a scroll.
The elusive bliss from the seamless nothingness beyond,
a neverending chase for the ethereal je ne sais quoi.
It’s a different life,
the one I dream of.
It’s the one born out of the reflection from my tears.
The thoughts unleashed like the walled river released from its bounds,
its gushing, rolling stream giving life to uncountable saplings on a desert plain.
It’s a different life,
the one I dream of.
It’s the walk on a wonderfully chilly winter morning.
Question is... is it the road that goes endlessly on, melting into the horizon
or is it the one that goes winding up to a doorstep... the doorstep I otherwise call home?
Sasi Restaurant, Kasol, Himachal Pradesh
14.30, 8.10.11
I am not an activist. I am as lazy as they come. I like the finer things in life more than I like roughing it. I keep searching for a purpose in life and want to be part of something bigger, but as I said, I am too lazy. I have a lot of opinions...on things I know a little about and even on things I don’t know anything about. I will probably leave two people to fight things out between them, than interfere. I am not an activist. But I wore a black band for the first time in my life for two days—protesting the arrest/detainment of Anna Hazare. The black band was to protest the curbing of one’s right to protest, and not in support of Anna Hazare and the Jan Lokpal Bill.
On a recent Saturday, a combination of Anna Hazare recounting the freedom struggle on one of the reality music shows in the morning, followed by going for ‘Rise of the Apes’ in the afternoon left me pensive (and yes, I am aware of the unlikely combo). So…during a particularly unrealistic sequence when the apes were wreaking havoc on London while they fight for their freedom, my mind wandered back to Anna Hazare, his anecdotes from the freedom movement, the current state of governance, the rampant corruption, the general chaos in terms of the future, and I thought—when will it be enough?
Taking a stand
What will it take for me and all those like me—who are still living their regular lives with the India Against Corruption banter in the background—to get out of comfort of our daily routine and take a stand? And by taking a stand, I don’t mean shouting “Anna tum sangharsh karo, hum tumhare saath hain (Anna, continue your struggle. We’re with you)”. I mean taking an ACTIVE stand like those who are working and fasting with Anna Hazare. Now, to be honest, I am occasionally a sceptic and a cynic. Do I believe that everyone’s got an altruistic motive? No. Is everyone in the campaign clean? No. But I do think, like many others, that the sentiment that has been created by the protest is an immensely healthy change from our previous “chalta hai (everything goes)” attitude.
However, taking a stand doesn’t mean wearing Tricolour bandanas and wristbands and taking flags while you ride down the road at dangerous speeds, and blatantly flouting traffic rules. That’s just an insult to the concept of taking a stand.
In the two weeks since that Saturday, and a week since this “movement” started, I have been truly moved to take a stand once—when Anna and his supporters were “detained”. I didn’t do much. I’m not moved to great shows of protest easily, so I did what I still think is an elegant (and admittedly convenient) way to show my protest. I wore a black band on my arm from the time the arrests happened till the time the confirmation came that Anna will be leaving Tihar Jail. Then, to satisfy my curiosity and check out the Ramlila Maidan energy that I’ve been hearing so much about, I headed out there on Monday—Day 7 of Anna Hazare’s fast. (Check out the slide show if you’re interested in the images and my reactions to what I saw there, or click here.)
Ground check
To be honest, I wasn’t moved by any feeling of nationalism because of being there. But the marked change in the way people responded to each other did move me indeed. Considering the huge crowd, all the jostling, there wasn’t a single cross word, or impatient sigh, unintentional elbowing was followed by instant apology from both parties, elders were treated with utmost respect, people going out for a sip of water would return with several water packets for everyone (without being asked to!). THAT was what I loved. (What I didn’t love was the absolute filth outside the Maidan.)
What matters?
This post isn’t about discussing the merits or demerits of the Lokpal or Jan Lokpal bills, but about what moves us to react and how we react. Honestly, I think the movement wouldn’t have picked up this much momentum so soon had the government (or Delhi Police, if you’re buying the official story) not arrested Anna Hazare and Co. That’s where it hit people the hardest—when their right to protest/expression/dissent was under duress. They threatened to take away our voice and THAT was unacceptable. Plus, the Anna Hazare camp has appealed to reason rather than sentiment, which would explain the mass participation by the middle class and above.
Over the past week, the media has made it impossible to move past Anna Hazare. Is that a good thing? Maybe not. There are other things that are happening too, but it isn’t necessarily a bad thing either. This is an important movement and should be given its due. And considering our propensity to let the media guide our attention, at least there is no way our focus can waver at the moment.
Anna Hazare is the face of the movement, and not the movement itself. People are not on streets because of Anna Hazare. They are there because the issue he has raised has tapped into a groundswell of discontent that already existed among Indians irrespective of caste, creed, economic background…political and bureaucratic background might have been an exception though. As long as people realize that and remember it even after this frenzy of a movement is over, all this would have been worthwhile. The “Anna team” has to realize that blackmailing the government on the back of Anna Hazare’s failing health and the impending violence that might happen if something happens to him is not the right way. There HAS to be compromise on both fronts.
When it matters to me
But what of those of us who haven’t taken up the cause actively yet? I will and can speak only for myself. I don’t know. I know had Anna Hazare not been released, I would have been moved to take a more active stand than just wearing a black band. That’s because the government’s action threatened to affect ME. So basically, that’s what it boils down to… When it affects me. That’s when it will be enough.
That's probably why Irom Sharmila's protest against the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act isn't as popular as this one. Or Medha Patkar's (and don't roll your eyes at this) Narmada Bachao Andolan hasn't garnered consistent fervour of this kind. They are just not enough for me (or us?) to not care about my job and walk down Rajpath with a candle, shout out slogans, bug every official I can till my voice is heard. I am yet to reach my breaking point, which, in my opinion, is not exactly a good thing. I admire those who have gone out of their way to work for a cause bigger than their personal circles. It’s something I aspire to do, but there is time yet, I suppose.
Things I think about, but can't say out loud; things I need to say again and again; words that are cathartic; or simply a space where I can be what I want to be...and the rest of the world just has to deal with it.