Bomb blasts in Delhi, yet again. This time it was five bloody blasts. The newspapers are ranting about the incompetence of Indian police. Authors of many books are furious at the Indian government that only found vital 'clues', the day after. The chai wala out front has hung newspapers with pictures of the blast splashed all over the front page, in at least 4 different languages (depending on where you live), and his everyday customers who keep a tab with him talk about how they had postponed their plans of shopping for Dussera at Connaught Place just yesterday. Meanwhile families who lost their loved ones have not fully acknowledged that they would never see their son, daughter or mother again. The common man however moves on.
The daily life of many is such. We move through the contours of terror, alarm, panic, scourge, poverty, distress and trepidation with the calm of a saint. We walk the narrow streets of the city with people from myriad states, speaking several tongues, and wearing different attires and often we'll ram into each of them unconditionally. We as a people dawn a smile in our heads and a frown on our faces; thats how we begin our day and that's how we wait for the next. Thinking back now, it comes as no surprise that I found myself often surprised, disturbed even, when people flashed smiles at me and looked straight into my eyes when I first got to Rochester's suburbia where my aunt lives. I'm told the people in the South are especially sacrine and chatty but New York is the place for me really. I am comfortable, thanks to previous practice, with the frowns and the busyness that uniformly masks faces here. I like to believe that like back home these faces have a smile behind them that comes with no expectation of yanking out those shiny 32 or so behind each lip.
At the same time, theres more to home than New York can offer, for me that is. Take for instance the overnight train journey. We squeeze into an already full compartment of a train to let a mother lay her sleeping infant down on the seat while also gladly making room for an elderly couple to sit together despite their seats being two coaches apart. We let our neighbor put his leg on our seat while we place ours right next to his and you want to know what the icing on the cake is? we would have gone through this entire transaction without exchanging any words! Whats more, we share our dinner with them and we become one big family with our very own make do annoying younger cousin, lecturing uncles, gossipy aunties and snoring grandparents. We also make it a point to take their luggage out for them and bid goodbyes. And finally we hold them in the stories we narrate to our real cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents.
If you go back a little to the meandering streets I was talking about, you can easily find me, or your mum, your sister or even my friends, yelling in hindi with a colorful brand of additional urdu cruses (if you are a Hyderabadi that is), at the autorickshaw driver who thinks he can take us on a trip with all his "meter rate badh gaya memsahib" stories. Soon, you'll find one of us moving along within minutes to begging/bargaining with the vendor of a store and seconds after find us laughing and tugging away at people only to walk into another store to once again begin yet another dynamic interaction with yet another stubborn vendor with a "fixed rate" board hanging above his cashiers desk. And at each end, the vendors as well as the autorickshaw driver would have gone along with a frown that soon changed its direction or with a knowing smirk or even a nod at the predictability of their customers. There is a sense of belongingness that comes with knowing a language you can curse in, understanding inside jokes, humming the songs you can sing along, knowing that it is just as well that you dont know if Dussera was the coming home of Lord Ram or the celebration of the powerful Goddess Durga, you celebrate it with the same gusto and love as you would if you knew what it truly was for.
Its no wonder why, over time I've begun to truly believe that, there may be platonic love, sibling love, soul love and what ever else but, there definitely is what I'd call the Great Indian Love. It describes the frowns on the street, the silent comfort when your friend stands by you while you resolve a ruckus with the cops, the mass celebration when India wins the world cup or that single Olympic Gold medal. Its the force feed your gramma partakes in, the tears your mum sheds for you when you fail for the first time in school, the money you beget when your granddad receives your obeisance, the presence of your husband who moves with you when you want to or the tolerance of your wife who wakes up to serve you dinner when you come home at 2pm after a week long trip. I' ll also bet that you see it in the colors of Holi we gladly put on unknown faces and in the lamps we light for our neighbor who is out of town for Diwali. You certainly cant miss it in the assuring afternoon Namaz you hear from the boom box outside of the mosque or in the Suprabatam we hear ever so often from a similar boom box of a temple. Its in the hilariousness we share with our sisters when the priests compete for the mic during a wedding (in case yours is one of those love marriages within the Indian culture look out for it!) and in the laughter we share at a silent fart your your mother gets blamed for (for feeding you unconditionally ofcourse).
But I wonder often what this rampant bombing does to that Great Indian Love. Do we slowly stop smiling within ourselves? Do we gradually become intolerant with greedy vendors and see capitalist motives in autorickshaw drivers? Do we celebrate Ganeshcharuti or Mahashivrati will less gusto and color because we are fraught with fear about the next mob bombing spree? Do we become xenophobic every time our Hindu religious friend steps into our homes or our Muslim neighbor offers their delicious Haleem? Do we turn into bigots who offer our seats to our parents but not to the older gentleman standing in front of us?
What happens to the common 'man' over time if he is continually terrorized?
The daily life of many is such. We move through the contours of terror, alarm, panic, scourge, poverty, distress and trepidation with the calm of a saint. We walk the narrow streets of the city with people from myriad states, speaking several tongues, and wearing different attires and often we'll ram into each of them unconditionally. We as a people dawn a smile in our heads and a frown on our faces; thats how we begin our day and that's how we wait for the next. Thinking back now, it comes as no surprise that I found myself often surprised, disturbed even, when people flashed smiles at me and looked straight into my eyes when I first got to Rochester's suburbia where my aunt lives. I'm told the people in the South are especially sacrine and chatty but New York is the place for me really. I am comfortable, thanks to previous practice, with the frowns and the busyness that uniformly masks faces here. I like to believe that like back home these faces have a smile behind them that comes with no expectation of yanking out those shiny 32 or so behind each lip.
At the same time, theres more to home than New York can offer, for me that is. Take for instance the overnight train journey. We squeeze into an already full compartment of a train to let a mother lay her sleeping infant down on the seat while also gladly making room for an elderly couple to sit together despite their seats being two coaches apart. We let our neighbor put his leg on our seat while we place ours right next to his and you want to know what the icing on the cake is? we would have gone through this entire transaction without exchanging any words! Whats more, we share our dinner with them and we become one big family with our very own make do annoying younger cousin, lecturing uncles, gossipy aunties and snoring grandparents. We also make it a point to take their luggage out for them and bid goodbyes. And finally we hold them in the stories we narrate to our real cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents.
If you go back a little to the meandering streets I was talking about, you can easily find me, or your mum, your sister or even my friends, yelling in hindi with a colorful brand of additional urdu cruses (if you are a Hyderabadi that is), at the autorickshaw driver who thinks he can take us on a trip with all his "meter rate badh gaya memsahib" stories. Soon, you'll find one of us moving along within minutes to begging/bargaining with the vendor of a store and seconds after find us laughing and tugging away at people only to walk into another store to once again begin yet another dynamic interaction with yet another stubborn vendor with a "fixed rate" board hanging above his cashiers desk. And at each end, the vendors as well as the autorickshaw driver would have gone along with a frown that soon changed its direction or with a knowing smirk or even a nod at the predictability of their customers. There is a sense of belongingness that comes with knowing a language you can curse in, understanding inside jokes, humming the songs you can sing along, knowing that it is just as well that you dont know if Dussera was the coming home of Lord Ram or the celebration of the powerful Goddess Durga, you celebrate it with the same gusto and love as you would if you knew what it truly was for.
Its no wonder why, over time I've begun to truly believe that, there may be platonic love, sibling love, soul love and what ever else but, there definitely is what I'd call the Great Indian Love. It describes the frowns on the street, the silent comfort when your friend stands by you while you resolve a ruckus with the cops, the mass celebration when India wins the world cup or that single Olympic Gold medal. Its the force feed your gramma partakes in, the tears your mum sheds for you when you fail for the first time in school, the money you beget when your granddad receives your obeisance, the presence of your husband who moves with you when you want to or the tolerance of your wife who wakes up to serve you dinner when you come home at 2pm after a week long trip. I' ll also bet that you see it in the colors of Holi we gladly put on unknown faces and in the lamps we light for our neighbor who is out of town for Diwali. You certainly cant miss it in the assuring afternoon Namaz you hear from the boom box outside of the mosque or in the Suprabatam we hear ever so often from a similar boom box of a temple. Its in the hilariousness we share with our sisters when the priests compete for the mic during a wedding (in case yours is one of those love marriages within the Indian culture look out for it!) and in the laughter we share at a silent fart your your mother gets blamed for (for feeding you unconditionally ofcourse).
But I wonder often what this rampant bombing does to that Great Indian Love. Do we slowly stop smiling within ourselves? Do we gradually become intolerant with greedy vendors and see capitalist motives in autorickshaw drivers? Do we celebrate Ganeshcharuti or Mahashivrati will less gusto and color because we are fraught with fear about the next mob bombing spree? Do we become xenophobic every time our Hindu religious friend steps into our homes or our Muslim neighbor offers their delicious Haleem? Do we turn into bigots who offer our seats to our parents but not to the older gentleman standing in front of us?
What happens to the common 'man' over time if he is continually terrorized?
what happens when ppl are constantly terrorized?
ReplyDeleteJust the other day, i was walking back from college late in the evening, constantly worried for my safety. and i was wondering if carrying pepper-spay or a swiss army knife or being able to run faster would have made me feel any safer? but then i argued with myself that one shouldnt neeed those things to live in a civilized society, the whole time doubting if it really was that civilized.
Our governments on the other hand have nuclear weapons, knowing they might never use them. Whats the joy in causing mass destruction when ur not a terrorist? Or are we all terrorists?
The point is that in our struggle to make our own lives better and be happier, we are willing to overlook the fact that the very life we're trying to improve the quality of is being threatened. As long as we manage to stay on the right side of the thin line between hope and despair, all the 'loves' are here to stay.
What happens when people are constantly terrorized? They get immune to it. Show a worried brow,say "so sad" some platitudes of how inefficient the government is, Call relatives, assure they are all ok heave relief......get on with their lives....
ReplyDeleteTruth is.....im getting that way too...
ReplyDeletewhere will this take us...suspiciousness, conflict, mistrust.. heightened survival instinct.. back to the socio-psycho set up at the beginning of times..life comes full circle!
ReplyDeleteWhat happens when people are constantly terrorized? They loose tolerance. Take the example of Mumbai, every time there is a bomb blast the whole city comes together to help each other, to comfort each other to stand with each other and to mourn with each other but is this going to continue indefinitely???? I dont know but i hope it does..
ReplyDeleteI cant tell you how much I loved this blog. Its something I knew existed and read about it but the reason why I really loved this piece of yours was because of the way you brought out an amazing positive out of such a negative and tragic sequence of events in the recent past. I especially love the way you end it (you should know how much I love good endings) by questioning the future of this beautiful Indian nature in the face of such adversity. Unfortunate as it is I think the great Indian love will take a hit owing to recent events...I am sure the skepticism in the neighbours haleem is already present among the , lets say people who are not so well educated and it will only grow. It is no secret that most attacks in the world today are by Islam based groups and most of them lived in our community quietly working under the radar. I can only imagine the gargantuan size of worries that the security all over the world face now to keep the world safe for the common man. To this end I feel the steps taken by the Delhi police is quite refreshing, i.e involving the common man for intelligence. This in turn might just heal some of the rifts between the religious communities exemplified by the announcement of the accused family to punish him if found guilty( in the Delhi case). Who knows this might be a step in the resurrection of the Great Indian Love :)
ReplyDeleteKeep em coming....you seem to have developed a lovely coherent thought process.
Loved The Great Indian Love A!! What happens when people are constantly terrorized? is my worst fear, it haunts my dreams and is giving me sleepless nights, cause India is becoming more intolerant than it ever was. While bomb blasts were happening in Delhi, churches were getting vandalised and nuns getting raped in Mangalore by the Bajrang Dal.Intolerant and violent is what we are becoming.Violence is becoming a solution!! I feel a sense of doom A!! Can't see the light at the end of the tunnel!! Is Unity in Diversity still India? Is it still the country that stood for non-violence? will we get there again?
ReplyDeleteeach one of us can do the direct opposite of what that terrorist did and heal the damage!!! And when enough number of us do this, we can even heal the terrorist :) So wanna know what this powerful antidote is for a bombblast?
ReplyDeleteOk, its just a simple Dalai Lama thingy :) Just close your eyes and send this heartfelt sincere prayer out into the cosmos " May all sentient beings be free from suffering " thats all !!!
One person praying just one time like this, spreads out into the cosmos an equal and opposite impact of that which occurred when one person planted one bomb or when one person crashed an aircraft into the world trade centre!!!
difficult to believe, but true! and thats y the world manages to still survive and go on inspite of so many bombings!!! :) because as many terrorist that are there out there, so many if not more Dalai Lamas are also there out there. So all you guys come on and join and do this as many times as possible in your silence and then you will see that the whole world gets transformed!!!
And remember to include the terrorist bomber also into the sentient beings for whom you pray!
And babyakka! I'm terribly terribly proud of you re darling:)