Acceptance

My first post for the year – :). An update into the last 21 days if you will.

2016 has been a ho-hum sort of year so far. Professionally I am doing well – enough writing and editing assignments to keep me busy. A bit too busy to be honest. But the world continues to nose-dive into oblivion, as though hell bent on destroying itself before some meteor hits it. Global markets crash, students commit suicide, terrorists kill innocents, more soldiers die. I could have been talking about last year or the year before that. The news update is the same. We are going to the dogs from the looks of it.

However, on the personal front, I like where I am going. This is the first time that I have not bothered to go through the sham of making resolutions. I have anyway never kept one beyond five to six weeks at the most. But I have started out on things that have been on my to-do list for way too long.

I am going to be a year older tomorrow. There are slivers of wisdom that have pierced my decaying armour of youth. Not that it makes much of a difference. I am still repeating old mistakes and making new ones on top of it. But there has been some growth too.

After nearly 13 years in Dubai, I am finally learning Arabic. I know… shame on me! I should have done this much earlier… but my motto in my 40s is – better late than never.

I have read The Land of Seven Rivers by Sanjeev Sanyal (will be reading that one again), Wild by Cheryl Strayed (highly recommended for lovers of treks and hikes), The Roundabout Man by Clare Morrall (I liked it a lot… the way she writes especially) and have started on The Public Intellectual in India by Romila Thapar. While the Sanyal book was a carry forward from last year (I just had one chapter to read in 2016), everything else was done in the last 20 odd days!! I am amazed.

The Dubai Poetics group have accepted two of my poems for their anthology. You can read my submissions Stay a While (https://binusivan.wordpress.com/2013/06/20/stay-a-while/) and Don’t Send Me a Memo (https://binusivan.wordpress.com/2015/01/28/random-musings/) on my blog if interested. Will keep you updated on that.

On the novel front – it did take a back seat to my bread and butter writing these last three weeks. I feel like a procrastinating heel. But am back at it with a vengeance now. Sada – thank you for those links and encouragement.

Sometime last year, I began to enjoy cooking… for about a month. That feeling soon passed. Nothing has changed in 2016. I still don’t enjoy cooking. I think my cook is the most important man on earth. Apologies to the husband, father, brother, Modi and Obama. And off late, I am beginning to hate even regular housework with a vengeance. My new cleanliness motto is… actually, I have two – ‘Chaos and mess beget creativity’; and, ‘It is not dust; it is star dust’.

Incidentally, I have stopped colouring my hair. I am letting it go grey. I want to know how I will look.

So, hopefully, 2016 will be a year choc-a-bloc full of great books, poems, writing, freelance jobs, and maybe, just maybe, a deeper acceptance of who I am.

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FORGET INTOLERANCE. LET’S FOCUS ON ACCEPTANCE.

As the year ends, I found that unlike past years I am no longer keen on working on my resolutions list. Maybe because I know I am going to break every single resolution within a few weeks. However, my mind has been mulling a topic for some time now. And I think it is vital that I write this, so that these thoughts and ideas, once set on paper, will stop nagging me. Which is what they have been doing… nagging me.

Intolerance… it was the buzz word of the moment until a couple of weeks ago.

Before we proceed further, I would like to add my disclaimer – I am not interested in adding to the noise in this regard. However, being a writer, I have to write my thoughts down just so that they begin to possess some resemblance of order in my mind – packed as it is with trivia, notions, fears, hopes and ideas, besides my meal plan for my daughter’s school tiffins.

I write from my perspective. The perspective of an expatriate in the Middle East. An NRI. An Indian.

We live in a world where news reaches us with an immediacy that is shocking. The speed also means that the emotions it stokes are rawer and fresher. We are no longer getting angry about something that happened yesterday or last week. We are getting angry about something that is happening right now. And this anger fuels the drama on further, giving the issue new wings of energy to fly on. This can be good, as was proven in the Delhi bus rape case (the juvenile being let out and the act that has been cobbled together in a hurry is a different beast all together). But this can also be bad. An issue that would have died out in a day or never have been an issue, becomes a matter of international debate thanks to Facebook and WhatsApp posts, and tweets.

I am not a historian but am a bit of a history buff. Indian history to be very specific. I am not an expert on world or Indian politics either. But I am qualified by virtue of being an unwilling witness to the madness that our world sometimes devolves into every now and then. The little bit of reading that I have done, has impressed upon me one simple fact – India and the rest of the world have always been… hold your breath… intolerant. We as a species have always been driven by fear. Add power to the mix and you have the most potent cocktail on earth.

Governments are faceless macro beings or machineries if you will, that are fuelled by fear and power. Does that sound wildly new age to you? It shouldn’t. And it is not.

Be it Ashoka or Tughlaq, be it the American or the Iranian government, Romans or the Spanish, Nazi Germany or the Mongols, Israeli or Palestenian, Congress or BJP – governments, unfortunately are driven by fear and power. It is not a fault. It is what it is. Maybe something that is an intrinsic part of our collective DNA. Maybe it is the primitive, animalistic self in us.

Governments are made up of people. People come in all colour and stripes. It’s therefore no surprise that we have been doing a good job as a species in dividing ourselves up. Man-woman, white-black-brown-yellow, aggressor-victim, rich-poor, cultured-uncultured, West-East, Christian-Muslim-Hindu-Buddhist-Jain-Sikh, and nowadays, tolerant-intolerant.

As Indians, ‘Unity in Diversity’ is a slogan that we take pride in. It’s this very diversity that is being considered a problem now. Yet our very plurality means that try as we might we can’t run away from our diversity. We are different. We are separate. And that is ok.

However there is one more division. The only division that truly matters, in my opinion.

Evolved-unevolved. In our thinking.

Most of us are still unevolved. I include myself in that list. Work-in-progress.

Some of us tend to think that if we are at the receiving end of the stick then we are not in the wrong. We Indians are good at this… at playing the victim. We still blame the British Raj for so many of our problems. After all we were, and are the victims. To a certain extent, we’d be right – we are not committing an aggressive or harmful act. But even as victims not causing harm, we can be unevolved, because we propagate thinking that does not serve us in any way… individually or as a species.

How many of us can honestly say that we have not ourselves or our family members have not said something that dismisses another community or puts another religion down or laughs at someone because of their beliefs. “All whites are racists.” “Indians are poor and unclean.” “Fat people are lazy people.” ”Those with darker skins are less beautiful.” “Those who eat meat are dirty.” “Girls are a burden to their parents.” “All Muslims are prone to violence. “I could go on. We have all done it – to different degrees. Every single one of us.

Some, inspired by their experiences and the people they meet, end up thinking about their old thoughts and deeds, and evolve and grow in their thinking. But we still find ourselves slipping.

When the terrorists attacked Paris (a modern, Western city as opposed to a place that has become accustomed to bomb blasts – can you even begin to acknowledge the sheer monstrosity of that sentence?), quite a few of us devolved. Stepped back into fear. Let in only Christian refugees! Don’t let in any refugee – they are all terrorists! Donald Trump trumped us all in his call for a return to a narrower way of thinking and living. Scarier still was the fact that his hate-fuelled words found such strong support in a country that prides itself for its pluralism and open mindedness!

Trump. BusinessInsider.com

The new face of intolerance. http://www.businessinsider.com

When Shah Rukh Khan, and later Aamir Khan made a controversial remark, India quickly lined up into two main opposing teams. One team felt they are right and India is going to the dogs. The other team felt that they should leave India and stop being so unpatriotic. In Aamir Khan’s case, a core comment which did not even emphasis the word intolerance (he kept using the word despondent) resulted in a storm of accusations and counter-accusations that stank of just one thing – intolerance.

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SRK to Aamir: Let’s limit all our comments to our movies. We are too famous to have personal opinions of any kind… especially if they are of a political nature. Image courtesy: http://www.zeenews.india.com

Funny isn’t it. We can’t tolerate criticism. We can’t tolerate our country. We can’t tolerate each other. We are now officially intolerant about intolerance. The irony!

There was a sub-section in both the teams that felt that it didn’t matter whether they agreed with either of the actors or not, but that they had a right to their opinion, however they should have been wiser about sharing it and explaining it – given their influence on the public. But as usual, the voice of reason was hardly heard.

Be it the coverage of OROP or the act of returning their awards by writers and the farce that it resulted in after a while, it makes one wonder – ‘where is the voice of reason?’ All of these are just the current revenue creating sound-bytes that will be replaced by the next big thing.

orop_2439112g

Soldiers like this elderly gentleman and my own father, a veteran of the 1971 war are left wondering, if they will ever get to benefit from the OROP. Image courtesy – http://www.TheHindu.com

In the meantime, a few more of our soldiers died, some spies were caught, a few more kids died due to starvation, another woman got raped, the rains continued unabated and almost drowned a city but not it’s spirit, young men and women grappled with unemployment across the globe, somewhere another drought-hit farmer hanged himself because he could not bear the burden of being alive anymore, another bomb exploded somewhere killing innocents, India tried to walk the tight rope between development and protecting the environment, and refugees keep dying in their quest for a life.

chennai-rains

It took a while and a few trending hashtags before the rest of the country and the world woke up to what was happening in Chennai and Cuddalore. Image courtesy – http://www.wirally.com

You know what is intolerant? The fact that these are issues we are not even interested in. We turn our head and heart away. It is somehow easier for us to get emotionally invested in issues with a ‘superstar’ attached to it or when the details are so gruesome that we can’t but be shaken by it! Is it because many of us consider (at some deep subconscious level) even news to be an extension of ‘entertainment?’

I understand the world has been asking a lot of us. Our quota of sympathy and empathy is being dug into like never before. But these are exactly the times when we need to dig in deeper and pause, and consider all the angles and aspects, and then take action.

It is easy to be swept away by the negativity. To believe that the world is going to the dogs – being taken over by intolerant bigots, racists and jihadists. But I live in a country, where my neighbours are British, Australian, Iranian, Emirati, Pakistani and Lebanese. Without fail, no matter what happens wherever, we have always been civil to each other. Kind, polite and friendly. The Iranian and Lebanese kids are good friends, bound by their age and common Middle Eastern heritage. The Emirati gentleman always has an encouraging smile for my daughter when he comes across her dressed in her ‘gi’ as she heads out for her martial arts class. The Pakistani women are lovely ladies full of questions and conversations. The British lady is a proper lady and reminds me of those friendly, grammatically correct version of the British that we often saw on Indian television screens in the 1980s. She always has a wave and smile for all her neighbours. The Australian guy is married to a Lebanese woman and loves to take his little boy swimming. I am not mentioning the Indians, the yuppie mixed-race British couple and my Nepalese security guard.

But I am not a fool. There is intolerance. But I am thinking, and this is a notion-in-development, that as long as the interactions are one-on-one, individual-to-individual, human-to-human, soul-to-soul, we are a pretty decent lot. Nice, warm, friendly and civil.

But when a group of us from one place get together, we start playing games. You versus me. Us versus them. Like in a playground. Kids ganging up against each other. Cliques. Suddenly we are not nice and friendly individuals, but groups… races, countries, minorities and majorities. Maybe it is time we set all this aside and just focused on being a community.

Forget about tolerating each other. How about just accepting each other for exactly who we are?

Happy New Year!

Procra…

What is the distance between point A and B? Pretty short if you decide to take a direct route. But if you are anything like me, it is going to be via D with a stopover at G and a mini break at J. This will be followed by a mini detour to M and then some unexpected delays due to S and T and finally catching up with Z and then hello B!

I started out this day with extremely good intentions of starting work on my magnum opus – well, my first attempt at writing stories. And before you go wow! It is not a novella or a God Of Small Things part Two. But it is a book for small ones. Have finally decided to put down on paper some of the stories I have been filling my daughter’s head with. What are my qualifications for the same? None. Zilch. Nada. I am not even a celeb like Madonna or Geri Halliwell. But I am mum to a 5 year old and I guess that counts for something.

Anyway what I have been trying to say since I started out was that I started out wanting to put down all those ideas on paper. But first I had to squeeze in a visit to my mother’s brother’s wife’s sister’s son’s house (after all family is family). And then I had to wipe all the windows down (ever lived in a house with too many windows and a 5 year old with innumerable best friends?). Then I had to take a nap because I was just so tired. Got up, had tea, pretended to be a horse for my daughter (Arabian steed no less) and then powered up the laptop to write – finally! And then instead of working on the stories, started blogging! Somebody help me!

And now it is too late to open the document because hubby and I are heading to Irish Village with some friends for some much deserved beer (for him) and wine (for me)… not to mention the accompanying fried goodies.

As for point B, I guess I will be saying hello tomorrow for sure.