TWO GIRLS, ONE BALLOON AND MY BLURRED COMPASSION

What I am going to describe and narrate now, is hardly unordinary or uncommon in our lives. In fact it is clichéd, one that you have seen only too often, that has tugged at your heart only too often but something about it has happened only too seldom. And so, I too meekly and merely witnessed it and left nonchalantly.

Tadav ni Paar is the most bustling hangout of any summer evening in Jamnagar.  The patent chaos, crowd and humdrum of Indianness come alive here in all its peaking glory. Ice cream vendors, ice lolly vendors, soda shops, paan shops, toy hawkers, vegetable hawkers, balloon sellers, walkers, picnickers, thinkers,  families, couples, youngsters, grannies, nannies, grand pas, urchins, each one finds his very own space in the periphery of the Lakhota lake and contributes in the immersive sea of animated humanity. This ritualistic congregation is then gently and gelidly fanned by the eternal swaying breeze of my maiden town that delays any homeward departures of its people.

So at eleven o’clock that evening, we placed our orders for Dish Golas with malai and mawa. The super fine crushed ice, soaked in flavoured syrup, topped with a layer of smooth cream and sprinkling of nuts, will have you salivating any minute now. The noisy banter of all our kids was adding rightfully to the chaos, especially my daughter’s who has a gift for crazy antics and incessant blabber. Her five year old bubbly soul, zippy gestures and dancing eyes are beyond any containment. So while my mangy little girl with dishevelled hair was scooping her dish gola greedily, another girl of exactly her height with same lanky limbs came by. Her clothes were mangy too and hair dishevelled, but a spirit of determination set her tiny face. She came closer and both these girls adamantly insisted that I buy the balloon.

One of these was the seller and the other a prospective customer. Child labour is viciously pervasive in our poverty stricken over populated country, and I have seen enough young kids begging or slogging before. But when that girl stood side by side to my girl, it wasn’t possible not to be affected. The inequality in their destinies seemed unduly unfair. It hurt, it bothered. It bothered enough to make me write this story but did it bother enough to bring some change in her destiny? I didn’t cause that inequality apparently, so my responsibility to mitigate it ended with buying that balloon and feeling pity for her. And this is what I did.

   

There aren’t any easy solutions to such egregious national issues, but they aren’t insolvable as well atleast in parts. There are things that I could have done if I would have strongly so desired, but the cumbersomeness of seeing through that change needs tougher resolve. A lot of us are doing or trying to do our bit by giving back to the society or contributing towards a fairer world in big or small ways. And I unwaveringly believe there is enough goodness in the world, which is why it hasn’t toppled just yet. However, it brings me to the question of what is compassion? Is it enough to feel the pain and empathy or sympathy for another being to call myself humane or a real action to that end makes me meaningfully compassionate?

Yeah of course, empty empathy is no good though it is better than a blind eye or a cold shoulder. Yes, empty empathy doesn’t bring change but it evokes thought. And if it sustainably evokes thought than it might evoke an action some day in the simplest or smallest of ways. In fact, only recently we shared our stories on the same theme of “Being Humane” at the Meraki, Chennai. And though, there aren’t any conclusions or ready solutions after such discussions, it’s heartening that we are consciously talking about it or the lack of it. And when there’s a sincere thought, actions do follow sooner or later.

What I couldn’t change that day, I hope I will redeem it someday some place with someone else while that scruffy determined face will be my inspiration.

“APNA TIME AAYEGA” – THREE WORDS THAT GIVE YOU ALL WHAT YOU NEED... SELF BELIEF

There is something about beautiful art in any medium, which is deep, profound, thoughtful even entertaining that has the power to make you pause and think. I loved the movie “Gully Boy” for several reasons. It was laudable direction with sterling performances, it was honest and realistic yet optimistic, but most importantly because it told me, “Apna time aayega”. Everyone wants a little more from life, or so I guess. So when another rejection was on my way, Ranveer Singh’s rap anthem was my resurrection. Rejections are part of life and I don’t feel diminutive writing about it because I still have hope and yeah I still have self belief!

Out of this self belief I am writing another time. There is a scene in Gully Boy which remains etched in my memory for its soul stirring poignancy. Ranveer Singh is in the local train when his eyes fell on the unknown faces of his co-passengers boarded not just on the train but in this lifetime. His thoughts are transfixed on those faces that have no clue of where they are heading, what they are looking for or what aspirations remain buried inside. They are so lost in their quotidian existence, to have no recollection of where they started and where they want to end.  And while it’s not about belittling anyone’s life, nothing can be sadder and scarier than this sort of muted living.

It is never about big dreams or huge ambitions or vast fortunes, it’s always about what you want from your life and for your life. It is inevitably about self relevance. I had similar thoughts that I wrote long ago in my post “So what’s your Excitement Quotient” https://existence-explored.blogspot.com/2016/04/so-whats-your-eq-excitement-quotient.html when I saw the same lacklustreness in the eyes and faces of the people on the road. It troubled my spirit that day and the scene in the movie stirred me now.

Then I saw another very engrossing cinematic production, “Made in Heaven” an Amazon prime series. A very real slice of life but in a completely different context. Here lives have lustre, in fact an overdose of it. Yet that lustre, that fakeness peels off in bits every night from people’s faces. The glamour of designer clothes, the dazzle of wine and soirees, the elitist confidence and the power of wealth, all come together to create the most fascinating life. People in these echelons exactly know what they want from life, and yet when they reach there they want to throw it away or throw up at their own pretentiousness. It’s stark and dark reality, not just portrayal of artistic and fancy melodrama on screen.

In between these two worlds, one of morose mundanity and the other of ripe razzmatazz, there live a billion or more people trying to find their relevant footing in this world. People like you and me, who haven’t quite reached their desired shores, but are swaying over gentle waves of aspirations while guddling breathlessly underwater with responsibilities. But then some take the next step. People who are exiting their comfort zones, giving up plump corporate jobs and the convenience of New York’s neighbourhoods, because they do not simply want to live just because they still breathe.

The need for self relevance, self satisfaction gets much more compelling than the risk of failures or the risk of chasing borrowed dreams. This need is so keenly captured in certain frames of Gully Boy and the climax of Made in Heaven where the low down Tara (the female lead) painstakingly and unscrupulously becomes upper crust, but breaks down at the hollowness she build around her in the process and eventually runs away from it. We see our own reflections and shadows through others or in others which makes our own picture clearer.

The crackling catch phrase “apna time aayega” is self affirming that lets you hold on to your dream whether big or small, that lets you hold on to your self identity. I wouldn’t mind rejected proposals or failed ventures, whether commercial, personal or professional, rather than not have any passion to propose or pursue or a dream to venture or people to love. I am scared of being one of those passengers who doesn’t know why they go where they go and why they get down where they get down. I don’t want to live just because air still fills my breath, but because my breath has a purpose unto me. I want to live life like a gift that I am excited to unwrap.