Saturday 27 June 2015

Maskless

Haven't you ever been fascinated by a child? 

A child has virtually no fear in the world. He is most innocent, untouched and brazen. He does not take into account the feelings or the reaction of the person he is speaking to. He hates shamelessly, questions shamelessly, acts shamelessly and loves shamelessly. He isn't bound by society's etiquette and morals obligations. He is the speaker of unfiltered, unbiased, pure opinion. Unfortunately this pure opinion is perhaps the most virulent of all weapons. Of course people tend to ignore these remarks from a child. He is still young, so let him think freely and act freely.

 But as the child grows he notices how his words can be injurious. He is made to see that his opinion is harmful to others. He is lovingly told to not say such things. Two years later, he is sternly asked to apologize. Two years more, and he will get an earful about how he must think about others' feelings. Another two years, and he will be hated and abused. The child now comes to realize that his innate form that was adored and taken passively is not acceptable to those all around him. And try as we might, man is a social animal and we cannot live without a society. So the child weaves himself a mask.

 It will not be perfect at first. But slowly it is acclimated to the demands of the society. His feelings and his thoughts, whatever they may be underneath, are to be hidden behind this mask. 

Every day we put on this mask. Each one of us has their own mask. Some do not cover fully what they hide, while some may be so intricate that you fail to even guess  what lies beneath. Sometimes we get carried away with our emotions and do not wear this mask properly. Some people purposefully design their masks in sharp contrast to what they cover. Some people get fed up and stop wearing these masks. Such people are deemed eccentric at the very least. Such people become indifferent to society and walk around with their naked faces, proud of who they are. They may be loved, they may be laughed at, they may be resented or they may be scorned. But all of us envy them.

 Because this mask is nothing but a dead-weight; pulling us down, holding us back and slowly stifling us. We groan and squirm underneath but the mask doesn't let anyone see us. So we seek respites, a break from this drudgery, a fresh breath of air. We try to find people, with whom we are not afraid to take off our masks just an inch or so and perhaps more. But every person is different and does not agree with each other's stark nakedness. We can break away a part of our mask when we are with them, but cannot take it off altogether for we fear that we will lose them. 


All of us need to find a person with whom we can take of our masks completely and be ourselves. With whom every moment is a relief and a vacation from the artificial reality of the world. We are often distracted by those whose masks look good. But your true counterpart in this world is the one who accepts your innate form and whose innate self you accept. One with whom you can dispose of your mask and not be afraid to express your innermost thoughts and feelings. One whose unmasked form is not a copy of yours, but is the perfect balance to your goods and evils. 


Friends, you can take any great man in the history of this world and you will find that they are all good in some ways and bad in some ways. But the one thing they will have in common is that they have completely accepted their own innate nature. And despite their evils you too will respect them because they are the ones who understood their own form, honed it, polished it and actualized their true being. And that is the very purpose of this life. 

We have become so busy shaping our masks and have been wearing it for so long that we have forgotten what we look like underneath. We cannot understand ourselves. But that is what must be done. You should be able to take off your mask go in front of the mirror and know all the beauties and scars perfectly. For only then can you actualize your self and do your role in the world.

And only the one who can perfect his own self can walk in the society maskless.



~Sanchit

Monday 1 June 2015

I say WhatsApp way too many times in this one...


Hello Writer #1 (Sushrut) here, farting back to life. I just do this for spiritual reasons. Enjoy this semi-rant I wrote a while back.

Fun Fact: if you drop a large bowl on your soooooo-2014 smartphone sans the gorilla glass the screen will crack. In my case the screen became unresponsive and the cost of repair was deemed too much. Anyway after contemplating about which phone would replace this one, I began to think about why I needed the phone anyway.[Don’t get me wrong, I'm not one of those people who think technology is a waste of time and distracts us from the truth and success and money and whatnot. Everybody has ways and means to effectively “waste” their time. The key is to enjoy whatever you’re doing causing no damage (or minimal damage) to your fellow humans.] Getting back to the topic, I concluded that the major reason I “needed” a phone was WhatsApp.
 This amazing messenger app allows you to share racist/ sexist jokes instantly with your loved ones or bitch about your larger group of friends with your smaller group of friends. Basically stuff that was previously reserved for your family reunions or birthday parties is now accessible to you at the click of a button 24/7. There is an obvious danger of a burn-out, to the point where you can resent the sheer existence of a person due to their insistence on sharing pictures of cats. In my case, there is one big college group where the hard-working nerds would lovingly post all time tables and notifications with great tenacity and the too-cool-for-school humans would shower praise with heaps of emoticons and often swear words (eg I fucking luv u ;) :D ;) XD J :D ;* :D)  Although the group was majorly useful for people who did not want get off their ass that day or any day viz-a-viz me, it was also often WRONGLY confused for a social hub to interact with people you have nothing in common with apart from a mutual want of killing time. All-in-all the time that you save checking time-tables or other details is ultimately wasted in 3000 message-volleys about nothing in particular.

 Till this point, I could justify the use of WhatsApp. Then come the friends groups and family groups which I will avoid talking about due to risk of this turning into an academic paper. Moving onto the personal chats (referring to long conversations I have with people through this medium), it is important to mention who I am and how I interact with people. As a teenager living in a city who went to an English-medium school, I am most comfortable with English in terms of reading, writing and comprehension whereas conversation is much easier in my mother tongue (The irony is that I wouldn’t be able write this article in Marathi, my so called mother tongue).This means that conversation on WhatsApp is almost exclusively in English peppered with words from my mother tongue and real-life conversation is often the opposite. This is why I like to think of WhatsApp as the complete opposite of human social interaction. Personally, social interactions are something I like to avoid but WhatsApp offers a dangerously deceptive substitute. My conversations on WhatsApp can be summed up by “annoyed teenaged boy with issues that are the Indian substitute of white-boy problems uses dialogues he heard in Hollywood movies to charm or impress people he doesn’t even know properly”.

 This brings me to my next point, what WhatsApp has done for me is given me templates of what to say on what occasion. So if want to express my feelings for a person, I just whip out an excerpt from a Hollywood rom-com (or its Bollywood “homage”) that I have literally grown-up watching and have by-heart. Or perhaps I am trying to sound bad-ass, just type out a line from ‘Fight Club’ and I’m golden. This happens subconsciously but has a huge impact of what I think of myself and what my peers think of me. What I’m trying to say is what I say on WhatsApp is very different from what I experience. That’s not to say that the influence of movies and the internet on me is negligible in any way but I do feel that WhatsApp segregates a large part of my being, my roots and creates a pseudo-personality of sorts. In hindsight, half the things I say on WhatsApp are just me para-phrasing movies and books which is not who I am in person. Call me crazy, but WhatsApp will ruin any relationship you have due to its large disparity with real life, if of course you rely on it too much. 

 Post-Script (I have no idea how these work): If it’s worth anything, the writer would like to point that three months after writing the article he is back and extremely happy on WhatsApp and up to his similar antics. Let’s just file this under the epic banter section since I may have wasted a few minutes of your life. You were probably going to spend them on WhatsApp anyway. Peace.  

Weltschmerz

Ahoy there, maties! 

I am Zinnia aka Writer #2. Pleased to make your virtual acquaintance. 

Like I said in my pathetic attempt at a funny intro, I don't do intros. Correction, I can't do intros. 

I write. End of story. 

To start with, here's the most serious thing I've ever written. Enjoy, because everything else henceforth is going to be about as serious as a chimpanzee with a bow-tie. 

Weltschmerz
Sadness is rather an alien feeling to me. I think my brain is so habituated to rainbows and giddiness that it doesn’t quite know what to do when the rainbows give way to occasional dark clouds. I think of it as a tug.
Sadness is that inexplicable tug at your heartstrings when you know everything’s not hunky-dory.
That tug when you look at the wet, bedraggled sparrow on your windowsill and realize just how sad his eyes are.
That tug when you listen to the most heart wrenching songs you can dig out and convince yourself that you’re an 80’s tragedy star.
That tug when you think of how utterly carefree your life was mere weeks ago.
That tug when the book you’re reading pokes and prods at your soul and then abruptly finishes without even a decent goodbye.
That tug when your parents smile at you even after you have royally screwed up and you want to smile back but your stupid lips refuse to listen and spout some poison instead.
That tug when you see a wrinkled old man tickling a giggling baby girl at the bus stop and hide your tears behind your oversized sunglasses all the way to college, imagining your dadu nudging your side and telling you to “chin up, bordibhai, I know you’ll make it,”
That tug when you’re laughing so hard you think you may have burst a lung or two and your best friend randomly asks you what the meaning of life is and you falter—blink slowly, and then you both come to the conclusion that none of you really have the foggiest.
That tug when you’re lying on your back on a trampoline on a white sand beach next to a river, trying to decipher the constellations above—and you just cannot handle how beautiful life can be, sometimes.
That tug when you look up the lyrics of a painfully accurate song you’ve been playing on repeat for the last hour and a half and decide that the artist had been spying on you when he wrote it.
That tug when you realize that there are at least five and a half people in this world who would do absolutely anything for you and you wonder what you ever did so right.
That tug when you remember the boy with the crooked smile and golden heart and just know that it was never meant to be.
That tug when you come to terms with the fact that life as you know it is going to change very soon yet you desperately want to cling on to the slowly disintegrating strands but you know you can’t and so you curse yourself for being such an insufferable drama queen and hang on tighter.
That tug when you’re yearning for something but you don’t know what it is so you yearn for it anyway, hoping it’ll find its way to you someday.
That tug when you hug someone goodbye and suddenly grasp that it may be the last time you ever see them and then you grasp them tighter and breathe them in and tuck their scent into a corner of your heart.
That tug when you look at a lonely cloud shaped like a bent marshmallow and your friend remarks that marshmallows are the saddest things ever because they end up in an awkward broken state in people’s stomachs and you agree but you don’t want to because, goddammit, the world is too much already without marshmallows being sad too.
That tug when you fully comprehend just how many people in this world go to bed with empty, broken stomachs and look at your bowlful of maggi and wish there could be a free Maggi dispensing machine in every echoing alleyway of this hungry planet.
That tug when you look at the photo of a little kid surrendering to a camera she thinks is a gun and all you want to do is pull her close and cry and tell her that everything’s gonna be alright but you know it won’t so you just hit the share button, wipe that pointless tear away and scroll down.
That tug when you visit a home for the mentally retarded on your birthday and go around distributing samosas but all they want to do is shake your hand, beaming, and wish you a Happy Birthday and all you can do is think of the last time you called someone a retard.
That tug when you’re all prepped for a shopping spree and a little boy selling balloons comes up to you and tugs your sleeve and you finger the notes in your pocket and give him the one with the least denomination but look at him—he looks like you just gave him a million dollars!
That tug when you realize the world is full to brimming with broken things and try as you might, you cannot fix all of them because you’re probably a bit broken yourself.
That tug when you’re writing about sadness and your fingers have grimly decided that the list should never end and there’s a lump the size of Pluto in your throat and your nose burns and your heart won’t stop throbbing and the words are becoming blurrier by the word and you just…can’t…breathe
And that’s when you feel the Weltschmerz.


Weltschmerz: (n) sadness or melancholy at the evils of the world; world-weariness;
                             (literally) world pain;




Did you feel the tug? 
Here's hoping you did,

~Zinnia