To laugh or to frown – today’s Hamlettian dilemma
I have grown into an
inveterate nerd thumping at my laptop to write my blogs. Many of my friends ask
me as to why do I write@ a blog a day? For whose benefit do I blog? Are there any
readers for my blogs? I always mumble in
reply that there may be a handful- those septuagenarians like me who have
nothing to do and who idly sit in front of their computers and keep fiddling at
the blog section. Frankly it does not bother me if no one reads them because
for me a blog a day keeps my blues away. At my age when I can no longer engage with a
younger world- a world full of beans where my services will be frowned upon as
obsolete- I have to keep myself mentally alive till I receive my death warrant.
My writing is thus auto therapeutic. I am not like the modern day Selfies who
take their own pictures, mainly intended to present a flattering image of
themselves and post them over the social media expecting appreciation in
response. I post my blogs not to receive comments-leave aside appreciation, but only to express myself
through words that otherwise lie too
deep for others sight. I am neither a syndicated columnist nor a celebrity
whose words people love to hang on to and so sharing my thoughts on newspapers
and newsmagazines is not for me. Blog is my own creation and to indulge in it
is a freedom I enjoy and loathe to be restrained. Even if people call me ‘nerd’
in the sense of being overtly obsessive and socially impaired, I am not unduly
disturbed because I know blog is the lifeline to my current un-useful existence
and it provides me the armour to fight
the onset of Alzheimer.
The truth is my blogs fetch no response except
from my siblings who are fond of me and from a couple of very close friends who
share with me a love for English language and literature plus the latitude
English offers for intellectual humour and satire. Prior to the general elections
that concluded four months back, I received more responses to my political
blogs where I was critical of the two main contesting parties. I spared neither
the Congress for its lackluster pusillanimity and pedestrian campaign nor the
BJP for its aggressive ridicule and personalized venom -soaked attacks on its
opponents. My friends liked my punch with words and enjoyed those satirical
blogs harmless in their thrust, but truthful in their details and aimed at
politicians of all hues. But of late, I find even this small fan club of mine is
seeking burrows to hide in, fearing reprisal for being the recipients of blogs
that may contain an undercurrent of criticism of the party in power. They request me to delete such blogs or at
least delete their names from the list of addressees I mail my blogs to. Often
when they meet me privately they caution me against my folly of blogging that
may send me to Tihar jail. If it was Bangalore Jail, I would not mind it now as
I will have the company of Amma.
I know that Indians as
a race are incapable of much laughter and that too at their own expense. Our
sense of humour is zilch and the only laughter one hears is limited to senior
citizens and some health freaks in the park indulging in loud laughter as a
means to artificially support their physical and emotional health. Yet another
outlet for laughter is the mindless cheap jokes on the idiot box to covertly
proclaim that we, the audience are not the butt of that ridicule.
We are serious, we need
no humour, we are Indians. I recall an Englishman asking a friend of mine why
Indians knit their brows in a permanent frown. He was quick witted to answer
that since the bright Sun shines throughout the most part of the year in India,
our developing a frown is a natural evolutionary process. Maybe this can be one of the reasons for the
singular lack of humour in us. It has been dinned into our ears from our childhood
that too much laughter will be followed by too much sorrow. We were told that
it was bad etiquette to break into a guffaw in public places. There were many
such logical reasons given to us as to why we should always retain pursed lips.
When I first read Thomas Hardy’s novel Far
from the Madding Crowd, I was fascinated by his opening sentence about
Gabriel Oak; “When Farmer Oak smiled, the corners of his mouth spread till they
were within an unimportant distance of his ears, his eyes were reduced to
chinks, and diverging wrinkles appeared round them, extending upon his
countenance like the rays in a rudimentary sketch of the rising sun.” I used to
stand before the mirror and smile like Gabriel Oak to see how far the corners
of my lips extended. This was the only way I could smile as smile and laughter
were taboos for us.
But in this process, we,
Indians have failed to discriminate between satire, lampoon and wit. Satire is a genre of literature
and performing
arts, in which vices, follies, abuses, and shortcomings are held up
to ridicule, ideally with the intent of bringing
improvement. It is usually meant to
be humorous and its greater purpose is often constructive social or
political criticism. Lampoon on the other hand is satire laced with
ridicule. It is mocking, contemptuous and insulting. Wit is used by both satire
and lampoon as a means to make a clever humorous
effect by raising unexpected associations between contrasting
or disparate words
or ideas. In the case of satire, wit is genteel,
elegant and intellectual while in a lampoon, it is coarse, vulgar and
scornful. Jonathan Swift said that: “Satire
is a sort of glass, wherein
beholders do generally
discover everybody's face but their own". Lampoon is meant to mock and trivialize issues and
therefore it ends up wounding its target. A lampoon is thus different from satire and
its wit is less humorous and more wounding than that of a satire. Erma Bombeck says “There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain,
comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.”Unfortunately we in India do not differentiate the two genres and end
up mixing one for the other.
Coming to my blog, I am not a satirist of the Swiftian kind. I have no talent for lampoon, having been
brought up in almost a puritanical home where one cannot whisper a tabooed
word. I have written songs in imitation of Eliot’s Prufrock, Antony’s funeral
oration in Julius Caesar, and our own Mera Jhoota hai Japaani - more in a light
hearted vein based on daily dose of news events . My objective has been –to adapt
Khushwant Singh’s Phrase- “ malice towards none, chuckling towards all”
to make us laugh at ourselves. But since
our ruling party- as I am given to understand- is a bunch of holy cows,- I dare
not write anything that may be witty at their expense. So I have been advised by
my well wishers not to write or at least not to send such blogs to their mail
box lest at 75, I may have to look at the prison bars and relearn counting.
Though everyone means well by me, I wonder if I should stay away from
blogging on matters that make daily sensational news headlines. The Media is
cautious and lampoons only those who are not the new Moguls. They can lampoon
Jaylalitha( now that she is in Jail) as “Jail-lalitha.
But poor and insignificant mortals like me cannot raise my fingers to thump
words that may ruffle the feathers of those in the seat of power. I learn that
even the great anchor Rajdeep Sardesai has been hecked and manhandled because
he provided an opportunity to the protesters at the Modi-son square to speak
into his microphone.
I do not know if I should cease to blog till such time we Indians come of
age to learn to laugh at ourselves. But that is a distant possibility and with
age creeping on me, I do not have much time to wait. Do I take the plunge or do
I stay off the laptop? A Hamlettian dilemma, but some instinct within tells me
to keep going – if not for anything else, at least to test the waters and see
if humour can be injected into the humdrum life that we lead with all the seriousness
at our command.
No comments:
Post a Comment