The last week of this
year could best be described for me as a blogless week as I had not written
anything of note during this period. By now
those who glance (not necessarily read) through my blogs know me to be an
inveterate blogger, blogging @ a blog a week. I am often criticized roundly at
home for using up net tonnage by writing four blogs a month and this is followed
by a homily that I waste my time blogging that no one has either the time or
the inclination to read.( I dare not ask what other thing I can waste my time
on!) Why then blog, you may ask. I will tell you later.
First let me confide that I write because I
like to escape the inevitable boredom of the evening years of my life. Except for the daily routine of moving
aimlessly from one room to another-what Oliver Goldsmith describes in The Vicar of Wakefield as “moving from
the blue bed to the brown” and showing off a pretentious reading of newspapers
and books that have esoteric titles (to prove that in keeping with my age I follow
the geriatric standards of simple living and high thinking), there is no
challenging task for me these days, demanding my focused attention. It is only the creeping fear of cognitive decline that drives
me to thumb the keyboard on the laptop to give me the illusory comfort and
security that my brain is not inactive and I do not have to fear that time when
I would be mindlessly rocking on a chair for people to whisper
Thou hast nor youth nor age
But as it were an after dinner sleep
Dreaming of both (with)
Thoughts of a dry
brain in a dry season.
The fingering on the
keyboard is very much like pinching oneself to know if one is awake or
dreaming. My father used to give us diaries on the first of January to record
for posterity our life’s little moments ( in expectation of his children
becoming celebrities at some point of
time) for a later day Boswell to access them
and write our biography- or make a
Bollywood biopic which happens to be the contemporary trend. With great
enthusiasm year after year we would take
our diary to our desks, open and
inhale the smell of the freshly printed copy,
write down our names, address, telephone numbers etc on the opening page
(as copy-paste technology was not available to transfer the same details
ritually and annually to new diaries). Turning over to the next page, indexing
the date January 1, we would sit and stare at the page fidgeting with the pen, opening
and closing it , not knowing what and how to record a drab, dull and eventless day
that was like any other day. The keyboard exercise of today takes me back to my
childhood days of diary scribbling what can best be described as voice of
inanity and silence. My blog like my diary writing has also been much ado about
nothing. But I have to write for the
reason given above as a bulwark against the onset of Alzheimer. I have also
clung on to the irrational, though comforting belief that the fingering on the
keyboard would be a safeguard against Parkinson’s disease. Hence the constant
thumping as a prophylactic measure against the inevitable mental, physical and
neurological decline that progresses with age.
Now to the question as
to why should I blog and not simply write? The answer is simple. All the words I
write remains forever entrenched on my desktop as there are no takers from
newspaper publishers– not even from the small time editors of the local,
residential colony newsletters. My effort, it seems has been merely one of transferring
the words in my mind on to the desktop. The humiliation of not seeing my words
outside my laptop often made me feel like a worm, slighted, unnoticed and
ignored. All the articles I sent got
incarcerated within the editor’s computer, while I waited for days and
sometimes weeks for my name to appear in print. As the saying goes “even a worm
will turn” the little worm that I am, my patience gave way and I was that I was
unfairly denied some small degree of ego boosting. Never one to aspire for
Nobel or Literary awards, I longed for some little, miniscule recognition.
Gradually wisdom dawned on me that I am not destined for byline fame. I decided
to send mail attachments of my vintage magnum opus to my friends and relatives.
Every day I would open my mail with excitement to receive a comment or a
response-it didn’t matter to me if they were laudatory or critical so long as
they confirmed that my piece had been read. Again I drew blank except for an
occasional polite (and grudging) appreciation (only my elder brother with his
genetic sibling compassion for his hapless younger sister has been an exception).
Like Prufrock I started questioning “Do I dare? Do I dare? Disturb the
universe?” and hence I withdrew from my attempts to attach myself to my family
and friends circle. I took to blogging only because the pageviews recorded by
the blog stats were indicative of at least a few readers.
But of late I have stopped blogging. I have been overcome with ennui
resulting not so much from lack of excitement as from a realization that “there
is nothing to express, nothing from which to express, nothing with which to
express “. Looking around at the turn of political, social and intellectual
happenings here and elsewhere, they all hammer into me the reality of a
generational change and divide between my perception and that of the new age
men and women. I am once again reminded of the Prufrockian confession “I grow
old, I grow old” and I dare not disturb the universe with my bewilderment and
limited understanding of what is happening around me.
For example, I am an ignoramus about emerging technologies, specially the
information systems. The 2G, 3G, 4G systems that young people nonchalantly talk
about reveal the vacuity in my head regarding mobile communication. I feel like
Alice in wonderland in a consumer electronics store as I do not know what an Android phone is, what is GB, GSM, MP,
What’s APP etc as the girl in the shop reels off the data asking me to choose.
It is the same story with computers, laptops, I pads and I phones. Embarrassed
and red-faced, I tell the shop assistant that I will return after mulling over
the different brands and slink home quietly to be content with my basic Nokia
2G.
So am I unfamiliar with the modern lingo- both in English and Hindi and
wonder when stand-up comedians make people hysterical. I now find that to seek
modesty in women is to be prudish and ancient and it is wiser to enjoy the
beautiful and semi nude exposure of women standing, sitting or reclining
alongside suited- booted fully clothed men if one wants to be counted among the
liberated women. Like the Star TV ad it has
to be Naye Soch for Purane Women.
(new thoughts for ancient women).
I had in my younger days prided on
being modern in my outlook, advocating freedom of thought and expression,
freedom to live as one wishes to without being fettered, freedom to wear as one
likes, freedom to do without being disciplined but in everything one drew a
lakshman rekha- this far and no farther. But now freedom has assumed greater
overtones of simply being a non-conformist and a rebel against all forms of
discipline. “I know I know it all” is the modern mantra. The more the modern
Generation (X,Y or Z)strut about with an omniscient look, I recede into my hole of ignorance. This ia selfie-centric age as opposed to what
we had been taught namely to view narcissism as a personality disorder. The new
age defines knowledge as a mix of skills
and personality development with academics receding into the background, while
the post independence generation that I belong to laid great emphasis only on
studies. I have always been shy of socializing as that was never a part of my
education and upbringing. Thus I feel a loner wholly out of place when it comes
to a party, where one has to indulge in small talk. Our ancient training in
socially acceptable behavior- no loud talking, no roaring laughter, no overt
expressions of one’s feelings etc is at odds with the modern life of gay
abandon, unrestricted by prescriptive codes of conduct. I withdraw into my
shelter of silence as my vocal chords, possibly due to unused, refuse to raise
the pitch and share the loud laughter with others. Thus the dilemma as to what I can write/blog
on the social front without being misunderstood as the ramblings of an
antediluvian mind.
As for politics it is
pure dramebazz- theatricality all through. This started a few months before the
last elections and it continues unabated. The ruling party with a massive
majority had played drama to the hilt promising the moon to the voters which
have turned out to be empty promises as they are yet to be redeemed. The slogan “Maximum governance, minimum
government” is on the reverse. Prices have not come down at the consumers
level (no decline in the CPI) while the ruling party flaunts WPI as being on
the wane. A continuous theatre is enacted in the Parliament between the Opposition(Congress)
and the ruling party(BPJ). The opposition of yesterday stalled the Parliament
and today’s opposition does the same in retaliation. Winning an election
depends on the power to destabilize the ruling government even if this means
putting spokes in the wheel of development. The Congress has no alternative
plan to offer while the ruling BJP without acknowledging continues the earlier
plan of Congress except for a change in the nomenclature of the schemes. One is
startled to listen to the bitter and acrimonious exchanges between the two
national parties on issues that do not move forward the nation’s development
agenda. Love Jihadi, Beef ban, Ram Mandir, Ghar wapsi, dethronement and replacement of icons and bitter attack of all erstwhile leaders of
the Congress are met by suit-boot sarkar, awards wapsi, rejection
of reform proposals by the ruling government even if they are nothing
but an unacknowledged endorsement of the earlier government) and stalling the
Parliament for issues that have no bearing on vital problems besetting the
nation. The Parliament has come to resemble the Theatre of the Absurd where
nothing is expressed, nothing is transacted nothing is passed except empty
words of charge and counter charge, thereby revealing the bankruptcy of ideas Lok
Sabha seats has nothing to offer while the BJP has no strategy to implement
their poll promises. The BJP sneers at the Congress for making it inherit all
the ills and misfortunes (forgetting that it had come to power to wipe the slate
clean) while the Congress heckles the BJP for not fulfilling its promises. The
Congress, the main opposition should
have functioned as a shadow cabinet and come out with a blueprint to move the
nation forward beyond shallowness, superficiality and vacuity. The present trend is to punch with arrogance
and indulge in verbal duel to score who shouts the loudest. The Media thriving
on sensational stories devote most of their prime time about celebrity crimes besides acting as a judge
and prosecutor of all those whose corruption cases have still to reach the
court doors. Politics has become murky and the media murkier and we have shown
the way to the likes of Donald Trump to
follow “no holds barred” debates with no restraint of hitting below the belt” when
the ambitious goal is to get to the top spot. At least in this one respect, India
has been a trend setter showing how democracy can work through derailment of
democracy. The toss is between autocracy
masking as democracy and democracy degenerating into puerility and immaturity.
So what do I write on political issues?
Even globally there is an attempt at destabilization of democracy by a
large number of terrorist groups whose recruits are driven by mercenary gains
rather than any belief or ideology. The foreign recruits to IS show how home
grown terrorists wield guns over their own fellow citizens for the lucre that
it fetches them. Everywhere in the name of people’s movement there is uprising
and chaos and an assault on any rule of law. Though this is not a new
phenomenon of the 21st Century, the political mayhem we see today
where logic, rationality, good sense humaneness are subverted for selfish gains
and dominance is more terrifying. This is because non state actors have quicker
access than even the State to nuclear and chemical weapons, not to speak of A
47 rifles and other deadly fire weapons. I was born during the onset of World
War II and when I went to England thirty years later I learnt about the Nazi
cruelty to the Jews and the devastation caused by the War which heralded the
use of atomic weapons. Humanity had
found itself put back into a state of momentary barbarism; a universal war of devastation had
ruined not only world economy, commerce and industry but also human bonding and
relationship. But today’s lethal weapons are not just in the hands of the State;
it is plenty available with everyone who desires to set score by his /her
fellow being. Violence at personal, professional, national global levels
besides gender violence and family violence make news in a big way. Again the
same question: Where do I come in with my blogs that will make a plea for
restoration of balance and peace, tolerance and humaneness, bonding and
cultivation of humanity? I know for certain that there will be no takers as
these values are reckoned as ancient dharmic ideals good for preaching and not
for practice. With the focus shifting to consumerism, materialism and easy
access to gain more money, scholarship and the emergence of new ideas have
taken a backseat. In this Post-Idea age what can I write about without sounding
priggish and pedantic.
Thus I find myself in a situation
where my writings will at best reflect my apprehensions, fears and my
helplessness. It will also highlight the generational divide, in respect of
ideas thoughts, perceptions, attitudes and above all modern use of
jargons. The new age dilemma is not so
much “to read or not to read” but ‘to
write or not to write”. The silence of my readers has been suggestive of their
response "Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer” and hence I decided to hang my blogger boot.
But then the question of how to occupy my time
before time stops, how to keep my brain
oiled and not allow it to peter and rust, how to stem the onset of any kind of
mentally debilitating illness – all these annoying worries kept cropping up. I
had no answer and the fear of timelessness of time made me return to thumping
and posting my blog. So for now, it is
back to blogging till such time I discover an alternative to it.
