To be or not to be..

To be or not to be is one of the most famous quotes by William Shakespeare which dwells on life and death..but here I am talking about the essence of a person and his apparent death in the process of socialization.

As the famous saying goes, we all are a social animal. And it’s while socializing that we learn to identify ourselves with others and develop a sense of belonging with them, which, as a matter of fact, is most essential to human existence. Most importantly, society makes us discover our own self, for it’s only with respect to others that we can know ourselves and not in isolation.

But where society is kind enough to help us in discovering ourselves, it’s equally cruel towards the person’s individuality.

We all have two aspects to ourselves. The real self, what we are in core and which is usually hidden from others; and the expected self, which is the virtual us made out of combinations of traits that are expected of us by the society.

Now, the ultimate dilemma is whether to be what we actually are or leave our identity within the control of those who are not being themselves either.

It might sound like an easy choice, but each option has its own line of pros and cons.

People are often found saying “be what you are” but do they actually accept others in their true self? Don’t we all have conditions before accepting another person’s company?

Our true self is not always in accord with others’ expectations and neither are others that tolerating towards the differences. And no matter how big the world is, finding like minded people isn’t an easy task.

So what does one do? Settle with the disapproval or find ways to be accepted, most common and convenient, by behavior modification, which could be for good but bad as well.

So, when behavior modification seems like the most convenient way to be accepted and feel belonged, whatever happens to our true self?

Our thoughts, ideas, beliefs and behavior are modified to suit the expectations of others and we distance ourselves from the person we are. But then, doesn’t one’s own thoughts and belief’s intervene with the new formed ones, which the person doesn’t even identify with? Doesn’t that clash in two sets of beliefs create a chaos? And how does one decide upon which way to behave in a given situation?

To add to the misery, what happens when the company changes? The expectations change. And so the behavior changes again..

So should a person keep modifying himself according to his company? Convenient?

To think of the other side, wearing a fake identity seems like a convenient idea. It at least provides a person with a social circle; people to fall back on in times of need, emotional satisfaction; however, weak and transient it be. And I think, the mere illusion of having supportive people around gives enough strength to move on in life, cross the hurdles life throws in one’s way and saves one from the haunting loneliness.

So which mode of life does one choose? Accept oneself and be rejected or reject the own self and be accepted? Live peacefully with oneself or constantly fear loss because of fakeness? Have a few but true people for company or a huge crowd which would probably disappear when problem comes?

Should a person finally take off the mask worn as a result of socialization and be one with himself or continue to silently weep behind the different masks?

So, I guess, the question.. To be or not to be..?? still remains unanswered.

TUMULTUOUS MORNINGS

The hour long drive to college every morning is a boring routine. Once in the cab, I draw in the curtains and withdraw myself to a book or take a quick nap.

But one day, averse to the idea of reading or sleeping, I looked through the window to see what the roads had in store for me. And I found a beautiful concoction of emotions in every movement and intent of the people on the road. In one of the shacks of the squatters’ right behind the lane of the opulent houses, I saw a man, a father, dressing his young son for school. Since the child invariably stood on a rickshaw everyday while his father dressed him up I assumed that the man is a rickshaw puller and perhaps even drops his kid to school on the same modest vehicle. When I saw that ineffable display of affection, I was reminded of the time I had just spent at home. It’s almost the same situation, my mother wakes us up, and we rise from our bed whining and sleepy, and wish it was a weekend so that we could sleep for longer. But what struck me was the stark difference in the notion of school for us and that poor boy. School is a matter of lifestyle for us; our schools are in accord with our socio-economic status, our school bags and other school paraphernalia are of the fanciest brand available in the market and with school we usually mean friends and sadistic teachers. Learning is a distant thought and we are never thankful to our parents for the opportunity. And for that poor boy, education is the best present his parents could ever pamper him with. The love of the man for his son and his aspiration to educate his child was evident on his face. It left me wondering that how beautiful the father-son relationship must they be sharing. The father must be working throughout the day, through all the harsh weathers; bearing the searing sun to the heavy rains and freezing winters, only to earn some money to feed his offspring and see him grow into an educated man.

I saw a similar zeal for learning in our servant’s son. He longed for an extortionately priced toy and asked his father to buy him the coveted toy. The servant agreed on buying the toy but also mentioned that he will get it at the expense of his school. So the boy had to choose between play and education, and he carefully chose school. My eyes watered at seeing how the small child compromised his toy for school.

Other experiences of sneak peek are those of a mother holding on to a younger child and letting her older child walk under her protective gaze while she goes to drop them off to school, an overprotective father accompanying his daughter to school, few fathers driving their kids to school in their luxurious cars, few on bikes with the kid cautiously holding on to his guardian and many a times sleeping, some on cycles and few more on their rickety rickshaws.

Apart from the school going group, there are a myriad of people heading for their work with a distinct expression on each face. While some people rant and honk incessantly because of the traffic, some prefer to stay calm and enjoy the music; also while some catch up with the people traveling along with them, some non-driving ones catch up with the news of the day. Amidst them all, you’ll find a couple of people who’ll actually venture into loosening the traffic jam for the traffic regulators are nowhere to be found. Along with all these are some cyclists who literally lift up their cycles and dodge through the traffic, those on motorcycles don’t desist from riding them up to the footpath to cross the jam, poor are the ones stuck in four wheelers, for nobody has the strength to lift them. Isn’t it funny to lift your vehicle and walk? What are vehicles for otherwise?

Not to forget, my own cab is a terror on the road. The driver drives like crazy, undeterred by the traffic, furiously drives past every vehicle. We keep our fingers crossed and flinch when he curses somebody for coming in his way. He presumes it to be his prerogative to rage when somebody is hit, even if it’s his fault.

Now when we talk of the roads, especially in India, we cannot leave buses. It’s a marvel on the road. A bus is barely seen with people sitting or standing in a civilized manner. It always stuffs in more people than it should accommodate. One can see people huddled together, jutting out from the door and holding on to a small part of the bus.

And with such whirligig of activities comes an end to a beautiful morning to welcome the warm afternoon.

Unprobable dream

It happened like a distant dream,
subtle and serene.
made me believe in what was a mere illusion,
fated to turn me woebegone and in deep confusion.
In what was a visceral belief,
I found great relief.
However short-lived the bliss be,
the span would be the most cherishable for me.
My heart now cries,
coz of all the decieving lies.
And I wonder why,
How I could rely,
On what was nothing
but an Unprobable dream.

Gesture

Just when I was wondering whether the flames of love are still alive between my parents, that too after 20 yrs of their marriage, they dispelled my doubts.
Other than taking care of dad, meeting his needs even before he mentions, handling him in his sulky self, complying with his likes and dislikes; I also see mom religiously calling up dad every evening to ask him about his time of return and if he has any preferences for dinner. I found it monotonous. I was also wondering that how precise and banal the conversations could become after spending two decades together.
After brooding over the dying flames, I thought that mom’s call to dad was not a routine but a gesture to assure dad that she is waiting for him back home. But while I was marveling at that thought, I wondered if dad reciprocated. Or did he even acknowledge it?
Unlike other days, today; mom felt asleep in the evening, so could not call dad.
And dad called.
On calling up, he promptly asked her ‘wasn’t she supposed to call him?’
Mom’s smile that followed his call was one I’ve never seen her in ever before.
It was the one which nothing but only her husband’s love could bring to her face.
And that was it.
Dad’s call and mom’s blush was suffice to rid me off of all the skepticism.

waiting to be taken over

After the tumultuous day in college and a relaxed evening at home, when I lie in my bed to be taken over by sleep, I keep waiting. I close my eyes to lose myself to a world of darkness and the one without any thoughts fluttering around so as to calm myself and rejuvenate. But if only it could happen. I shut myself off from the outside world but the world inside me insidiously takes over me in the form of random thoughts. I tried my best to coax these shamelessly creeping thoughts away as to give way to calmness to sweep me away. But haplessly they return every night to pester me and keep me from sleeping. I fought with those evil thoughts for several nights before I decided to confront them. I could not take the constantly nagging glimpses anymore. And I took the plunge.
I waited that night for them to shoot and I was ready to deal with them all one by one.
Through all the previous nights I kept warding them off without paying any heed to them but when I finally did, I realized how resentful I was from myself. How unhappy and unsatisfied I was from my own self. I never acknowledged the long list of questions I had to answer for myself. They never permeated in my conscious being, but reminded me of their existence and their urgency to be resolved when I wanted to be unconscious.
While I was confronting them I realized their relevance. They were no devils to inflict me sleepless nights. Instead they were friendly enough to help me resolve conflicts within myself and in my day-to-day life. Now that am not bothered with any such obnoxious glimpses I am easily swept away in the heaven of peace and serenity away from the bustle of my mind.
Finally after the whole traumatic episode inflicted with restless nights I bow down to the efficacy of the divine process of introspection.

I do not know how many of you will be able to understand what am talking about. But those hailing from Delhi and Faridabad might have heard about the Surajkund crafts mela which brings together different colours of India and puts forward a beautiful culmination of culture and traditions which prevail in our own country.

I have been wintnessing the mela for past 10 years without a miss, and has now become a festival for my family. We hold it so close to our heart that we anticipate its glory in the next year the moment we attend the one unfolding that year.

We'd been to see it yesterday, though it stays till 14th feb.I had to take an off from college just to avoid the excess crowd in weekend. I entered the celebration with great fervour but came out disappointed.

For some reason, the magic that it earlier had was missing.

Or perhaps I ecpected too much.