Stars in the Sky
Two days ago, after a small-scale celebration of my dad’s 75th birthday, I had to drop my sister and my five-year-old niece Aarushi to my sister’s in-laws’ place. Sitting behind me on the scooter my niece looked at the sky and asked her mother, “Amma, how come there are so many stars in the sky?”
Living in a polluted city, though she has seen stars, it is beyond her imagination that there are countless stars in the sky. From countable dots in the sky, as seen in the city where they live, suddenly in our small town the stars became innumerable scattered pearls shining brightly… That which is natural appeared unnatural to her and that which should have caused wonderment puzzled her.
As I continued to drive the scooter I wondered if this is what we have done to ourselves in a bigger way… The natural potential of human free will, the expanse of human imagination, the depth of human hearts, the possibility of creative existence– have they all been lost sight of because of the polluted ways of life orchestrated by profit-hungry economic systems that reduce humans to consumers and by politics of power which reduces humans to identities. Have we limited the possibilities of the human world so much that when we occasionally catch a small glimpse of the width and depth of life-affirmative energies, actions, and gestures, they puzzle us and cause a kind of disbelief? The natural appears unnatural and the richness and beauty of human life are looked at with suspicion.
I am still wondering how many stars are there in the sky and how many I have lost sight of.
Rebuilding Relationships
Aarushi, my five-year-old niece, asked me to read her the storybook ‘Best Friends, a book she borrowed from her school library. The story ‘Best Friends’ is about two Hippos named Keesha and Ebenezeer.
One day, in the story, Keesha’s knicker gets torn and is gifted a colorful handmade knicker by Ebenezeer. Keesha accepts it happily. The next day when she wears it to school, she finds Ebenezeer also wearing a similar knicker. He had tailored a similar knicker for him as well. Seeing both wearing colorful knickers other hippos laugh at them. It doesn’t impact Ebenezeer but does embarrass Keesha. She returns the gift to Ebenezeer. Hurt by this act, Ebenezeer doesn’t go to school the next day. Keesha realized why and went to meet Ebenezer at his home. But he did not open the door. Keesha wrote an apology letter to Ebenezeer and the next day they both wore their colorful knickers again. The story ends by saying Keesha cared more for friendship.
What really moved me is how the story resolves the issue. Keesha not just realizes her mistake and makes an effort to reach out to Ebenezeer, but also apologizes genuinely, and more importantly, repairs the damage exactly where it is broken. She wearing the colourful knicker is not a result of mending things, but an act towards mending things.
What I’ve experienced & witnessed, in many & also myself, is the inability to do the last bit- attending to the wound in its exact place. Many of us do realize the hurt caused, & do feel apologetic too. But we fail/ fall short of expressing genuine apology & cementing the exact place where things have cracked. Instead, we do some compensatory work, which is good, but probably not sufficient.
Recently someone told me that the one who causes wounds cannot cure it. I said I don’t agree. Though I had read such statements earlier (and disagreed every time), nobody had ever told those words to me. When someone did tell me, I couldn’t tell them why I disagreed. I could’ve elaborated, but didn’t. Today I have found clarity in crispness for my disagreement. But it is a bit late, I guess.
How many times do we fail others, ourselves, and each other not just by caring what the world says and/ or by using our rationale to eclipse what is our natural instinct- to connect like Keesha and Ebenezeer!
Cinema, Life and Me- The Three of Us
Whether it is the algorithm or popularity, I don’t know; but reviews, recommendations, and even screen-grabs of Avinash Arun’s film Three of Us have been appearing majorly on my feed; & that has prompted me to write/ share this experience, not just because it is around Three of Us, but also because 2023 is coming to end and…
A senior friend/ mentor invited me for a private screening of the film Three of Us, sometime in early 2023. The plan was to watch the film, talk at length, have dinner, and then disperse. But halfway through the film, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold any conversation about the film, not just because the film was too good to be discussed immediately but also because…
Soon after the end credits rolled, we all sat in silence. A few words were exchanged, & immediately I canceled the dinner plan & left the place.
As I walked to the metro station, I searched for a particular number on my phone & walked a long way holding my fingers just above the dial button. I wanted to dial that number, take an appointment, take a detour, and meet that person… I wanted to reconnect, reconcile, reunite, & restart. Or at least healthily communicate the same & check what are the possibilities of it. Or at least, discuss & find a closure…
My mind played several scenarios of what could happen if I chose to call this person & meet her. I reached the metro station without having made the call. I had to just dial the number, take her appointment, and buy a ticket to go to where she stays. But I couldn’t pull the courage.
I bought the ticket to go home. On reaching home, I just broke down. Wept endlessly.
It is easy to create a world of Yash Chopra or Karan Johar & make the audience feel, ‘I wish life was like cinema’. But is much harder to make a film on a subject like this & make the audience feel life was like cinema. Avinash Arun achieves that.
When I narrated this experience to a friend, I was asked whether I felt comforted by Three of Us. I responded by saying, “I wish life was like cinema. There is at least a closure if not reconciliation. Life is harder. Too hard to be comforted by the cinema. Especially when epic possibilities & potentials get aborted.”
Collaboration is completion
My newly published book- translation of Jacinta Kerketta’s poetry collection into Kannada- has a striking image created by Vandita Jain on its cover page.
Recently when my friend Divya visited us, I gave her a copy of my book. Her daughter Jhari was also present.
The next day Divya recollected what Jhari told her after I left. Jhari picked up the book, looked at the image on the cover, and said to her mother, “I don’t understand Kannada but this book looks interesting.” When asked what about the book did she find interesting, she replied saying, “The leaf is cut and not full”. The mother asked the daughter why she found the half leaf interesting and the ten-year-old Jhari said, “The rest is for us to complete in our minds.”
I think her response tells us something about children– they don’t like to be ‘told’ or ‘shown’ or ‘taught’ but like to be ‘invited’ to the game/ process/ learning.
Jhari’s response also makes me realize why the best of art, and above all poetry appeal to us so deeply. They don’t give us things in complete form. They invite us to join the dots and complete the picture or rather make our own picture. It triggers our imagination!
Probably Jhari’s response also suggests that reality alone doesn’t ‘complete’ things and the real becomes real and complete only with the handshake of imagination.
In addition, her response also reflects the true nature of human life– we have to collaborate towards completion, and that is the joy of life and that is what makes life interesting and fulfilling. Isn’t it? To collaborate towards completion. Or, maybe the completion is in the act of collaboration itself. Collaboration is completion.
Crazy Mind's Eye 