To Perceive is to Live...

Ultimately, as in all experience, no clear line marks off what is "mine" from what I lived through other.

                                      - Arthur Frank, At the Will of the Body: Reflections on Illness

Arthur Frank states these words in narrating his illness experience. He comes to terms with his illness through others' experiences of their own. If all experiences, yours and mine, merge into one and can never be "marked off," what separates mine from yours is but illusory. We believe that one's store of experiences defines and gives an individual identity. We often see and perceive the world through the knowledge and wisdom we have acquired though our experiences, but we fail to understand that our perception of our own selves is made possible only through others. The self can be perceived and concretised only through others. Frank's words only disturb the complacent self, and makes one become acutely aware of the indispensability of people around us. We realise that by ". . . all experience is an arch . . .", Tennyson meant the collective experiences of men and women. If each one's experience is adding to the wholeness of human experience, each experience becomes significant and the need to validate one's own as worthier over others vanishes. This realisation awakens us to the vast sea of human wisdom in which each one of us is a drop. 

In memory of the man who taught me to love. . .

Papu (as we lovingly called my grandpa) was a man of few words, and mostly kept to himself in his period of retirement. I have heard stories of his passionate involvement in the labour union for bank employees, how he relentlessly fought for their rights, and how he had never budged from achieving his ends.

Numerous anecdotes illustrate his greatness. In the early sixties, at the beginning of his career, he once wore veshti and shirt to work and was barred from entering the office. A rebel in his own rights, he quit the job to express his defiance; he was an unpretentious man who always professed only what he truly practised in his own life. Being born in an orthodox family that upholds tradition and follows conventional rituals without questioning, Papu was different. He possessed the courage and the individuality to rise above the repressive and oppressive effects of caste and creed. He stood as a role model for us to emulate and worship. He passed on his rebellious spirit to his son, daughters and grandchildren. His wife (my Patti) is no less a rebel. Patti and Papu never discussed caste or religion at home. I have never cared about my religious identity for I never witnessed people who did when I grew up.

Papu is synonymous with love. He never hated a man nor had he wished anything bad for anyone ever. He taught his children and grandchildren to be brave and always stand up for what is right. His love sustained me as a kid and his loving memories would be my sustenance in future.

I was fortunate to have my grandparents with me during my growing-up years - they held my hands teaching me to take small little steps as toddlers; fed my mind and tummy with stories and food; strengthened and moulded me with morals to carry forward their legacy. I fondly smile with contentment as I look back and reflect on the times I spent with my Papu.

Papu was a father I never had, a grandpa one could never find, and a man who left his indelible mark on the world.

Vikram Vedha: A movie with an unconventional take on morality

It has been a while since I posted something... Deserted by the Muses, I waited for a spark that would set aflame the desire to ramble. And then, I watched Vikram Vedha. Watching a movie is an experience that never fails to set me thinking. It is not everyday you witness the paths of an antagonist (debatable) who walks a tightrope between dharma and adharma, and a cop who spends sleepless nights manoeuvring to catch the former alive cross, only to pose the greatest existential question: what is dharma/adharma? The tension in the movie escalates when you see that the cop, Vikram is lured into the entrails of a moral mess by the Betal, Vedha; and then you are even more intrigued by the readiness Vikram exhibits in letting himself be controlled by Vedha (which I find quite natural for the person he is). 

I have always found the duality of dharma and adharma riveting. The Mahabharata, the greatest of epics, also exhausts this question to an extent that the line dividing the two blurs gradually. The director duo, Pushkar-Gayathri astutely point out the aforementioned blurring of the line; only here you find a real line with Vikram and Vedha on either side. What appears white and black turns grey (if only the duality of good and evil, or right and wrong were discernible, which in most cases is difficult, the world would be a much peaceful place to live). The peaceful world of Vikram is disrupted by questions he is forced to ask himself. The cop-ego he possessed of killing the wrongdoers is punctured; he is consumed by guilt and doubt. Vedha's nonchalance, and his rumination on the concept of dharma ensnare the righteous cop to engage in a moral dilemma. Vikram's discernment of good and bad is altered by the events he witnesses; he can see the "greyness," the point where the white and the black blend. This transformation fascinated me the most about the movie. If I could see people beyond the categorisation of good and bad, I could purge myself of the prejudice that I harbour against them. Good and bad are labels we attach to humans — we do unto others what we do not want from them*. Moralising is the least thing that the directors engage in Vikram Vedha; but you see what you want, and I did. 


(*An antithesis of Luke 6:31)