A subject of discussion that comes up quiet often when I talk to people is the so called "degradation on values". I finally got down to thinking about it, only to realize that I still haven't defined 'values'. Its easy to define values when you place yourself in a group, but as an individual, its tougher that you think.
Do not kill, do not steal, do not hurt others, do not laze around are all social values that still retain their relevance to an extent but have slowly streamed out and got localized to a much more trivial level where they include "listen to your parents, do not dress different from everyone else, do not talk back, do not fall in love with someone society doesnt approve of, do not see 'evil' (have you watched "chole ke pechae kya hai" with elders around?), no one wants to give their daughters their due in marriage (dowry) and so on. The list is endless. But how much of it is really worthy of being accepted as values. Values, like the Ganges have started as the purest guides to out lives, but without the help of reason have aquired enough dirt to stink even before it reaches the mind of individuals. And so becomes more an excuse to fall in line than draw your own.
So what do we do? Do we ignore social values or do we follow them. Well, I think we need values but you got to mix reason before you dish it out. And what cant be dished out after mixing reason are not worthy values. But most of all, instead of following a socially accepted set of values, I suppose each individual needs his values.
This is the age of the individual, people are more and more isolated as ever. Gadgets have made our life so much safer and better that we no longer have the need to hunt in packs. But ironically, this is also the age where men as thinkers refuse to surface out of the collective murk of society. What is society but the majority and the majority seems to hold power more than ever simply because more people that ever refuse to differ. If social values say killing is wrong, why is the world playing along with the powerful few who kill for oil? If tolerance is value, why is Gods name slandered in the name of holy war? Are values merely a matter of convenience?
I don't care for these values, because they dont give me the satisfaction I should get in following them. Instead, all I get is a guilt that refuses to drown despite the sea of social knowledghement. I know that no amount of "you did the right thing" will put my soul to rest if I accept a groom who asked for dowry. No amount of "you are a good girl" will equal the fun of making a choice to wear cloths I am comfortable in. My values are my own. Whatever we tell ourselves, we are survivors first and only then social animals. If you must kill for survival, won't you? My first value is to survive. The rest are what I set to make my survival as guiltless and as enjoyable as possible. But like everything else in life, values too have a cost. You can kill to survive but you also have to answer to "at what cost?" If I do choose the wrong things as my values, or dont set the cost, then I always have karma to face. Afterall, those who are ready to kill, must be ready to be killed right?
Monday, March 24, 2008
Philosophy in the rain
"Its surprising that it should rain so much in Chennai in March". As soon as I said this, I chided myself for falling into the trap of preconceived notion. Why shouldn't it rain in March just because it had never happened before. As I sat and watched the rain, I realized that how much ever I try, I always step into that puddle of memory and the notions I derive from it. Are we just a sum of all our experiences stashed away in memory and is our future always linked to the past. Is my past in real a definition of myself?
While I can still safely avoid rum and raisin while buying ice cream (after all they usually taste the same where ever you buy it) I, for all my rebellion against prejudices, am still committing the worst of the crime, namely avoiding people based on past experiences. I still am afraid to trust people because of past scars, I still avoid a certain group of people because I was betrayed by one of them, and i am still friendly to all auto drivers because one of them helped me a long time ago. I have always believed that the past should have no bearing on the future, that people react to situations more that habit and a thief needn't necessarily steal again, just the same as a honest man needn't remain honest always.
But what will happen if I really do become aprejudiced. I would have to look at everything in a fresh light, which is not only tiresome but also unsafe. In other words, I would loose the capacity to 'learn from past mistakes'. Is it really stupid to expect better coconut from a tree that yielded bad ones last season? Or is it better to blame it on the fertilizer, get a better fertilizer and now expect a better yield?
I guess I was wrong. I needn't be so prejudiced against prejudice. Prejudices are a direct result of judicious observation of the past. But then I need be prejudiced against the right things for the right reasons.
Okay, I have rambled enough. Thinking is a tiresome job. I am tired of contemplating the past and the future for a while. I will just sit and watch the rain hoping that, at least for a while, it will just wash away the restless thoughts that keep crashing my skull.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
What Sita had done?
Being born in a country of immense history and myth is an awful burden to live with. Even before you are born, you are tied to a stone weighing ages of tradition and culture that no matter how old, never loose their weight.
I hate her, I hate Sita. If only she hadn’t jumped into the fire at the whim and fancy of her husband, there will be one less argument when a woman refuses to take s*** from her husband. And before you tell me Ram did that to clear his wife’s name, let me tell you that if he really loved his wife, he wouldn’t care a foot about what others thought of her. Why didn’t they give Sita some character? Everything in her life was conveniently written to avoid her making a decision. Ever wondered what would have happened if Ram didn’t break the bow. Would Sita have walked down the aisle and boldly refused to marry anyone, bow breaker or not, except Ram? Would Ram have valiantly decided that he fell in love with Sita and not the bow and married her anyway? Why the hell didn’t she even think of attempting an escape from Lanka, instead of passively waiting for her husband to do the rescue?
For that matter, Draupathi had some character. She juggled five husbands beautifully and was clever enough to know who would do what for her. She also knew what they wouldn’t do for her and asked the right person (never mind it was Krishna and not on of her husbands who had pawned her) for help when desperately in need. But she doesn’t figure much in the ‘guide to Indian womanhood’.
What about Savithri? What about Kanagi? All these women gave the impression that their husbands were Gods and they themselves were nothing without them. Take Kanagi for example. She didn’t do much to stop her wayward husband, but she was docile enough to wait for him and take him back into her life when he came back a pauper. But when he got murdered by mistake, she became the mighty ‘pathni’ who burnt a city in his memory.
Passivity is such a glorified concept on Indian womanhood that women who put up with things are considered divine. While, women who are assertive and refuse to waste their lives at the foot of men are considered arrogant and manipulative. How many of the women in these legends did a honest days work (forget the ones they spent washing their father’s or husband’s feet and bearing children)? How many of them fought battles (Poor queen of Jansi, she did and still is fighting a lone battle), treated the sick, ran business empires, or plain protected their interests. I am sure there should be a few shining examples, but sadly, they not popular enough for a layman like me to know.
Indian women have evolved so much, we have come a long way from plain reproductive members of society to productive members of society, but still old myths are flung at our face whenever it suits society. While fathers and mothers are happy that their daughters are earning their keep, they resent it when their daughter’s make their life’s choices. While a man is happy with a woman’s efficiency at work, he goes back home and expects the same luxuriant dinner, his mother’s made for their fathers, from a wife who had worked just as hard as him the whole day. And when a woman grumbles about it, men (and women of the older generation) bring Sita into the picture.
Sita is a bad example, if Indian women follow her ideas fastidiously; we will have an even bigger population with even less money. But I must admit we will have more bonfires.
I hate her, I hate Sita. If only she hadn’t jumped into the fire at the whim and fancy of her husband, there will be one less argument when a woman refuses to take s*** from her husband. And before you tell me Ram did that to clear his wife’s name, let me tell you that if he really loved his wife, he wouldn’t care a foot about what others thought of her. Why didn’t they give Sita some character? Everything in her life was conveniently written to avoid her making a decision. Ever wondered what would have happened if Ram didn’t break the bow. Would Sita have walked down the aisle and boldly refused to marry anyone, bow breaker or not, except Ram? Would Ram have valiantly decided that he fell in love with Sita and not the bow and married her anyway? Why the hell didn’t she even think of attempting an escape from Lanka, instead of passively waiting for her husband to do the rescue?
For that matter, Draupathi had some character. She juggled five husbands beautifully and was clever enough to know who would do what for her. She also knew what they wouldn’t do for her and asked the right person (never mind it was Krishna and not on of her husbands who had pawned her) for help when desperately in need. But she doesn’t figure much in the ‘guide to Indian womanhood’.
What about Savithri? What about Kanagi? All these women gave the impression that their husbands were Gods and they themselves were nothing without them. Take Kanagi for example. She didn’t do much to stop her wayward husband, but she was docile enough to wait for him and take him back into her life when he came back a pauper. But when he got murdered by mistake, she became the mighty ‘pathni’ who burnt a city in his memory.
Passivity is such a glorified concept on Indian womanhood that women who put up with things are considered divine. While, women who are assertive and refuse to waste their lives at the foot of men are considered arrogant and manipulative. How many of the women in these legends did a honest days work (forget the ones they spent washing their father’s or husband’s feet and bearing children)? How many of them fought battles (Poor queen of Jansi, she did and still is fighting a lone battle), treated the sick, ran business empires, or plain protected their interests. I am sure there should be a few shining examples, but sadly, they not popular enough for a layman like me to know.
Indian women have evolved so much, we have come a long way from plain reproductive members of society to productive members of society, but still old myths are flung at our face whenever it suits society. While fathers and mothers are happy that their daughters are earning their keep, they resent it when their daughter’s make their life’s choices. While a man is happy with a woman’s efficiency at work, he goes back home and expects the same luxuriant dinner, his mother’s made for their fathers, from a wife who had worked just as hard as him the whole day. And when a woman grumbles about it, men (and women of the older generation) bring Sita into the picture.
Sita is a bad example, if Indian women follow her ideas fastidiously; we will have an even bigger population with even less money. But I must admit we will have more bonfires.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Chronicles of a Depressiac
Sometimes, it’s so dark that when you look into your heart there is nothing. Its one big empty void that is just empty of anything. Its times like these that make me wonder if its better to have the bright rage of hatred than this vacuum. And then there are times slightly better when you feel cold, so cold that its numb. Its times like these that I wonder if my emotions have frozen so much that they will crack if I try to disturb them.
Yeah, this is how I feel when I am depressed. Alone, scared, and worthless are the usual toppings that go with this not so unusual rich sundae. It’s a struggle to get back on my feet when it hits be, but like the unwavering sun that always rises, I always get up, dust myself and walk on until it hits be again. The fear that one day, I may not get up, took me to a shrink once.
Acute anxiety, depression and a refusal to deal with emotional problems of the past were some of the things that were repeatedly mentioned in her diagnosis. While I sat and listened, meekly wondering if I will ever make it into the ‘normal’ side of human society, I told myself that I would do better to get rid of these ailments. Six pills and 2 days later, I realized that depression was more fun than sleep walking zombism.
I still get depressed but when I finally get it under control and stop those shuddering torrents of tears, I smile a real smile that is reserved for those occasions when I think I have come clean after falling off the boat of Hades. It feels like I am God, the enigma that will always resurrect, no matter how many ever times it is burnt or buried. And I have faith that I will always come clean. I have uncluttered my life as much as possible to keep this faith undisturbed. I have made my own ideals to live by.
Alone, yes, alone gives me the freedom to walk the road I choose. Scared, yes, the more I am scared, the more I want to win. Worthless, never, someday when I know that I don’t have many sun rises left to watch, I will know that each minute I lived was worth it.Meanwhile, I have chocolates, icecreams, butterflies and rain to live for.
Yeah, this is how I feel when I am depressed. Alone, scared, and worthless are the usual toppings that go with this not so unusual rich sundae. It’s a struggle to get back on my feet when it hits be, but like the unwavering sun that always rises, I always get up, dust myself and walk on until it hits be again. The fear that one day, I may not get up, took me to a shrink once.
Acute anxiety, depression and a refusal to deal with emotional problems of the past were some of the things that were repeatedly mentioned in her diagnosis. While I sat and listened, meekly wondering if I will ever make it into the ‘normal’ side of human society, I told myself that I would do better to get rid of these ailments. Six pills and 2 days later, I realized that depression was more fun than sleep walking zombism.
I still get depressed but when I finally get it under control and stop those shuddering torrents of tears, I smile a real smile that is reserved for those occasions when I think I have come clean after falling off the boat of Hades. It feels like I am God, the enigma that will always resurrect, no matter how many ever times it is burnt or buried. And I have faith that I will always come clean. I have uncluttered my life as much as possible to keep this faith undisturbed. I have made my own ideals to live by.
Alone, yes, alone gives me the freedom to walk the road I choose. Scared, yes, the more I am scared, the more I want to win. Worthless, never, someday when I know that I don’t have many sun rises left to watch, I will know that each minute I lived was worth it.Meanwhile, I have chocolates, icecreams, butterflies and rain to live for.
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