Standards

I am always very happy when its time to return home. When the office is over I want to be at home as soon as possible. If I didn’t need to earn may be I will never get out of my room. In one of my primary school classes, a teacher had told us story about a witch, her adoption of Hansel and Gretel. In between she told that in earlier days, in the remote areas and in the tribe people who do not come out of their home, shun the world was thought to be practicing black magic. I am pretty sure if one of the tribe men came to our home seeing me shut in my room always with book, uncombed hair, bulging eyes, will be afraid of me considering me as a practitioner of black magic.
As always on my way to home, I came across children playing in the heap of sand in the open ground. They were imitating a dance program that comes in TV. These unprivileged kids could not manage better seats for the judges who sat on the heap of sand, their legs crossed. The judges were relatively older kids while the young with running nose, dribbles were putting on some performance in the stage. The stage was the area inside a rectangle they had drawn with a stone on the ground. I couldn’t help stopping to watch them. A girl, with the flounce of her skirt torn at places and a dirty vest visible danced to a song which she sang herself. She finished the act and the other girl who was playing the anchor of the show asked the judges for their opinion. It was such an innocent and yet very real game. The first judge knitted the skin on her nose, giving her verdict, ‘it was good but not best, the lifting of the foot so high during the act was not needed’ since I had watched the dance of this girl from the beginning I knew she had no moves where she lifted her feet. She was not a good dancer and rarely shifted her position as if her foot were buried in the earth and how come the complain of her foot movement. May be the judges in the TV had commented thus. The stick that represented the mike was transferred to the other judge who was a clever looking fellow. He said the feet were really high because he could see the knickers of the dancer on which everyone laughed including the dancer. The third judge who looked intelligent said the performance could have been better if she had brought expression on her face. She got twenty marks in total. She bowed to the judges and the anchor replaced her while I walked on with a smile. I had seen the anchor blush finding I was watching them.
I wondered how even these little kids learn about standards. They say the hand movement should have been thus, the foot movement was preposterous, the facial expression was lacking. I know in their real life they struggle to be mould in the social standards. The rules, customs will chain them. In some way growing up is a process of getting accustomed with these standards and shaping oneself, one’s behavior on the basis of these norms. They will find these judges everywhere, who take special pleasure in directing others conduct, chiding them when they drift from the standards. They assume they are the standards themselves and they govern things to be done this way rather than that way, rebellion is unexpected, more likely rebel will be crushed. Standards have always existed, probably they define the state of civilization. A society is put against standards to measure its rank in the scale of civilization. Everyone has to abide by these standards. The judges take a great pleasure in deciding the fate of these performers. Most of them being so arrogant and proud that they assume themselves to be some sort of demigod. Standards are either what a majority believes or what a person in power can exercise. Once these standards are in conceived they are destined to be laid on the track of evolution. Darwin’s survival of fittest holds. There are social police who keep everyone under scrutiny to ensure the standards are being followed. There are standards everywhere in art, in music, in tradition, in society, in life. People take pride for possessing the power to ruin and glorify others fate, they are the epitome of standards. Whether its Van Gogh, Aristotle, Galileo everyone is tested against these standards and deviation is scorned. It feels so helpless that one has to live on the mercy of others but what can we do. I take pity on these standards, rather loathe them when they try to bind anyone within its periphery. I do not scorn every rules, every standards but I want leniency in creativity and fertility to differences. Listen to the rebels, convince them, exercise your logics do not take extreme measures at once. Throw your whips and come out of your images of demi-gods. Be lenient to revise the standards.

Falling prey to TV crew

At this moment as I sit before my laptop, an unprecedented friend recently I am overwhelmed with so many things. The confusions, thoughts are hovering at random just like the cloud I see through the edge of my window. Sun and shade are playing game while from a distant I can hear the music celebrating the biggest festival of woman the Teej, where they fast for a whole day without even sipping a drop of water, the married fasts for the well-being of their husbands and the unweds fast in order to have a good husband. They sing and dance the whole day taking their energy from God knows where. The fast will be broken tomorrow after a brief worship.
As a part of a routine these days, I feel lazy and have headache most of the day. I know I am being haunted by a new bout of depression but its been less severe this time. I hope it does not aggravate. After clicking different sites at random in office, I had just drawn my rack to find a book when a colleague announced that he was going in the volley-ball competition at the head office. As a celebration of office-day toward the middle of September, different events are organized. Thanks to the organizers I sneaked out of the office telling my seniors that our team needed spectators so I was going to cheer them up. I came to home with guilt consciousness. It probably was not a propitious time when I left my office, as I was walking on my way home, a TV crew caught me up for an opinion on the state of women in the country and the significance of ‘Teej’. On the day of women nothing but my ill luck had conspired that the TV people hunted me down. The first thing that came to my mind was my colleagues might watch it, after all they broadcast it in the prime time news. It was so disgusting. Sometime I used to wonder while these TV people catch up so many invalid people why don’t they found me. Many times I have missed opportunities like these by the inch of a hair. For not being someone who tries to jump in the crowd of mob just to be in the frame of camera. I have many times despised intelligent looking people for giving flaccid replies before the camera and have thought I would have replied better. Yes I used to want to be caught by television crew but now in situation like today. The lady with the microphone was just in front of me and there was no way I could hide my face or do something silly to avoid being interviewed. Her question ‘Are you going home?’ was a hard blow, I was so confused that I said ‘Rubbish’, I must have looked agitated. ‘I am going to a place on work and I am in a hurry’ was what I said after repossessing myself. She had just began, ‘What do you think..’ and I interrupted citing the urgency of my work. Without waiting for her response I slid away. I was so worried that they might telecast it at the time while my seniors would be sitting at their drawing rooms to watch the news. However since I had not said anything they might edit my part because in none of their opinion poll section I have seen people embarrassed like me. Then I looked back at the crew, at their van which was the intelligent thing I did. The van was painted with a logo of a channel that is only in the process of testing its transmission and very few people know that there is news-channel like that. It was a great relief. Then I thought how silly I had been because even if they had telecasted everything they do not say the time at which the opinion was sought. Since the sun was behind the clouds I would have said upon inquiry by my colleagues that while I was returning home after the game, they had caught me. I felt so foolish for acting like a child. May be I could have boasted before my colleagues that I was interviewed and asked if they saw me in TV. However there was one good thing because I could not say about the state of women and significance of the festival. I am sure I would have told, the whole festival, the idea of keeping a woman hungry just for the sake of her husband was not justified. It was against the whole concept of women emancipation that is being discussed every day in political meetings. I would have definitely said it is a different form of torture and slavery. It was an attempt to make women believe that their destiny, happiness lies in their husband because they cannot do anything on their own to buy them happiness. I know how much I despise these ideas. My comments would have been against the belief of thousands of women who were standing in the queue of 5 to 10 kilometers just to worship the phallus of Lord Shiva in the temple of Pashupatinath. The idea of phallus worship drifted my thoughts to some other territories. I looked back, the TV crew had caught somebody else, and from a little distant I could see an embarrassed smile at the face of their new prey. I walked on.

Adventure in darkness

The summer is slowly fading. The days are gentle while mornings are cooler. I have given up morning walks, cant get out of bed early and the first thing that comes to mind is books, and one is always lying by my side. I cannot deny it and one can find me with a book still tucked in to the bed, my face looking sleepy and lazy.
I went home feeling lazy, dizzy, tired etc.etc. Had just lied flat in my beloved bed with a book. Night was creeping and I could see the tints of darkness all over the earth, the clouds looked gloomy and peaceful. There was no sign of rain though the moon was hiding somewhere behind the clouds. The ground where kids play was empty which made me assume the kids had returned home after being shooed by the falling dark. The neon light was already lightening my room. I must say the ambience was romantic unluckily I was not, I was just indifferent. I could see a shadow in the curtain of my neighbor; someone was reading rather mugging notes, probably my neighbor’s son preparing for exam. He was moving from left to right and back. I could see the shadow of a notebook. I still have reminiscent of my college days and the treacherous exams. I felt sorry for the boy, but the movement of his shadow was disturbing me and I turned to other side. I could see the road gleaming in the street light. I had left my book on the table just to greet the evening but it held me by its unseen hands. I was trying to read the stories of the day brought to me by the smooth breeze. All of a sudden everything went dark. I was inside the pitch darkness. The damn power cuts. I hear we will have it fourteen hours a day. I realized my damnation of the darkness was not very harsh. I felt as if I was standing alone as some mystery was to unfold. I could see nothing only hear meaningless sounds coming from all sides, time and again the howl of the dogs tried to bring meaning. The empty road was nowhere to be seen and I could only guess where it could be. I raised my hand but I couldn’t see it. I had seen a candle in my table but I dismissed it. I was enjoying darkness. Helpless candles and electrical gadgets were already flickering in pride for being able to come to the aid of their masters. Man is falling slave to his own inventions. I had to move with greater precision not to collide with anything, not to fell the things in the table and not to hurt myself. It was such a helpless state still I was cynically enjoying it. My mobile shrieked and from its light I could track where it was. A distant cousin had called as he had been invited for a dinner which obviously I had forgotten. He hadn’t seen our home and wanted me to fetch him from a crossroad where he was strangled. These days I exist in my own home without the notice of my own people. Mummy complains that I see her only on my way to office or in the dining table and I dismiss that in a guffaw. I shout at my mum that I am going to fetch the cousin. I step out of my home without a torch despite the pressings of my mother. I enjoyed the thrill that I might stumble upon anything, fall into ditches still I wanted to avoid that. Sometime its such an adventure to test one’s own instincts. I only had to get to the main road because it won’t be difficult afterward and there was no way to carry on my experiment when my cousin and his newly wed would be accompanying me. I have a torch in my mobile, I dismissed it as well. Afterall I had felt pity on the mankind for falling slave to his own inventions, if I used my torch that would be hypocrisy and for that instant I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.
As I walked along the dark track, I assumed as if someone has spilled black ink all over the earth. The thick clouds were assisting in my experiment by barring the moon from peeping the earth. I thanked them and raised every steps with care, extending my hand just to ensure I do not hammer on wall or pole with my nose. As I walked I assumed myself to be the cavemen who dwelled in Stone Age. They would have done the same thing if they were lost in middle of the night.
I was walking like a blind and that thought washed away all my excitements. My experiment of a short span was a reality of life for so many people. In my childhood when I used to imitate lame, blind, deaf and dumb people mummy used to tell me that one who mocks at helpless become helpless themselves. If I were to imitate a lame man I will be lame eventually. Recollection of those memories scared me to death. I slipped my hands into my pocket briskly and soon I was walking in the light of my mobile’s torch. I had only few steps to get into the main road but I was happy I had light and I could see.