THE WINDOW OR THE AISLE?

THE WINDOW OR THE AISLE?

A bus drive teaches what a choice is. As one waits in a bus stop, it is only a matter of choice whether we board a bus or a van or an auto. Inside a bus, it is our choice that we stand or vehemently sit in someone else’s seat. Our choices rule our lives or … do they? What is a choice after all? Isn’t it another kind of compulsion that one is pushed into? The compulsion of a choice is a wonderful paradox.

One feels one is free. How mediocre we are? Here in India we have a discourse that says we are absolutely free to elect our own government. It is our choice it seems. Precisely, what say do we have in this collective conformity and mob behaviour? Aren’t we made to conform? Aren’t we made to think what we get actually suits us? Apparently, we are made to please others and by doing so we are pleased. This mechanism is an illusion - it appears. The whole system works like that. We become mobs. Therefore we have schemers to control us. The system is a scheme. It works for those who systemized it. We become the system – subjects on whom the schemes perfectly suit. We cannot work or act on our own. We are made to think that we are better only as a mob. The schemers, who are they? They unleash power over the mob by instigating their senses. They are sensual predators. The powerful politician, the over-caring parent, the over-protective spouse, the patronizing teacher, the all advising pastor and the-good-for-nothing culture – all of them are nothing but sensual predators looking out for their prey.

As prey we apparently become the bus in which we travel. We become what we travel - devoid of our individuality, our identity and our self. The predators make us either a TNSTC or a Metro. We become crowds and they the crowd pullers. However, even in this predator – prey scenario, a bus driver preserves his core. However, s/he cannot act on his own will. A larger scheme of things controls him - the traffic rules, the passengers and also the conductor. It’s a system of conformity.

The contradictions are galore. Therefore a public domain in itself is self-contradictory. ‘Public’ loses its meaning in the absence of the ‘private’. Both attribute meanings to each other. By doing so, they become self-contradictory. Schemes are contradictory since they are devised by schemers. The subject i.e. the prey ironically has a great respect over its schemers - the predator. Now do we need a better paradox?

THE INVENTION OF A 6:30

THE INVENTION OF A 6:30

An old milk maid used to come to our home every day at 6:30 in the morning. She was what she did. She was a 6:30. Every day, whether the weather be hot or whether the weather be cold, she would be there at 6:30. She was old and withered but strong – she carried an old milk can – old and withered but strong. It carried what it had - Milk. She got us milk - alone and persistent, everyday. She became what she did every day. She became a 6:30. She became the calling bell that buzzed aloud everyday whether the weather be …or whether the weather be… she became the old droning voice – kind, interactive and patient. She became the old woman who brought us milk. She had no name. She had no identity but for the work she did, everyday.

I used to look at her - at her eyes. They would seem to smile, grin and laugh. I understood those very expressions. To me, she became what she was not. I saw ‘us’ through her. To her, we were what she was not. We were just, yet another 6:30, in an array of so many 30s in her monotonous cline. We were not defined by our work or our actions. We were what we paid her and what we received from her. We were the milk that she gives. We were the money that she receives. And we were just one among many.

She was an old milk maid. She was what she did and we invented her.