Only War builds a Nation

               Increasingly I have come to believe that it is only a war which builds a nation in today’s times. There have been historic societies where people have lived in small conglomerates for many years. The ruling units have varied – in some places, they have been actively governed by a feudal lord or a prince of a state. In others local governance has prevailed, and the only contribution of the people with the sovereign has been to pay taxes. Local governance and decision making of what needs to be done with local resources, or local justice was to be administered. In these communities there were many kinds of transgressions – sins of commission and omissions, for what was not done was also as important as what was done. 

There were relatively fewer places where a sovereign ruled and the people were wealthy. While India has been touted as a rich country plundered by the British over 500 years ago, perhaps a truer version would be describing it as a country with rich rulers and poor subjects. The system of payment of taxes as well as plunder and expansion to garner additional wealth was an effective one to ensure the wealth of the state or tiny states spread across the land. In situations where some of this wealth was ploughed back into the country into investments in roads, canals, houses, there was more equitable distribution of wealth. But there were all kinds of kings as well – many were not bothered to reinvest the wealth in such a manner, and had significant hoardes.

These two systems of reign which was prevalent in various parts of the world through the centuries. In some areas, the kings ruled over significantly larger portions of land than otherwise, leading to a larger state. However, the representation of the sovereign was always through taxation rather than governance. Norms of social conduct – be it the family or relations between neighbours or livelihoods were always localised. 

It was the war which really changed this social fabric. Suddenly people from various parts of the country were called for a similar task and their families were all thrust into a similar plight. It equalised chances of survival and became the only priority – in the face of which all other differences needed to be forgotten. Even if caste, class, and community lines remained imprinted, there was another common identity that everyone could wear – that of having belonged to the horrors of a war. There are countries where this war has been external fighting against enemies, whereas in others, it has been an internal battle in the face of a revolution. What it most certainly did is to establish new equitable identities for all. With a common identity a nation could be born.

In India, there was neither a revolution nor a war. The fight against independence was indeed in pockets though it roused many sentiments. Further, since a large chunk of the movement was non-violent, and led by specific leaders, it did not require the acquisiton of newer identities in any way. People simply supported the movement led by a select few, a feat impossible on the battleground, where the only support possible is through the sacrifice of life and health. Thus there was never a scope for any newer identities to be created in this ancient land, replete with strong and distinct communities. A state was formed, and was also given power, but the vast majority were not involved in either the formation or the grant of power. 

This meant that even 60 years after its formation, the acceptance of the state is limited. Further, in the lines of any modern democracy, the state also chose to uphold the defense of the private and the local, without having any legitimacy to do so. Needless to say, most such attempts of changing the social fabric have been rather unsuccessful. At the same time, the nature of the modern state is quite different from its predecessors who simply wanted to accumulate wealth and land. The state is also responsible for maintaining economic independence and the judicious usage of the resources of the land rests with them. This is highly difficult to implement in a scenario where the social fabric does not accept the complete sovereignty of its existence. Hence, implementation of any decision requires the support of the local power structure – be it landlords or the merchants, people with muscle or money. Without their support, the state would fail in its mission to utilize local resources. Enlisting their support means that it is perceived as an agent of existing power structures. In the absence of any new identity that the state provides, traditional identities remain relevant, and the state simply morphs to represent the powerful among them.

Wishing for war is a horrifying thought, even given its importance in building a nation. In the absence of war, we must realise that our notion of our country is false, isn’t embedded in the realities for the majority of its people. Thus, all battles are localised, and our fights too must be. Only a local uprising against existing messiahs of power, with the people, unites them and gives them a different identity to transcend their traditional differences. Only then is development owned by the people. India will never be a nation, but can perhaps become a land of a multitude of mini nations, governed equitably.

P.S - Giant multinationals, some larger than countries in their influence and financial muscle are certainly an anathema to this principle. However a network of strong small and middle sized entrepreneurs can definitely reduce their significance in many important areas of everyday life. Even today, it is such strength which has buffered our country against the vagaries of economic slowdowns and global turmoil. It can definitely be strengthened, and developed further to counter the terror of unbridled capital, which is singularly responsible for most of the economic woes of the last century. 

If I wrote a poem

If I wrote a poem

If I wrote a poem,

On what would it be-

Would the voices gush over

Should I narrate what I see?

The days rolling quickly,

With dusk chasing the dawn,

Before the sights could sink in

The moment seemed gone.

The flurry of the pedestrians

And the rushing traffic in flight,

The unceasing roar of the marketplace;

The noisy silence of the night.

The frowns of the foreheads

On the rushing bodies in haste,

The tightening noose of the ticking clock

 Judging the hours to be a waste,

In the houses as the evening falls

The engrossing song and dance,

Taking the minds off the lurking demons

Till the return to the trance,

With a weary sigh as the credits roll

It is time to seek some sleep,

Till the morning comes in the flash of a wink

With the alarm’s annoying beep,

If I wrote a poem, it should never be

To narrate what I see,

For reality is dusty, and rusty too,

And poems can help you flee!

The Gift

The downpour couldn’t dare to dampen his spirits. The skies were pouring out in a relentless stream, but all he could see was what was in his hand. A gleaming toy, sparkling in the gentle evening radiance of a setting sun shrouded in rain clouds. The number of times he had seen it on television and  not even dreamt of owning it. T’was simply so out of his league that even his thoughts did not dare to appear presumptuous. The numerous reviews which raved about the features that he knew better than the back of his hand. And all those conversations with his friends and family, half of whom were clueless about the brilliance of what he behold.

It had all come true in less than 24 hours. He hadn’t noticed the very first drops of rain flitter playfully and scent the earth. He hadn’t heard the gradual roar of the drizzle as it transformed into a thundershower. The dry leaves being shaken off the trees and whirling in the wind in a trance were unobserved. His arm was covered with goosebumps, even though he wasn’t aware that the temperature had dropped a couple of notches. His heart was still terrified to accept what his eyes plainly pointed out. He desperately hoped that the cognitive dissonance would make reality disappear or maybe turn back time. He wasn’t ready and this was just too big to be thrust upon an unwary vulnerable soul like his. Infact he felt that it was perhaps unfair to experience such day dreams come true.

His overwhelmed eyes looked up as he began to speak. His voice was distorted and trembling, emerging from another planet as he pronounced the words, “I own a car”.

The vagaries of simplicity

             I remember the inauguration of a conference I attended recently, which began with everyone meditating. The speaker pointed out something quite fundamental, after the exercise was over. There was a general feeling of happiness, and everyone was feeling light as if a burden had been moved away from their hearts. He said that the natural state of all human beings is peace and happiness, whereas is the negatives that we accumulate in our lives which take that happiness away. The negatives, the absences, the expectations – once pushed away from immediate recall essentially result in us being happier.

                Another disconnected thought also resonated in my wanderings. A journalist while visiting eastern Europe after the fall of the Berlin Wall commented that she was feeling peaceful and she realized it was because there were no advertisements! The hoarding, the jingles, the newspaper ads which clamber for our attention so regularly in developed or developing media savvy countries just did not exist.

                Having just completed Daniel Kanheman’s book – Thinking Fast and Slow, I realize that research corroborates the same instinctive findings. We have two brain systems – System 1 and 2, constantly in action, reaching conclusions, interpreting the world. While System 1 is completely instinctive and judges the world in a biased manner, it is also automatic and cannot be turned off at will. System 2 analyses facts, assigns weightages and arrives at logical conclusions, but is lazy and will never rise to the occasion unless consciously summoned. Clearly it is nigh impossible for any individual to keep System 2 activated all the time, and hence incorrect messages if persuasively presented do sink in. And thus do the advertisers strike!

As part of my work, I recently visited a small town in Maharashtra, called Kolhapur. At the end of the visit, after talking to all the individuals based in the town, I felt quite refreshed, almost as if I had taken a vacation. Quite clearly the demands on my unconscious mind were less, which is why my mind was closer to its natural state of being happy. Of course hoardings were lesser but I am sure that human advertisements being less contributed significantly to this.

It got me thinking about the fact that more often than not urban interactions between people were an act rather than an expression of their genuine selves. This becomes an absolute necessity in the context of less time and more interactions with a huge variety of people. With less time, there is less attention for each interaction and then less scope for System 2 to gather inputs for a correct evaluation of the other person. As a result, one is dependent on System 1’s opinions, and presenting a coherent story becomes very important for all of us hoping to impress anyone’s System 1.

When people are less busy marketing themselves and spend more time just being themselves, our minds are less cluttered with receiving and decoding these messages. In this case System 1 judgements are closer to reality and this case reflects in our conversations and interactions as well.

This has important implications for personal effectiveness. Our endeavours to unclutter our minds is a direct consequence of how much clutter lives there in this first place. Much of today’s media is filled with such clutter – be it television or newspapers. Much of organisational interactions are clutter too – formal meetings where people engage in power games. Talking to people you are close to is decluttering. So is any hobby which engages, which cannot be pursued with a distracted, multi-tasking mind. The way to peace just involves fostering habits that prevent clutter in our minds, the absence of which leads us back to our natural innate peaceful selves.

Last but not the least, what we ask ourselves to be also plays a vital role in how we clutter our minds. Our minds have a deep-rooted sense of time. The amount of time we spend in not being ourselves in our interactions with the world creates clutter. It may be a professional hazard to assume personalities, but it is far more hazardous than what meets the eye. Daniel Kanheman’s book had another startling inference, our minds are very bad at distinguishing lies from the truth. Lies have an incredibly strong influence in our thoughts and beliefs, unless clearly distinguished and discarded as lies. In our journey to present themselves as someone else, we are bound to lose track of who we were and become someone else. There is no stronger argument possible for implementing simplicity in our everyday lives. 

The eco-friendly habits

Complaints about summers getting hotter and winters colder are commonplace in everyday parlance, yet the focus on garnering our energies to change the situation is rather bleak. Everyone acknowledges global warming as an inevitability today, and going green has definitely captured popular imagination. Nevertheless, a complete picture of how lifestyle choices affect the environment doesn’t emerge, probably being in contradiction with a growing consumer driven economy.

                Reality and common sense however clearly suggest that consumerism and the environment protection are completely antagonistic to each other. This is because modern industry creates incredible waste in the process of adding value, from the raw material to the finished product. There is waste in converting the raw material to the finished product, in transporting those finished products to the end consumer. Global supply chains, which are the norm today are incredibly wasteful – they deplete environmental resources at the place of manufacture in an intense way. Most of global manufacturing has moved to developing nations – be it China or Mexico or Brazil or India – which pay the price through depletion of their natural resources. Assembling the product from different parts of the world is a colossal waste of fossil fuels like oil. Packaging uses paper which results in depletion of forests or plastics which are impossible to sustainably dispose.

                Local production, and distribution of goods is thus far more sustainable than the current model. It is gaining importance in pockets of the world – especially in food through organic produce and kitchen gardens.

                The movement of digitization and a paperless world is definitely in vogue in many parts of the world today. What is missing to complete the picture is a realization that manufacture of computers and mobile phones are a wasteful process as well. The hard plastics which go into electronics today are mixed with a number of metallic elements, which are toxic unless disposed safely.

                Food, the most basic of human needs has taken an unsustainable turn with the usage of genetically modified seeds, intensive usage of fertilizer and irrigation. Soil is getting depleted through this process as well, and desertification of fertile land is not as well known as it is wide-spread.

                Organized retail creates similar issues in distribution – creating wastage when there is no need. Instead of adopting uniformity as a sacred goal in food, it is far more sustainable to embrace variety and diversity. Ecologies are always localized and diversifies and sustainable solutions merely mimic the fractal beauty of natural ecosystems.

                The lifestyle choices of driving one’s own car and eating out are again, rather unsustainable. Public transport entails less usage of metals and plastics in manufacture and less consumption of fuels in implementation. I read in awe about countries where cycling has emerged as a powerful alternative to cars and masses of people have adopted them. Combining fitness and saving the environment do appear to be a veritable combination.

                Replacing plastics with cloth in everyday life is a strong contribution you can make. Be it the local grocery store or the mall, just carry your own bags! If there are smaller items which you purchase which will not contaminate, there is no need for a separate packet, simply stuff them in your bag.

                Switching off electric gadgets is another simple yet effective thing one can do. The number of gadgets in an average home today is ever increasing – be it TV, music system, microwave, washing machine, fridge or AC. Yet the continuous blinking of the red, yellow or green light is easily avoidable and should be consciously remedied.

                There is an environmental cost to every decisions in every aspect of our lives today. Developing a perspective is all that it takes, to evaluate and make the right choices; the choices which would enable our children and grand-children to survive in our planet.  

The Dream

He was always waiting for the moment when everything would fall into place. When all the sadness and mundaneness of his life would emerge as part of the grand plan leading to that perfect moment. The angels would sing, and the wind would gush congratulations. No matter if anyone else on earth knew it or not, the universe would know.

He was a regular guy with a regular life. His work was allright, not something that he would trade his late evenings and weekends for, but in any case, there was nothing else being traded. There were always chores and responsibilities and duties and other tasks with similar meanings, and they helped melt the hours into weeks.

The world of letters is treated with suspicion and distrust by the illiterate, and with reason too. Their minds are less tainted with the notions of propriety and culture, and it is like a permanent vaccine against the illnesses caused by too many ideas. Unfortunately destiny had not granted him such priviledge and thus he often did sucumb to the malaises of those printed letters. Contrary ideas, spouting everywhere to influence and his poor little head couldn’t run far to escape till it was caught.

The magic of words and sentences printed in on an innocuous blank sheet is their ability to morph around everyday  aspects of co-existence. Especially, when the interactions were really quite superflous and professional. Our minds are really masters of the jigsaw puzzle, fitting tiny pieces to create many different pictures than what the cover may dictate. And so it was with this forlorn lad, with none but the sanction of those letters to comprehend the dissolute world around.

Life was well and the jigsaw puzzles did indeed fit into a picture; nevermind the jagged edges. Life was as the norms dictated, as the government wanted its citizens to be, as his organisation wanted its employees to be, as the TV ads wanted everyone to be. All norms were followed and balanced and repeated till they became his life and his story. He believed it to be like any other story he read, just the same mix of reality and imagination.

Till one day, he fell in love. To be fair, it was actually a day that he remembered his love, and did not let the thoughts express a surreal image but instead felt himself reminiscing those memories. It was a strange feeling. His heart raced faster than usual and his textbook reactions were muddled up. It was so different than all the stories he had read, all the messages ingrained. His instinct was to distrust this feeling, and he trusted his instincts and wanted to push it all away. But, this was the moment that he had been waiting for ! The universe did beckon. His heart finally felt light, and he realised that there was such a heavy burden which felt lifted away, which he had completely overlooked for so many days. The scary part was that it was not in the script. He did not know the next lines, he had not encountered words describing the path ahead. And our regular guy was scared, goosebumps lined his body as his drew his breath sharply in.

He suddenly realised that these crossroads had been beckoned by his own memories. A voice inside his head dictated, this is but your creation and what you create once, can be repeated at your will. At the moment, you may be slightly unprepared, but fear not, there is plenty of support back where you came from. Close this chapter from your head and you can return at a suitable time, suitably prepared to seize the moment. Letters are indeed so malicious and hazardous under their innocent bystander looks. The iron was struck when it was hot. He succumbed and distracted his thoughts away, like a skillful magician conjures the rabbit away.

Now, at this very moment, he is dreaming of that moment when it will all come together, when the jigsaw will rearrange without touching it, and when he will be who he doesn’t really understand but misses deeply, himself.

Reva

If there was ever a girl who loved style, it was Reva. Her clothes, shoes and accessories were always perfectly matched as she gallivanted around at college. Her face would have minimal make-up but then her skin was blemishless and perfect, evidently well – taken care of. Her nails would be long and curved, painted with colours and designs even as others simply blunted their growing nails. She loved fashion, just because it was fashionable. It was never an attempt of showing off to hide insecurities, or maybe making heads turn to bolster her ego, it was the purest love that drove her to be stylish.

                She was a simple girl, as simple as adults could be in a convoluted world. Her likes and dislikes may have been clear, just as she knew her heart, but who knows what the heart knows and why. She loved her friends, who enjoyed the cheerful bubbly company of Reva. Her concern at other’s distress and attempts to solve even the smallest of problems which did not need solving were simply what her heart dictated. College friends like any other group of human beings are capable of fondness as well as incredible cruelty and Reva was often laughed at, and less respected for who she was.

                In her trueness, she was also in love. The person of interest was definitely in love with her too, but that was evident only partially, only sometimes. For the rest of the days, he was an absent force, as he chose priorities that did not include Reva. Why did he never call, we asked. “He does not enjoy talking over the phone much”. Why is he not choosing a career which will allow Reva to work too, we wondered. “He is passionate about … it is his life and I must adjust to it. Reva’s answers were always devoted to her beloved, almost like the mythical Meera praising Krishna who would never be hers.

                Simplicity is often mistaken for foolishness, especially where the latter trait is predominant. Yet Reva was not stupid. She knew the consequences of her devotion which were contrary to the empowered feminists of our college. When the empowered women asked her “why are you wasting your time with this loser? Instead of planning your life around him when you should be planning yours?”, Reva merely smiled. Then were her friends who were believers of the Golden Mean. ‘Marriage’, they proclaimed, ‘is a matter of mutual understanding and compromise’. Clearly when this guy does not care about your life and needs, why are you running after him, they insinuated. It was almost a crime, pardonable in the lower uneducated village bumpkins, but completely unbecoming of Reva.

                Reva had her moment of doubt too, which she confided in me, since she sensed a little less underlying criticism. Am I really throwing away me life, she wondered? There are so many ideas I have, and am capable to working on, am I being foolish in sacrificing them all? There was little to comment or clarify, she knew the answers as well as the questions. Yet she never acted on them. It required too much courage perhaps? Or perhaps it was not the courageous decision; to follow her heart would be mark of true bravery.

                College ended. Towards the end, it had become impossible to keep track of Reva’s fights and break-ups with her guy. One day they would decide to separate, and the next they would be together, proclaiming eternal love which would overcome all differences. It was becoming too complicated and messy. We kept reassuring her that all would work out well, and proximity would ease the strain of a long distance relationship. Things would work out when they were in the same city. In our hearts we prayed for the final break-up to happen as soon as possible.

                The funny part of being in love is that one grows to accept pain. Similar behaviour from a stranger does not elicit as much pain because there is far less longing. In love one begins to accept that the path of being together is deeply inter-twined with severe pain. So much so that one even begins to ignore its impact. After all, pain is our body and our mind’s way to communicate that something untoward is on, so that we are able to address it and relieve ourselves of pain. Alas, lovers never have that luxury. They are doomed to pain, till they begin to love it. And that’s where Reva had reached.

                Time flies at its own pace, and perhaps only mocks the pain of lovers. As the calendar pages flipped, we settled down in different cities and began earning our livings. Reva was still with that guy, we commented or heard in a get-together of friends.  The magic of distance moulded the impression of her life and we almost began to believe by telling ourselves that everything would work out great since they were now in the same city.

                The marriage came as a surprise. Deep in our hearts, it was more of a shock than a surprise, a reminder of an unpleasant truth which had popped out. We saw the pictures on facebook, she looked just the same, yet glowing in the bridal attire. The dancing, the mehndi, the garlands, the pheras, the celebrations were picture perfect. No money or efforts had been spared for a beautiful marriage. Of course the unpleasantness of dowry discussions, or gifts, or pointless squabbles or the financial worries never show, the photos are our way of remembering things as they should have happened.

The warning signs were evident even in this new start. There was no honeymoon since the groom had no time and was off on training. Reva was welcomed in the in-laws house, an outsider to be treated with care in a small town, while the husband paid occasional visits.

I met her a few days ago. She had changed so much. She narrated that there was one beauty parlour in the whole area and going there was strictly taboo. So was painting her nails or wearing make-up. Except for salwar kameezes and sarees she was not allowed to wear anything else. Of course she was loved by her in-laws, but were finally answerable to the society they had lived in for so many years. Her husband loved her very much too and often defended her say, when he came home. In his infrequent trips, said her furtive glance. I have been waking up at 5 in the morning to cook and clean since there are no maids at home. I tried to put on my most encouraging face. To tell myself that Reva chose this, and one should be happy for one’s choice. Isn’t that what empowerment was about – to be able to choose in one’s life and then live by those choices? ‘I have spoken to him about moving to a different town where we can live the way we want to, maids, travel et al. He doesn’t want to leave his parents alone, but still he is thinking about it because he loves me so much. Once we move, things will be good and we will settle.’ Eternal hope, the elixir that we all wish to find was always abundant with Reva. I hugged her tightly and wished her all the happiness that the stars could bring.