As far back as I can remember, I always had my own views, mostly different than those surrounding me. This eccentricity has caused me a good share of trouble and there was a time when I even did not like this difference and tried to confirm or atleast give an appearance of confirmation to the views  of those surrounding me. This was seen as lack of good behavior at home and indiscipline at school. In summation, I was that kid in the class, family and neighborhood whose future certainly was going to be troublesome. I remember one particular incidence from my third year of schooling when i denied copying a work from one of my notebooks to other,  I was confronted by the teacher, who was totally clueless what to say when a student denies to do as asked. She tried to first order me, then intimidate me by taking me to the principal and calling my parents. I was scared as hell ( I must have been as I recall me crying all over my bench), but some how, I just had one question, why should I re-write something, from one notebook to other, which the teacher had no reasoning, a smarter teacher could have cooked up a reason, but I understand now, teachers in our country do way beyond what they are paid and they have no inclination to be more smart, for a kid who is definitely undisciplined.  The end result, I was taken crying to the principal, my parents were called, and thankfully they agreed to take me out of that school the following year.

The schools might have changed over my 12 years of education, but my troubles continued to be bound to this single logic of me thinking I have the right to have my own opinion and state it in public. This led me right into the trouble, countless times, streching from that school room, to the corridors of one of the biggest research institutes of the country. Now surprisingly, two things remained same in all these years of my troubles, me having my own views and my inclination to say them, and people despising me having my own views. I have problem understanding the second equally enough to the first. I still do not understand, why these people in authority, hated even my innocuous, debatable view, debatable because I argued in favor of it, but I assume they hated it because they did not even thought its worth debating against their own understanding of the things. Amidst these condition, I really tried to give up my views and follow instructions, but only for so long, coz to follow, means to not think for your self( “I was once literally told to not use my brain”), but for me following was a series of infinite decision at each step, and each step, I was not able to convince that my foot are following my brain or heart. I needed atleast one to agree with my foot, ultimately, my foot followed my brain and my heart and oops I was again in trouble.

The exact events although interesting, are not the topic of today’s mumbling, I will talk about those some other day. There was so much common between these first and this trouble, but there was one undeniable difference, the power of the authority was of a different order altogether. This was an experience for lifetime, it taught me, that courage is not shouting out loud “like the famous “How is the Josh”, followed by High Sir, its just saying NO when you know the consequence of that NO, its saying NO, against your million of years of evolutionary instincts. I am happy, I said NO. It was liberating, It was a re-birth, but a rebirth in an abyss, so deep, light was just an abstract thought, and thus began the journey, to see the light. Again, contrary to the popular belief, I know something different, or rather am opined to something different, I know, I will not just see the light, but there will be light, soon.

It is a remarkable feat of courage then that we still are able to make that call or drive to meet someone, in spite of the dread of being judged on the abovementioned limitations, and we should be proud of ourselves on this, but rather, when we actually meet/talk, somehow, all we mostly seem to be doing is proving the absence of that dread in the first place by actually starting with the same struggle to prove that how the life is perfect, how we were quintessentially busy, and how this meeting is one-off, an exception in this perfect self-sufficient world of ours.

Intermittently, our sad self shows up in these talks, and we do mention our aloneness and our sadness following that uncontrollable urge for human companionship, the problems of the week show through the cracks of the perfect facade, only to realize the other person’s words are also hollow, not realizing that they are fighting the same battle within. In fact, it is only under some kind of toxication it is that we can actually talk, and even the toxications are not strong enough to break us out of our shells of perfect lives. So, eventually, all such conversations (if you can say this conversation) are bound to end with talk about what we are tarined for talking about the best, “work, ambition, goals”, and things we are fed at least 5/6 days a week. By this time, we are already regretting and thinking of the futility of the heroic decision we made to meet to talk, which has lead to this competitive game of proving whose work and life is better, and we start judging the person, sometimes even having scorn for the hollowness of the person, not realizing the other person is thinking and feeling the exact same thing. This is mostly followed by, a continuous list of achievements and plans, and then once in a while, it so happens that we do feel the emptiness in the eyes and words of the other person and see the longing for a real conversation we share, and we see our scorn mitigating and getting replaced by sympathy and finally empathy, we want to give our hand to the person, saying “I understand”, “I too feel it” , but sadly, we don’t have the vocabulary to talk about these feelings, and we just say, “how is life otherwise?”, a question which as meaningless as any other, and bring on the forever makeup…

No, don’t get me wrong, I am not saying my brain does not understand my identity, that I am a Muslim, and that somehow, a lot of people are not happy with this. I do, I have seen my abba, who I think is also a Muslim, the other day he was talking about having a different nightmare, where he is peacefully bowing to god in a corner of a train, and then a policeman comes in the train… He stops there while telling this to Ammi, I don’t understand, how is a policeman a nightmare if you are praying? But then, I am just a child, I don’t know so many things. Anyways, he sighed saying, “I was lucky I removed my cap at the right time”, I don’t know, i didn’t understand his story, what is with the cap, How that saved him? My abba is a bad storyteller, I guess, If I was his teacher, i would fail him.

Oh, sorry, I wander-off while talking, yes, i was saying, that I am standing in front of the classroom, and the teacher asked all my friends to come and hit me, she was angry, she was angry I think because I am a Muslim, she is not happy with lack of force in the punches of my friends, I can’t feel all those, i can’t see much as my eyes are all watery, all I feel is a shame, about my small child brain which neither prepared me for this thing in nightmares nor can understand, “what cap I shall remove quickly to be saved?”, i don’t have a cap here in the classroom…… oh now its the turn of my best friend, … to slap me, he looks sad, i know he too has a small brain like me, he too can’t understand any of this, none of us small brains can i think….. but, we will learn, that is what a school is for, “Learning”, isn’t it?

For instance, when we show our hate or anger against a group, minority (or majority), we always tend to think in terms of groups, never being able to ungroup individuals from these groups. On most occasion, this subconscious grouping does not make a difference because the other thing these social media does is create silos of like-minded people; as a result, most of the individuals we interact with in our actual world (outside of the Metaversr FB is desperately trying to sell us) are in the same group as ours. However, sometimes, these group boundaries become fluid, and now our anger or judgment against the group collides with an individual in the group. The problem becomes even more severe when the individual is particularly close to using in the real world. This could be a close friend, a colleague, or a loved one. I feel some readers are thinking, why would I care about this individual, my feelings for a group are real, and if this individual is a representative of that group, then my feelings rightly extend to the individual. I might hide my feeling out of civility, but that’s all; there is no fundamental flaw in this.

This line of thinking does make sense. However, the problem is that often these feelings against a group (or in favor of one) are seldom based on our own experiences; in most cases, these are the product of how others react online. Because remember, we are in a rush to take sides fast and express our support or opposition before we lose our attention to the next thing in our doom scrolling. So what happens, in this rush we express an opinion, an opinion which is not ours, directed towards a group we do not know, and it goes in this sink of opinions called the internet and gets lost forever. However, occasionally, it may boomerang and tear the boundaries of the group and hit someone we love or admire.

When this happens, the individual at the receiving end cannot differentiate himself from the group. This instantiation of the individual for a group is not that hard to think logically; after all, individuals make the group in the first place, but we are never ready for such a conflation, and all that is left is a loved relationship with unwanted knots.

However, there is a deeper learning in all this; when we see our judgment against the group realizing into an individual, we are forced to rethink and reevaluate our opinion, judgment, and anger. We see in clear light how flawed our initial decision to rush was. Most importantly, we see that what very often we see as our opinion is actually just our eagerness to belong to a group which very often translates into alienating another group, a group we know nothing about personally.

So next time you feel the urge to opine against a group, think of an individual you know who may belong to that group; you will see your judgment relaxing, your opinions changing, and your anger receding. The need is to find the missing individual in social media groups.

For so long I thought that the spirit of survival is what makes the greatest of humans and other species, but with time I am realizing, what separates the greatest humans in any field is not the survival but the spirit of endurance. One way to understand the difference is to understand with a similar difference between “surviving” and “living”. Enduring is not just surviving, rather living. Its not just accepting the now but rather also changing the tomorrow, its not just standing your ground in the storm, but rather gaining ground while others will cower. Its not just accepting, but embracing.

So for long I tried to survive, but today, I decided to endure and filter out from my past experience and without being depressed or scared, use it to change the course of the things in the future. Today, I just did not hold my ground when challenged, I moved forward using my past scars. Today I learned the meaning of endurance.

In those moments of confusion and half-hearted convincing, often we changed, our understanding changed so did our sides. whatever we are, our thoughts, our still very raw understanding of the world, our lives, all are shaped by that fluidity in our ideas. Without that fluidity, I would have been like a rock which anyhow has to change shape, but only when it is attacked by rough winds for decades. I feel it is good to be a rock, but only if it is preceded by a phase of fluid molten lava because once we take that shape, it is hard to reshape and life passes in a blink. It is good to know, when to change and when to wither slowly and that indeed is hardest.

So yes, I used to talk, but now, we all seem to just be.

The problem is, that we cannot solve what we cannot comprehend, and comprehending imaginary dangers is challenging. The moment we try to analyze its rationale, it vanishes, but the very next moment it is back. I am sure we all have felt this feeling, lived through this fear, if you have you know this is what anxiety looks like. The continuous heaviness of the breathing, continuous fear of something dangerous in the future, continuous unrest even amidst holidays.

Amidst this randomness of life, there is a refuge of some certainty, called Love, reserved only for a very fortunate few. I feel you get loved when the higher power is truly in a mood, or maybe truly fed up with your continuous prayers, demands or just seeing your face daily in the morning, so (s)he just gives you someone who loves you and then switches off your channel for a while, knowing that you don’t need the higher power, at least for a while, until you make a blunder and push the love away.

ऊँचे ऊँचे सपनों से भरा था शहर, यूँ तो ,
पता नहीं किसके सपने थे वो , इतने ऊँचे , इतने बड़े |
मैंने खुद गढ़ा , पोता , चमकाया , कितने ही ऐसे सपनों को ,
पर भूल के भी , देख न पाया |
रोटी से ढंकी रहीं मेरी आँखें , और फिर रोटी भी बड़ी चाहिए थी अब ,
तीन से चार हो गेय थे |

एक दिन , स्कूल बंद हो गया ,
ऊँचे सपनों को बनाने वाली मिलें भी ,
अब मैंने देखा, मैं किनके सपनो को चमक से भर रहा था,
सब अपने , सपनों में , सहमे हुए , राजा को सुन रहे थे |

अगले दिन सब, सब थालिया बजा रहे थे , चमकदार ,
कुछ थालियों को तो मेरी ही जोरू ने सुबह चमक दी थी |
हमने भी रोटी के कुछ अंतिम निवालों को मुँह में ठूंसा ,
और राजा की आज्ञा बजाई,
सब अपने सअपनो में फिर चले गए |

हमारी थाली टूट गयी थी ,
रात गहरी थी ,
सुबह ना स्कूल का पता था , ना रोटी का |

सुबह राजा फिर आया ,
इस बार मैंने भी देखा, सुना ,
उसने ओजस्वी लय में बोला , सब अपने सपनो से न निकलें ,
दुश्मन हार जायेगा |
दुश्मन ? सपने ?
मेरी टूटी थाली का इलाज़ बता दिया उसने ,
रोटी के बारे में बोलना भूल के |

राजा की आज्ञा बजाने निकल पड़े सब,
हम भी निकल गए सपनों में रहने ,
पर सपने तो गाँव में ही छोड़ आये थे,
स्कूल बंद हो गया था ,
थाली टूट चुकी थी ,
और रोटी को राजा भूल चूका था
रास्ता लंबा था
और दो नए कदम , बहुत छोटे |