బీయింగ్ కాదు ఎప్పటికీ బికమింగే

తెలిసీతెలియని విషయాలపై పోపుత్వమించడంలో నేను మాహిర్‌ని అయ్యినట్టు అనిపిస్తూంటుంది అప్పుడప్పుడూ. సరే, ఆ విషయం పక్కన పెడితే..

రాబోతున్న బాక్యార్డ్ అల్ట్రా ప్రస్తావనలో నీ మెంటల్ స్టేట్ ఎలా ఉందని నేథన్ ప్రశ్నిస్తే, దానికి సమాధానం వెతుకుతూ ఇంకో సంభాషణలో పాల్గొన్నప్పుడు ఒక ఇన్సైట్ చేజిక్కింది. వెంకట్రావ్‌గారు రిబ్బన్‌ఫామ్‌లో తరుచూ ప్రస్తావించే పుస్తకం జేమ్స్ పీ. కార్స రాసిన ఫైనైట్ & ఇన్ఫినిట్ గేమ్స్. ఆ పుస్తకం నేనింకా చదవలేదు కానీ ఆ టైటిల్లో ఉండే డిస్టింక్షన్ గురించి నేను తెలుసుకున్నదేంటంటే కొన్ని ఆటలు (ఇక్కడ ఆట అనే పదం ఫార్మల్ మాథెమాటికల్ పార్లాన్స్ లో నిర్వచించబడుతోంది) గెలవటానికి ఆడితే కొన్ని ఆటని పొడిగించేదానికి మాత్రమే ఆడతారని. ఆ ఫ్రేమ్వర్క్‌ని నా అల్త్రా మారథాన్‌కి అన్వయిస్తే- మారథాన్ పరిగెత్తడం ఒక విధంగా చూస్తే ఫైనైట్ గేమే అయినా, కాస్త ఫిలసాఫికల్‌గా ఆలోచించగలిగితే అది ఇన్ఫినిట్. పట్టుదలతో, కండలు బిగించి, ఊపిరి బిగబట్టి నేను అనుకున్న గోల్‌ని చేరుకోగలనేమో, అలా 'విజయం' పొందగలనేమొ కానీ నేను ఇన్నాళ్ళుగా ట్రెయిన్ చేసింది అందుకోసం కాదు. ఆర్ పర్హాప్స్ అందుకోసమే కాదు. అసలు పది గంటలు పరిగెత్తడం ఎలా ఉంటుందో, నా మనస్సు-మెదడు-శరీరం ఎలా ఫీల్ అవుతాయో, వాటి ద్వారా యేయే కొత్త అనుభవ ప్రదేశాలు నేను పర్యటించి వస్తానో తెలుసుకోడానికి. పూర్తి చేయడం వల్ల వచ్చే సంతృప్తి, పెరిగే అత్మాభిమానం, ముగ్గురు నలుగురి నుండి వచ్చే మెప్పుకోలు - ఇది ఫైనైట్ ఆస్పెక్ట్, స్టేట్|స్టేటస్‌కు సంబంధించినవి. అంతే కాదు అలా పరిగెత్తడానికి నేను పరిష్కరించాల్సిన 'సమస్యలు'- స్త్రెంగ్త్ & ఎండ్యురెన్స్ ట్రైనింగ్, న్యూట్రిషన్, మెంటల్ ఛాలెంజెస్ మొ|| అన్నీ ఫైనైట్ గేమ్సే అయినా వాటన్నిటి తుది ఉద్దేశ్యము జీవితం అనే ఇన్ఫినిట్ గేమే.

ఆకలి రాజ్యం క్లైమాక్స్‌లో కమల్ హస్సన్ పాత్ర అంటుంది, "ఎలాగోలా బ్రతకాలి అంటే ఎలాగోలా బ్రతికేద్దును, ఇలాగే బ్రతకాలి అనుకున్నాను.. అది వీలుపడటం లేదు". గత కొన్నేళ్ళుగా నేనీ లైన్‌ని ఫ్లిప్ చేసి ఒక జీవిత సత్యాన్ని రాబాట్టాను. "ఇలాగే బ్రతకాలి అంటే గొడవ కానీ ఎలానోలా బ్రతికేయడం అంత కష్టం కాద"ని. అంటే ఆదర్శాలు లేకుండా మానాభిమానాలు వదిలేసి బ్రతకమని కాదు. ఒకటి మన ఆదార్శాలని కూడా కాస్త స్కెప్టికల్‌గా చూస్కోమని- ఎవరు చెప్పిందో, ఎప్పుడో అనుకున్నదో ఇప్పుడు వర్తించాలి అనుకోవడానికి కారణం చాలా సార్లు అహం, అజ్ఞానం, అడాప్ట్ కాకపోవడం అని తోచి. రెండు ఈరోజు ఓడినా రేపు గెలవాలంటే ముందు ఈరోజు ఎదురుకున్న కష్టం నుండి బయటపడి బతికి బట్టకట్టాలని.

రచయితలకు సూచనలు టైప్ పోస్ట్స్‌లో మళ్ళీ మళ్ళీ తారసపడే లైన్ "కిల్ యువర్ డార్లింగ్స్". అది మనం రాసిన వాక్యాలకి ఎంతగా వర్తిస్తదో మన ప్రీవియస్ సెల్వ్స్‌కి కూడా అంతేగా వర్తిస్తదేమో. మన పట్ల మనకున్న ఇమేజ్, అది గతానిదైనా వర్తమానానిదైనా, మనల్ని మోహించి మభ్యపెట్టే అవకాశం ఉంది. పర్సనాలిటీ అనేది అప్పుడప్పుడూ పనికొచ్చే ఫిక్షన్. దాన్ని చాలా వివేకంతో హాండ్ల్ చేయాలి. లేకుంటే అది మనల్ని మోహరించి, మనల్నే ఖైదు చేస్తుంది. "ఇది నేను, ఇలా ఉండటం నా అలవాటు, నాకు అవి తెలియవు" -- ఇలాంటి ప్రకటనల్లో సత్యం ఎంత ఉన్నది అన్నది ప్రశ్న కాదు, అది నిన్ను ఏం చేయనివ్వకుండా ఆపుతోందన్నది పెద్ద ప్రశ్న. దాని ఆపర్చ్యునిటీ కాస్ట్ ఏంటని. మంచి-చెడుల కన్నా సబబు-కాదు అనేది బెటర్ ఫ్రేసింగ్.

"నిన్ను నువ్వు పునర్నిర్మించుకోవాలంటే విరగ్గొటుకునే నేర్పుండాలి", అని రాశారు శివారెడ్డి గారు. చాలా ఏళ్ళు నాకు నేను వేసుకున్న చిక్కుముళ్ళల్లోని ఆకృతుల్ని చూస్తూ నిశ్చేష్టుణ్ణైనాను, ఇంకొన్నాళ్ళు వాటిని ఏకధాటిగా తెంపేసే మార్గం చూపే నాధుణ్ణి వెతికాను, మరి కొన్నాళ్ళు ఒకటీ ఒకటీ విప్పే విధానల్ని ఆలోచిస్తూ ఉండిపోయాను. ఈ మధ్య అనిపిస్తోంది ఒక ఆలోచనా ధోరణి సృష్టించిన సమస్యలను అదే పరిష్కరించలేదని. ఏమరపాటుగా ఉంటే ఆ పర్టిక్యులర్ చిక్కుముళ్ళ కాన్ఫిగరేషనే మన పర్సనాలిటీ అనుకొని సర్దిచెప్పుకుంటాం, ఆప్యాయతని పెంచుకుంటాం. అద్వైతవాది నువ్వు అవేవీ కావు అన్న అవగాహనే జ్ఞానం అంటాడేమో. కానీ ఒక భౌతికవాదిగా నా ఇంక్లినేషన్ దానికి పూర్తి వ్యతిరేకంగా ఉంది. కాంబినేటోరియల్లీ స్పీకింగ్, అసంఖ్యాకర ముళ్ళ కాన్ఫిగరేషన్స్ ఉన్నాయి ఈ ప్రపంచంలో. నా డ్రైవింగ్ ఫోర్స్: బతికున్నాళ్ళల్లో వీలైనన్నింటిని అనుభవించడం. అలా చేయాలంటే ప్రతిరోజూ ఇది నేను అని నిర్వచించుకొని దాని చుట్టూ గిరిగీసుకోవడం కాకుండా బయటక కనబడిన దాన్ని ఆహ్వానిస్తూ ఇదీ నేనే అంటూ ఆ గీతని ఇంకాస్త చెరిపేసుకోవడం.

నాన్న

I'm going to become a father; Thanks to you buddi. I fell in love the day I saw you in the first scan and you waved. Done. Game, Set, Match. The inexplicable joy and gratitude and possessiveness I've felt for you has only grown. Both your Amma and I can't wait to welcome you into the world, and try to be the best parents we can be.

I've been meaning to write to you for a while now, for one because that is the best way nanna knows to express, for another so that what I write to you will act as a north star in instances when I'm not being the best father I can be. Also, ofcourse, because in case something happens to me and I'm not around, this is some of the best of what I can give you. And so that you can think of me sometimes. Nanna loves you very much.

I wanted to talk to you about 3 things today. The most truthful way of calling it would be life gyaan so, without making it more cringey than it needs to be, let's dive in:

1/ Agency

Prize action over thought. You are an embodied being, your intelligence is in your body. To be fully alive is to embrace the possiblities and limitations of that fact. Ofcourse there is a place for thought and there are times when it makes sense to spend sometime on your thoughts irrespective of what your body demands. More often than not though, you should have, in a phrase that used to be lobbied around at Flipkart, a Bias for Action. It is very easy for your mind to come untethered from its more immediate environment, to be inward-looking, self-obsessed, self-enamoured (look around this blog if you want a proof), and the only way to snap out of it is to act. That is the greatest feedback loop evolution has given us (though perhaps anthropomorphising evolution is totally not done, sorry Prof. Dawkins). Venkat Rao thatha (who I'm sure you'll hear a lot about from your old man) once wrote that a good sign of intelligence is the ability to increase the realm of the doable. Doable being the operative word. Ofcourse, you don't have to place yourself in situations where you become totally vulnerable and that is where thought comes in- to create sandbox environments and failsafe mechanisms in which you can interact with reality aka the physical environment. To use a pithy statement of Prof. Peterson's, "Utility trumps Truth". This kind of materialism is a position nanna has arrived at after wandering quite a bit and has found it has brought him the most, recursively speaking, agency. But why is agency a good thing, you might ask. As you grow older you will learn about axiomatic first principles, the strange loop-y character of consciousness (unless its supplanted by a better theory) but for now let it suffice that most of our lives are defined by our actions and in the absence of a divine, all-encompassing answer, the one unalienable motive of life must be to go on living and experience as much as possible. Sometimes that could precisely mean occassions where one must relinquish agency but they're the exception and not the norm.

2/ Certainty

Always question- out of curiosity, out of skepticism, out of defiance. Never completely accept received wisdom. Including obviously what I'm telling you now or whenever. That doesn't mean be skeptical about everything to the point of nihilism. Use it as a tool- appropriately, tastefully, intelligently self-servingly. To use Hartosh Singh Bal gari lilting phrase, you should have 'a certain ambiguity'. It is important to understand that all truths are context-specific, ofcourse some more useful, more widely-applicable than others, but nonetheless limited. So is intelligence. You could feel like you are the smartest person in a particular room at one point- Enjoy it, cherish it, don't take it too seriously for one day you will be in another room where you won't be. Welcome that experience too. For as you view others' statements judiciously, it is imperative you do that to the statements popping out of your head- it is good for the soul to be self-deprecating, to not take oneself too seriously let alone one's strongly held positions. Nothing is permanent. It is better to let your theories die in your stead as Prof. Popper would've said. Again, link this skepticism to the previous point. The point of questioning shouldn't be an end in itself, it should serve a higher purpose. That is where you use, and build, your intuition. Experience is the only teacher. Words are, at best, useful crutches.

3/ Magic

I imagine that one of my nicknames for you will be Jadu. Ofcourse after the great Javed Akhtar saab. Ofcourse because the love I feel for you, what stirs in my heart when I see you is nothing short of magic. Also because the world is a magical place and one must try to always stay enchanted. The magic I speak about refers to things like the incredible variation and ingenuity of evolution, the diamond-sheen of a theoretical proof, the sophistication of a well-constructed philosophical argument, the adaptability and anti-fragility of human societies and structures, the goodness of a lovingly cooked and served meal, the jugaadu working of a problem-solving smile-bringing hack, the effect that music and poetry have, even the fact that something as amazing, as unbelievable as language exists. As Douglas Adams once wrote, "I'd take the awe of understanding over the awe of ignorance any day." For all that is remarkably cruel and petty about humans, we have a lot to be proud of. Cherish it, it is your heritage. Build on top of it. I call it magic not because something spectacular happens and it mind-scrambles us. That is the short-living kind. I call it magic because of the fact that in this vast universe, as far as we know, things work remarkably well here. And more so, we have found ways to not just build on it but also explain it to ourselves. How wonderful is knowledge, right?! The fact that something can be so opaque, so inexplicable initially but thanks to other humans, and our minds and hands, reveal itself to contain all sorts of interesting patterns and intriguing connections. It is magic of the best kind.

That's all I have for you today. Gosh, I'm so excited for your arrival, and can't wait to hangout with you all the time.

Love,
Always (this is one thing I'm certain of),
Nanna

ah now i see it, its a pensieve. oh no, it isn't

The last 4 days in Canggu have been such a counter to the first 3 in Ubud that if I were so inclined, Id've called it Karma Reimbursement. Out of Sight is indeed Out of Mind. Wormholing ourselves into a super fancy resort on the morning of 02-Aug, we quickly forgot the troubles of Ubud thanks to the private pool, obsequious staff, showers that completely open to the sun, and a certain kind of All Day Brekkie Aussie food. So much so that Bali itself almost receded into the background, and there was the mindspace to unpack and discuss on the problems we'd brought from home.  

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Hands down the first 3 days were far more action-packed, intense, memorable, which is what one claims one wants from a holiday to a different country, with that repeatedly expressed desire to get an authentic taste of the place, to be pushed out of one's comfort zone, and to have experiences that leave such a deep mark as to turn into little tales that'll be told years from now. Well, one is not always right then. Or perhaps one is getting old, or boring, or unagile, or making peace with/succumbing to the ways of the world. One buys bottled water without constantly feeling ashamed, seeks comfortable spaces, prefers to withdraw into private spaces for which one has to pay a premium but one feels its worth it because one 'works hard to be able to relax', doesn't he? One relaxes enough to blog, write a letter providing life gyaan while acrobatically pontificating that one doesn't want to precisely do that, to workout and go for a dip, and to reconsider the past few days in a more measured, even philosophical vein, thinking fondly about the trip to the Monkey Sanctuary and Pura Tirta Empul and the delicious food and the Candi Bentars, and telling himself, quite contentedly, in that tone of a certain character from Malgudi Days, "Well, one needs the unpleasant to better appreciate the pleasant". One finds it easy to assuage his, what William Finnegan in one of the first few fabulous pages of Barbarian Days that one found in the carefully curated books of one's more expensive, even fancier resort called, liberal guilt. And as one thinks he has made peace with the world, as he lowers himself into the cool waters of his private pool, that overlooks the private rice fields of the hotel, on a very hot afternoon, he hears a loud rustle. He raises his head to spot a man, covered from head to toe, wearing a traditional Balinese straw hat, and waving a flag made of a big, black plastic sheet. Why? So that, and this one derives from observing the said person throughout the day is a job, he can drive away the birds that threaten to eat the crop. Both men look at each other for a long moment before the flag-waver walks away, leaving the other to mutter to himself, WTAF.

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Bringing Naipaul's The Writer and the World on this trip has been an act of serendpity because his essays on post-colonial societies were supremely useful in trying to make sense of understanding the present condition of the Balinese Economy. The reason I used the word wormhole earlier, pointedly, is because sometimes I feel when people of a certain class travel across places, they find themselves being transported without coming in contact with how most of the society lives- Money has that power. Both here and in Fiji, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was some sort of a brown sahib, a quasi-coloniser, or atleast a beneficiary of a colonising power, who has come to, say, a Dalhousie or Mussourie, to spend a few pleasant weeks in nature. Obviously, I'm able to afford this extravagance, spending thousands of dollars on a week's vacation, yet I don't feel comfortable receiving the service. Because I know that the respect and obedience is for the money, not for me- which is this entity that I can't properly define but is somehow my character that's seperate to my money or borrowed prestige ("Comes from Australia, speaks good English etc.") The same is probably as true in Australia itself, considering its history of colonolisation and displacement, but since the Aboriginals aren't as abundantly visible there, it doesn't irk one's conscience so much. I'd like to think all this isn't just some self-serving, responsibility-to-act-abdication handwringing but a more genuine internal conflict that is not convinced with the stories being peddled for why the world is the way it is and is trying to figure out either better explanations or more compassionate actions.

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In some senses a writer, okay a blogger, is always performing. No, that's not the word for it invokes falsity, pretension. He is always on-duty, constantly observing, judging, validating, reshaping, jigsawing every incident, interaction, feeling in service of a larger picture, with an insistence on articulating everything to make sense of, to justify his actions, his presence, often his very existence. It didn't happen if it hasn't found its way, ప్రత్యక్షంగా/పరోక్షంగా, onto the blog. It is a bizarre (self-imposed?) burden. It is also a habit, a trait that makes the world a place of wonder, all experiences valuable, turns life into a series of questions, a never-ending parade of "Yeah, But Why?"s. Is it mental diarrhea? A good quality to cultivate? Must one be equivocal about it, perhaps even in that problematic Whataboutery-sense, and say, "Meh, what can one do? Everything has both good and bad." What is the best way to live? Is it even possible to define a good life in an absolute, observer-neutral sense? Especially when for almost all of the time, the observer is also the liver himself, and the mind's a prick. Why do I keep saying the same stuff over and over and over again? Fuck, I'm so bored with so much of the shit that goes on in my head. कुछ नया लिख के आ बे | I suspect every filmmaker, every actor, is literally playing and seeing themselves in the scene- when I say performing I mean it like that, like having a double vision, still being in the moment but now with one eye seeing oneself in the scene.

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How good is Kalyani Malik!

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Why do I find resort-conducted 'cultural activities' so off-putting? Why must the means of production taint the creation of a cultural artefact? Then isn't this a variation of Sravani's argument for boycotting performances of sexual abusers which I protest against? Well, no cultural product takes place in a vacuum and if the narration of an experience with it starts with the line, "We were in our hotel and there was a show, and since we had nothing better to do, we went downstairs", can only be off-putting. Which reminds me of this terrific social experiment the violinist Joshua Bell did a few years ago that goes onto prove that it is mostly the sense of occassion that people bring to the said occassion that makes it special in their heads. Which is paradoxical and stupefying because the rhetoric of great art is precisely that is hits you unexpectedly and rises above the circumstance as Dibakar Banerjee recounts in a lovely anecdote about watching Taxi Driver for the first time. There was a time when I couldn't eat in a restaurant where there was live music because I thought I was insulting the musicians by going on about my business when they were performing. Now there's still some of that feeling of shame but not too much so that I can continue my conversation or give a perfunctory round of appluase. What happens to us as we grow older? Towards the end of our Justice lectures, and I never tire repeating this particular bit, Prof. Pratap Bhanu Mehta said something like, "All these theoritical and philosophical discussions are one thing. If you notice the behaviour of young children, you'll see that they have an intuitive grasp of injustice. If we're able to retain that, we don't need all of this." A remnant of that is what I perhaps felt when I saw that man toiling in the sun for a fraction of what I spent for the room for a night, and I couldn't convince myself that I deserved this and he deserved that. Is this genuine hurt or self-posturing I don't know anymore.

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Obviously this same concern has found its way onto this blog in various shapes over the years- is there a point to any of this 'authentic' sharing and is this just incompetence, a lack of imagination, frivolousness masquerading as something real and honest when all I'm doing is masturbating in public. Sometimes I feel that the only way to focus on the outside and learn new things and understand more about the world can only happen when I get this out of the way and this blog is an excuse/ medium for that. Other times I worry if its a moral hazard, that I'll never 'outgrow' this phase because I've continued to invest more and more capital on this over the years that this is now expected behaviour, the status quo. The more I try to exhaust myself of this so that I can finally move to more interesting, more important stuff, the more never-ending this flow seems to become. Is the only way to escape is to snap out of it? Go cold turkey and decide that I'm never going to write about these preoccupations again? Then for long periods nothing seems to flow, and my mind becomes so cramped with all these unexpressed thoughts that it feels like I don't have time to read, watch, think about anything new. ఈ లొల్లి సరిపొదన్నట్టు కొబ్బరి చిప్పకి కోతి దొర్కినట్టు గిసుంటివి దొర్కుతాంటై- ఈరోజు శ్రావణి పంపింది.

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The question I suppose becomes this: should one try to change one's way of being, with the Why, How and To What needing to be subsequently answered, or should embrace one's way of being, even if it means one then has to carry the deficiencies that one acknowledges in oneself forever and carry the risk of subsequently becoming intelligible only to oneself for the unalienable fact that it is what seems most natural- The former feels more ends-driven, the latter more proximate mood-driven. Or more prosaically, does one cultivate a style, a personality consciously that becomes a capsule powerful enough to take one places even if it means one is occassionally cramped or does one remain the 'free-flowing' (and I have that in quotes because despite what one may tell themselves, it too comes with its constraints) being, at the cost of more immediate misunderstandings, if it means one remains and creates something original? Insert Prof. Udayan Vajpeyi quote here. Or obviously does one find a balance between the two, and if so how, especially since one is convinced that the way to go about it can't be, atleast entirely, through the intellect. How does one become a Charlie Kaufman, a DFW, a Meher, a Rajireddy without becoming them? Obviously there's craft there but also originality. How ra?

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I really don't know why I have intermittently used one as the pronoun.

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What is the metaphor that most accurately describes writing- is it mining for gold, cultivating a garden, going on a journey. Or as my uneducated Sufiyana suggests, all of it. Even this is such a phenomenal conundrum because if Sufism is supposed to be the natural way of being, then why is mine so crude and confused? And if it, like most valuable things in life, has to be learnt with passion and rigour, then why is it the most natural way and different from other philosophical schools? Wait a second, why this fasincation with Natural ('Organic', 'Detox', 'Rejuvenating') and why do I think Sufism is the most natural state of being?

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Screw it, I'm going for a swim.

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Damn, its closed for cleaning, so now I'm back.

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మా అమ్మ గిసుంటి ముచ్చటంతా సదివి లాస్ట్ల అడిగినట్టు, "అసలు ఏం చెప్పదల్చుకున్నావు? పాయింట్ ఏంటి?", అంటే నా సమాధానం, "గీ ముచ్చటే చెప్పదల్చుకున్నది. పాయింట్ ఏందో నాక్ భీ తెల్వది."