http://avayshukla.blogspot.com/2020/05/the-lock-down-diaries-viii-feel-little.html
I read this piece with a growing sense of the truth that the author speaks. Yes, the middle class well ensconced India does ot see the other India... they could well be children of other gods. And of course the helplessness to be part of justice is embedded in the lore of Karma. I also read the comments, empathetic, acknowledging, lashing out, critical of the author's location.
The refrain of 'do something' is very interesting...
Attempting to do something is a humbling experience. stringing words is easier than actually attempting to alleviate the mindless suffering of even a few human beings. Doing something, anything entails being ready for failure, futility encountering the magnitude of the problem. Face to face,, as a responsible citizen, human being, someone who does not justify the historical past, personal or national, but is ready to meet the suffering he sees before his eyes.
In the face of suffering, a crowded platform in Bangalore or in UP, whose responsibility was it to ensure social distancing.
Who or what was responsible for the vast multitudes walking, cycling or trying to hitch a ride? Those desperate to get home are expected to maintain distance and not push. Anyone who has travelled in a Mumbai local train, or an unreserved compartment or been at a railway station during the time of a major religious event would know that in a crowd, would know that in a crowd there is no chance of independent action. One does not push because one wants to but because one is pushed along. And for a large number, the vast majority, jostling pushing, being pushed is a daily reality.
But there are others, who travel in first class on trains, in ac buses, and cars, self driven and driver driven, who cant bear to be pushed or jostled. Our havens allow us the safe havens of isolation, and escape from the contaminating contact with human sweat. We also sweat, but in T shirts when we exercise or run, wearing expensive shoes with foreign music in our ears. Sweat is only acceptable in such circumstances. One eats pizza and burger while the other still eats roti and dal. Can the two ever eat at the same table, speak the same language or will they always be strangers ....
Today the fear of the other, accentuate the divides in the population. It will drive the markets crazy figuring out the segmentation. If India is one nation, the markets cannot unite us, not the army, nor war, nor religion, nor rituals of bonhomie in designer suits, not expensive clothes or brands.
Who has created this economy of shortages where space and dignity are available, not as right, but for a price? And how have a large number of us accepted the cooped chicken location of personal space, individual preferences, door delivery of everything? How have we blinded ourselves to the plight of citizens, less privileged than us? Is the sad truth that, insensitively, we have allowed our souls to be purchased in exchange for comfort and blindness, for silence and for cheering when asked.
One has had the privilege of sharing meals, every day, sitting seamlessly with men, women and children, from the city and the village. The tables are round, no head neither tail, only equal positions.
There is no greater equaliser than the floor. One wonders if we can claim our birthright to the common ground, the common soil, as perishable equal human beings, none more equal than the other, none so important as to need special access, none so unimportant as to not have a voice. Will we have the space then to listen, ask questions and speak our truths.
I read this piece with a growing sense of the truth that the author speaks. Yes, the middle class well ensconced India does ot see the other India... they could well be children of other gods. And of course the helplessness to be part of justice is embedded in the lore of Karma. I also read the comments, empathetic, acknowledging, lashing out, critical of the author's location.
The refrain of 'do something' is very interesting...
Attempting to do something is a humbling experience. stringing words is easier than actually attempting to alleviate the mindless suffering of even a few human beings. Doing something, anything entails being ready for failure, futility encountering the magnitude of the problem. Face to face,, as a responsible citizen, human being, someone who does not justify the historical past, personal or national, but is ready to meet the suffering he sees before his eyes.
In the face of suffering, a crowded platform in Bangalore or in UP, whose responsibility was it to ensure social distancing.
Who or what was responsible for the vast multitudes walking, cycling or trying to hitch a ride? Those desperate to get home are expected to maintain distance and not push. Anyone who has travelled in a Mumbai local train, or an unreserved compartment or been at a railway station during the time of a major religious event would know that in a crowd, would know that in a crowd there is no chance of independent action. One does not push because one wants to but because one is pushed along. And for a large number, the vast majority, jostling pushing, being pushed is a daily reality.
But there are others, who travel in first class on trains, in ac buses, and cars, self driven and driver driven, who cant bear to be pushed or jostled. Our havens allow us the safe havens of isolation, and escape from the contaminating contact with human sweat. We also sweat, but in T shirts when we exercise or run, wearing expensive shoes with foreign music in our ears. Sweat is only acceptable in such circumstances. One eats pizza and burger while the other still eats roti and dal. Can the two ever eat at the same table, speak the same language or will they always be strangers ....
Today the fear of the other, accentuate the divides in the population. It will drive the markets crazy figuring out the segmentation. If India is one nation, the markets cannot unite us, not the army, nor war, nor religion, nor rituals of bonhomie in designer suits, not expensive clothes or brands.
Who has created this economy of shortages where space and dignity are available, not as right, but for a price? And how have a large number of us accepted the cooped chicken location of personal space, individual preferences, door delivery of everything? How have we blinded ourselves to the plight of citizens, less privileged than us? Is the sad truth that, insensitively, we have allowed our souls to be purchased in exchange for comfort and blindness, for silence and for cheering when asked.
One has had the privilege of sharing meals, every day, sitting seamlessly with men, women and children, from the city and the village. The tables are round, no head neither tail, only equal positions.
There is no greater equaliser than the floor. One wonders if we can claim our birthright to the common ground, the common soil, as perishable equal human beings, none more equal than the other, none so important as to need special access, none so unimportant as to not have a voice. Will we have the space then to listen, ask questions and speak our truths.
With warm regards
Gautama
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