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When elusive becomes mundane I wonder what it is in the human psyche that is responsible for the perpetual state of discontentment we have with our present circumstances? We are either whining away about the "good old days" or are hankering after the "two in the bush" that are so much more " and "desirable" than all that we have in hand. But the magic of the "elusive" turns into the "mundane" as soon as it actually is ours. Admittedly, some patches from the misty swirls of the past certainly are worth their weight in fond reminiscences in the present. So much of what we complain about in the present was the precise cause of our "discontentment" when the "good old days" were the present and we were hankering after what we now have in hand. We seem to live in a constant state of disillusionment. It is a rather disheartening thought. I have nothing against
competitiveness, lofty goals and the like — so long as the
"race" remains humane and nobody gets trampled either
underfoot or under BMWs. If some trampling is "inevitable"
while we strive to reach the "important" goals we marked for
ourselves in the past, I do not understand the voluble, emotional
grieving about "erosion of values" in the same hypocritical
breath. The trampling is justified in the name of the changed parameters
of "contemporariness" once we reach a milestone and stumble
towards the next, grumbling all the time about how much easier it was in
the "good old days". While, of course, we stuff our microwaves
and make bhelpuris of our golden oldies. Besides, what is so
great about sitting inside a Honda City when the neighbour has a
Mercedes Benz? |
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This longing for the "two in the bush" is not confined to the major issues of life. Take July for instance. Murderous heat... and not a cloud for miles on the dusty horizon. When the first few droplets from the heavens were not forthcoming for an intolerably long spell of time, when May had already signalled the monsoon arrival, I found my fellow Delhiites getting quite restive. I love rain as much, if not more, than anybody else. Therefore, when a stormy miraculous shower did deign to cascade earthwards, I thought it was the most natural thing in the world to want to go out for a walk to enjoy the splendour of getting drenched after such a lot of praying and waiting. There was the usual state of panic outside. For a different reason, however.. people were running helter-skelter for some sort of a shelter to "save" themselves from the rain! Predictably, it did not rain after that, only dust descended earthwards, and the favourite exchange of "complaints" between everyone concerned was once again the non-appearance of the droplets from heaven. Oh! For that one "wonderful" day when it had poured... I see angry, dusty-grey clouds in the sky outside and plan to get drenched towards late evening if the dust is accompanied by some rain. Whoever heard of rain coming to fit anybody’s plans? So enjoy the rain, whenever little there is of real rain and wherever. Who knows, the future might long for the rainy past, and this new century with its, God forbid, only indelible reality of its only kind of rain, acid rain. In this concrete jungle that invites nothing but complaints and abuses.. certainly not heavy monsoon showers of yore, is it not better to be ready with our paper-boats rather than mosquitomats while there is still some real rain? |
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