Sunday, January 7, 2001		Article

MORE and more these days, I find trivia irresistible. And the more worthless the matter, the more I enjoy dwelling on it, wondering about its pros and cons. I wonder, for instance if it’s better to make my bed first thing in the morning, or after breakfast, or — best of all — not make it at all. I think about my sister’s pet hen the one that got rheumatism, and wonder if other hens too sometimes suffer from rheumatism, or if my sister’s hen was the only one. But before I describe my preoccupation with trivia in greater detail, bear with me while I tell the horrid tale of what has led me to dally with the frivolous and the inane.

Storms and tempests of every kind and tidal waves have always come in their expected or unexpected cycles, and have left behind them a trail of misery. Down the centuries there have been other natural calamities, as well as wars, political and criminal violence, rape and kidnappings. But has there ever been a time when there has been something of all this, somewhere in the world, everyday?

Against the background of the information revolution, the frightening possibilities of piracy and other crimes on the internet, all this business of genetic engineering in both plant and animal life and the laying bare of the secrets of the genome — all terrifying advances in knowledge — not a day passes without some kind of accident. Accidents occur in the air, on land, on the sea, in the bowels of the earth and the deeps of the sea: dreadful accidents leaving behind mystery, sorrow and anger.

Do you remember a time even thirty years ago when so many volcanoes erupted seemingly one after another? Or when there were earthquakes nearly every week somewhere in the world? As for acts of terrorism, hostage-taking, bomb blasts, rapes and kidnappings, they’re common enough to pass almost unnoticed, and they take place as far as I can tell in nearly every city, in every country, worldwide, everyday.

Financial and political scandals, hair-raising in their implications, seems tame in the midst of the trouble, sorrow, need and other adversities prevalent here, there and everywhere, from China to Peru. For, except in Australia and New Zealand and perhaps north America, ordinary people are in trouble: in Indonesia, Malaysia, China, Japan, Myanmar, Sri Lanka in our own Indian north-east and Kashmir, in Afghanistan and Tibet, in nearly every country in Africa, in west Asia, Iraq, Iran, in the countries of the former Soviet Union, the countries of the former Yugoslavia, in northern Ireland, in several Latin American countries — and I almost forgot — in Fiji, the Solomon Island and the Philippines. And if they’re not in political or criminal trouble, or victims of exploitation and greed, people are suffering from a surfeit, of affluence and so-called progress in multiple ways which affect their psyche, perspectives and perceptions.

Is it any wonder then that I’m suffering from mental exhaustion; am confounded and confused. A similar mental state was probably responsible for those European theologians in the Middle Ages who argued so earnestly and for centuries on how many angels could dance on the point of a needle! But except for the Black Death and the vagaries of the papacy at that time, I wonder what was happening to cause these learned men to indulge in frivolous problems.

Anyhow, trivia draws me like a magnet. Very reluctant to ponder weighty questions like "Wither the human race is headed" or issues like racism, discrimination in all its forms and child labour, I wonder happily what they do with the ashes in hell. Well I mean if there is a hell and it’s been there forever, and it’s blazing the hell fire, there must be an awful lot of ash around — Where does it go? Or, is hell perchance the place where nuclear power originated: producing fires which leave no residual ash, only hellish problems?

Others discuss matters of life and death, international and national affairs, economic problems, scientific progress, all the ramifications of human relationships and so on. I know all the words. At one time I lapped it all up, enjoyed the argument and the cross talk. Not now. Now my mind veers violently away from all these important topics of conversation; it refuses to come to grips with things that matter.

Veering and twisting sometimes mildly, sometimes madly, my mind strays into questions like, "Gazing all day into a mirror, what did the Lady of Shalot do for food? Did she never have a bath?" I wonder on which finger Alladin wore his magic ring. I think about whether it is better to deal straightforwardly or diplomatically with revolving doors; and why a two-egg omelette looks more substantial than two fried eggs.

Now that we’re talking about eggs, do you think all our clever politicians start the day with a good breakfast? I think not; considering the way in which they go in for calculated rubbish. Due, you think, to dyspepsia? Or could it be sinus trouble? I suffer from stress-spots — quite naturally, don’t you think? — and arthritis, both of which I prefer to enjoy in a large room. In a large room in which there’s space to swing a cat. I have not yet ever wanted to swing a cat, but I might someday, and it will be nice to be able to do so in comfort.

See how readily I veer from trivia to trivia? Part of the lure is in the very words "veer" and "trivia". They are charming words smacking deliciously of mild aberration and cheerful abandon, redolent with irresponsibility. Notice how the straying, wandering, drifting quality of "veer" lets me ramble and sidetrack, deviate, head away and fly off at a tangent, right into the centre of irrelevancy. From there it is a simple hop to inconsequence and frivolity, levity, froth, foam and bubble which are all friends and relations of trivia. Dallying with trivia is a non-productive exercise which imperceptibly but surely has led me to a wacky, whimsical dead — end,which is withal, very pleasant; very agreeable.