4

The Generation Sinusoid

IMG_20160419_200327

This has been long due.
I thought this up while I was in conversation with one of my senior colleagues about three or four months ago; maybe longer. I had gone up to his desk and we were discussing life when this train of thought dawned on me. I like to call this baby ‘The Generation Sinusoid’, and I’ll explain whatever the damn I think it is in the next few paragraphs with the help of points A, B, C, D and E.
Just to quickly run you through what this is about, I’ll just say it is about the sinusoidal nature of humans across generations. The sample set of people I will talk about here are people of my age who are privileged enough to have climbed up Maslow’s pyramid of needs and do have love, esteem and self-actualization as things they can afford to worry about. I have not had the opportunity to spend a lot of time around people who are still struggling with the basic physiological and safety needs, so this observation does not encompass them.
I’ll cut the chase and begin to explain myself. Look at point A. Point A is more or less the time around which our parents were born. Before this, we had the era of independence, which meant a lot of things: unstable employment, poor (compared to what we see now) standards of living and social and communal instability. In the 1960s, things started to seem clearer, people could begin to think of education for their kids, people started having steadier incomes. Money was scarce, but it did begin to flow. Markets began to flourish little by little.
Then came point B. Point B is in the 1980s and is probably the time when our parents were young. They were getting their education or had probably just begun with a job. Globalization began to kick in, in the most rudimentary of forms. The professions that came up were very mainstream. Doctors, engineers, teachers, and well, some more doctors and engineers(?). Pardon me if I am missing out on important facts, but this is how the picture looks to me. So well, by the time our parents got married, let’s say in the 1990s, they had struggled their fair share which had now landed them a job in a government office, or in a school or college, or in banks or they had set up a clinic of theirs. Their marriages were a kind which we, as a generation, won’t be able to experience to the fullest. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad, but well.
Somewhere between point B and C, you were born. Hurrah! New found existence (which shall only fade into oblivion and nothingness, but well, existence nonetheless).By the time point C comes to picture, we’re about 7-10 year old kids, learning to spell the word ‘millennium’ so we could wish each other at school and write ‘Happy New Millennium’ cards to people. We’re still growing up. We still don’t have much of our own opinions about the kind of people we’d like to be. When someone would ask us ‘Beta, what do you want to be when you grow up?’ we’d say pretty confidently ‘Doctor, Engineer, Astronaut, or Singers’. Now point C might not look like a very important point, but it is. It is important because it is a point of inflection that marked a beginning of shifting of ideals and dreams.
Point D is 2020. Standing very close to point D is the current version of you. Look at how much we’ve changed from point C. We are so much more than doctors and engineers alone. We are copywriters, DJs, radio jockeys, IT consultants, writers, musicians, chefs, event managers, social media marketers, bloggers, poets, models, theater artists, not to forget the amazing world of Start-Ups and so much more that I’m going to fail to mention here. Don’t get me wrong here. Not saying that we didn’t have most of these professions back then, but to be fair, between C and D, the Internet happened. Our ideas and dreams began looking to the internet for taking shape. We’re no longer looking for stability like our parents. We claim to have ‘learnt from them’. We are seeing them lead a life, which we might not like. We have understood the sacrifices they’ve made for us, both personal and professional. We have seen them spend their lives stick to safe, stable and risk-free options. We don’t quite really like that. So we strive to be different. We are okay with changing jobs and cities at our own whim. We are coming to terms with casual sex. We are ready to look at open relationships, because sometimes, that is easier and fits like a jigsaw piece in our puzzle that’s life. We are okay with trail and error; failure and success, more than we ever were. We are questioning the institutions that our parents lived by: not all of us want to get married and have kids, not all of us mind travelling across the country on shoestring budgets, not all of us have fucks to spare for things like security and longevity of investments, products and even all kinds of relationships. We are volunteering as fellows not ending up making a lot of money, but doing what we want to anyway, we’re also diluting the social fabric when we decide to burn out the best years of our life on something so that we can make money, so that we can keep making the choices we want to. In this generation, the standard deviation is large. We can’t be characterized as a single point on the plot. Now happens a significant point in your life somewhere around point D: you get married (or you don’t). A couple of years down the road, you have kids (or you don’t).
By the time we reach point E, we are about in our mid 40s. Let’s say you didn’t have kids, you’ll be still probably be working your asses off somewhere, which is I hope something you like doing. If you have kids, then they’ll probably be in their teens. They’ll begin to equip themselves with the art of making choices. Now they are who you were near point D. They will look at us; these burned out, nascent and unstable people. Your kid will begin to see the flaws of the life you lived. Their affinity to things will shift more towards the more holistic kind of living. They’ll not mind settling for less, because they’ll know what pushing that extra mile did to us, in our hearts and souls. They will see us crave a family and companionship in ways we can not fathom right now. They will turn to choices we didn’t want to make in our youth.
Now this is all a hypothesis. This is all a train of thought. But this is what I see when I see generations coming and going from the face of the earth. I do not have empirical data to back me up. It’s all up there in my mind, which shall too, one day perish like all other biodegradable things.
0

Why Can’t You Wake Up

1264px-john_henry_fuseli_-_the_nightmare

It starts at the tips of my toes,

spreads through my calves like a knife

and reaches the very insides of my teeth.

An unknown fear, chilling my spine

like a sudden unwelcome winter.

I whisper to myself,

“It’s just a dream, why can’t you wake up?”.

 

I see intruders. People who do not belong

in the insides of my mind, walking around,

like trespassers, so powerful, so free.

I whisper to myself,

“It’s just a dream, why can’t you wake up?”.

 

I’ve robbed banks. Killed people.

Murdered in cold blood. I’ve died.

I’ve felt my mother dying in a dream, inside a dream.

I whisper to myself,

“It’s just a dream, why can’t you wake up?”.

 

I’ve felt the burden of someone’s hands around my chest.

Blue blood, dripping from my wrists,

stone cold, sweaty palms.

I whisper to myself,

“It’s just a dream, why can’t you wake up?”.

 

It’s a scary when dreams end in ends,

when throats are parched dry in mornings.

It’s a scary disease when you know

It’s a dream and you can’t wake up.

 

Why can’t you wake up?

 

This poem is about sleep paralysis, which is basically being aware inside a dream of the fact that they are dreaming, but can’t wake up because the muscles won’t really respond to any stimuli you send to them. For people who want to know more about it, can read stuff here. For those who have experienced it, I feel you. Good luck with it. 

 

0

‘Always’.

 

1a03cd323bdd0d39af3b813861653d4a

[Image taken from artpicsdesign.blogspot.com]

It’s been a while now. I’ve mourned enough in my own way. I’ve tried to draw little Snape-like figurines in my doodles. I have gone back in time and reminisced how I had diary full of Harry Potter things and how carefully I had written chapters from different PoVs. I have revisited my memory of drawing the Hogwarts seal on a friend’s birthday card. That was how much it means to me. Yesterday, I felt moved. I wanted to hug all the seven books. Yet now, as I look at my news feed overflowing with Snape and Rickman, somehow that makes me wince.

I don’t know where it is rooted, this wince. Maybe it is because I think I am too arrogant to believe that so many other people are feeling the same sense of loss. I have found myself thinking, “Did they even really feel the loss like I did?”. My loss is more infinite than the others’, my arrogance thinks. It is a little ego-crumbling to see so many people post and feel the things I thought only I felt so deeply. Funny thing, arrogance. I feel like they are throwing buckets of water at my colors of loss. My sense of loss feels so diluted. And then rationale knocks at my door.

Knock. Knock.

Rationale asks me what is so wrong with me. It’s a man I didn’t know. It’s a character which isn’t real. Rationale tells me to calm the fuck down. People die. They just do. Rickman did. Lemmy did. So did a lot of other talented and extraordinary and ordinary and forgotten and forsaken people. Rationale asks me to relax.  People die. Rationale barks like a mad dog to my mistaken self, “You think you understand loss?”.

I listen. I don’t agree. But I don’t turn away either. I stay. Rationale is an old friend. Rationale understands when it’s not time to come home. Rationale let’s me curl up in my bed imagining there is a book underneath my pillow.

Rickman, I know there have been more movies to your list of wonder than Harry Potter, but Rickman, I will miss you the most for your gift to my world. The character was undoubtedly wonderful, but you brought him to life. You gave him form. You blended into my imagination like a breeze. You are one of the reasons why I think I understand love a little better. You are one of the reasons why I never grew afraid of loving someone. Whenever I am a lover, I will be a little of you. Sounds like a lot coming from a 22 year old, but hey, look what you’ve done for so many like me!

As I write, I appreciate the fact why people want to mourn you so much. Because I was not alone in this. We’ve lived different hells and heavens, but we’ve all felt overwhelmed by your existence and its absence alike.

If many years have passed and someone asks me if I’m still a Potterhead, I’ll take a huge puff of breath and say like you did, “Always.”

Always.

 

 

 

 

3

Her name

You'll not find her anymore. She's changed her name.

You’ll never find her.

She’s changed her name.

She’s changed like a caterpillar becomes a butterfly, only backwards.

She’s changed her perfume,
praying to God that the smell you think of when you suddenly wake up at 3:30 AM is not hers anymore.

She’s changed her eye color,
so that even if someday you chance to look into them, a different her looks back at you.

She got the piercing off,
so that every time she looks in the mirror, she isn’t reminded of how you did drugs off her belly button.

She’s changed her address,
so that even if you knock, it’s not the right door.

She’s not your graveyard anymore,
where you can go and pretend to die when you feel like shit.

She’s just gone. She’s lost information.

She’s changed her name.
You’ll never find her.

.