Wagle Ki Duniya

 Last month, or maybe the month before that, this detail doesn't matter as much, I stumbled upon a very good collection of videos on YouTube. The playlist is titled 'Wagle Ki Duniya' and is based on the works of the great cartoonist RK Laxman. I don't think RK Laxman is a name that needs any sort of introduction. In fact, any such attempt would never do justice to his breadth of work or how his imagination became a part of the average Indian's life. One could argue that he isn't relevant anymore, and they wouldn't be lying. I doubt most young people would even recall that name or even have the foggiest clue about his body of work, or simply who he was. This is one complaint I have with Gen Z and Gen Alpha.

(One thing that I need to add here is that I believe that the definition(by year) of Gen Z should be shifted to anyone born after 2002 in India. In many ways than one, people born between 1997 and 2002 lived the same life as anyone born in, say, 1993 or 1995. The big cities would be an exception, but as it happens, in most cases, they always are. So when I write Gen Z, it means anyone born after 2002.)

Coming back to my primary grumble. A lot of these people, some I know personally, are living a life significantly detached from their own history, culture and society. Their humour is American. It would have been so much better if it had been British. The wanna-be accent they try to mimic is the one used by African-Americans, and they fail hilariously at that. The way they write English is messed up, and I can't even understand all the abbreviations they used. What sense does one make of a sentence like 'umm lkr sybau fam what even is chhole bhature omg get this matcha fr it slaps lowkey smh'?
Did a drunk cat stumble across your bloody keyboard? Also, none of their references are local. While they are physically in India, their own persona is that of someone living in New York City or Los Angeles.
I'm no Shakespeare or TS Elliot or, Hemingway or Vikram Seth myself. But I try, to my best knowledge, not to butcher a language based on the latest rapper/hip-hop artist enjoying his 15-minutes-of-fame by mumbling and gargling the words in his mouth. This also happens to be the most mollycoddled generation with helicopter parents. My belief is that while parents should strive to provide the best for their children, insulating them from the realities of the world after a certain age only shifts their obnoxiousness on unsuspecting strangers minding their own business. Also, these kids then grow upto be adults who chase idealism and fall prey to all sorts of new-age self-diagnosable maladies when they realise that the real world is a completely different, pragmatic and unforgiving. Some of them became terrible hostel mates, too.

The more I try to become like these guys, the more I come to the conclusion that I will never understand my generation at all. I'm not cutout for the kind of lives they live, the silly little innuendos they consider humour or how comedy means a string of expletives. I am sorry I can't dress like I got my clothes by disrobing a homeless person, and neither can I have a cauliflower as the inspiration for my hairstyle. (To be honest, in a few years, I will have a bald head, so the latter could just have a tinge of jealousy!)
Again, I'm no Greek God myself, nor have I been sculpted by Michelangelo; it's just that I cannot connect with these guys despite my many attempts at that. It feels superficial and fake to me.

That being said, I don't take away their right to dress and speak and laugh in a way that feels right for them. If that's the skin they feel comfortable in, I do not wish to flay them for this. I have just voiced my view of the whole thing. There are things I admire about them, too. That's for another day.

This is the precise reason why I, to seek solace, indulge myself in sitcoms or shows from the last century. That world, a part of which seeped into the early years of the 21st century, seems more relatable and, in some ways, real and uncontrived. Those shows are part of digital media, and digital media is one large prop, but regardless of that, they seem more connected to the world I recognised and cherished. I am no sucker for the past or some hopeless nostalgia junkie. It's just that familiarity is my preference over the unpredictability of the world I see around me. The capricious and mercurial  'present' with its erratic moods, seems overwhelming at times and completely strange on other occasions. That's when these old things come to the rescue.

Wagle Ki Duniya, both literally and metaphorically, is an escape from this age of information onslaught. The characters are similar, and if you look closely, you'll see your family in Mr Wagle's Family. A simple, light-hearted and relatable sitcom. Wagle Ki Duniya feels somewhat less pretentious, and equally conniving(if not less). However, the comfort comes from the familiar. This is about the sitcom and the Wagle's world, both. You'll find the link below. Therefore, Wagle Ki Duniya is about the 'Duniya' we lived, even if for a brief moment, in the past.
My repeated watching of the Feluda telefilms and the old Feluda films also points to this.
I think the rant is enough for today. For the rest of the day, I'll find something else to be mad about ;)


Sitcom: Wagle Ki Duniya
Song: Raag Khamaj by Pt Ravi Shankar
Reading: The Fate of Man by Mikhail Sholokhov

Portrait Of A City

 The angled January sun was warm enough to make me sweat a little in the late morning. The city, however, snuggled under a thick layer of dust and light haze, slowly stretching its arms and legs and torso to come to life. There was honking. A lot of it. And the occasional ambulance was sandwiched between people who were obviously super busy. After all, a family going out to watch their afternoon movie, or ladies on scooters en route to their kitty parties, and the auto rickshaw sans passengers had more right of passage than a poor fellow counting his last minutes surrounded by a worried family. Driving by some roads, you could witness an argument here, a brawl there. Some were fighting-what a manly activity-while others watched, and a handful of them had their phones out. Again, a peak example of positive masculinity. If this is how January feels like, I shudder to think about March, April, May and June. Surely, many more would lose their minds.
Amidst all this activity, the one thing I never fail to notice is people. People. Of all shapes and sizes, colours, religions, rich and poor, good-looking and those who believe that the real beauty is inside, people on bikes, autos, cars, buses, trucks and the few who walk. Those who cannot drive and those who pretend to do so, traffic police officials gossiping among themselves, a poor hawker who's treated badly by everyone and the occasional VIP convoy passing through who thinks little of all the others I've described.

I too was one among the crowd that day. The only pleasant thing about winters is not having to use fans as much, and the cool morning and evening weather in Bhubaneswar. Otherwise, the dry and dusty city gives me a headache each time I step out. Especially in the area around the KIIT Campus. However, this time, that was the last thing I focused on. Having booked a Rapido bike to travel from the Fire Station Square to the KIIT Square, I waited for the Rapido captain to arrive. The middle-aged, soft-spoken man didn't keep me waiting too long and didn't follow the ritual that every other cab driver/bike rider does these days. He didn't haggle on the price and didn't ask for any extra amount. I walked up to him, as the local autos are known to beat up the app-based taxi, auto and bike riders in their 'zones', and made way for the destination. Midway, he stopped all of a sudden and asked politely if I could get out of the seat, as he was having issues with his phone charger. I didn't mind, and he took no time to fix it. Just as soon as he'd done that, he took out a packet of Marie biscuits from his bag and made a dash for the taps installed by the government near the CRPF Square bus stop. He tore up the packet(slightly), filled some water into it, and drained out the rest. Then he looked at me, pointing to the packet in his hand, probably his only meal for the morning or afternoon. His eyes and emotions didn't betray anything. It was part permission, part 'hope you don't mind,' part 'just give me a minute,' and one part 'sorry to keep you waiting.' I just gave him an empathetic assurance by raising my palm, hoping to signal, 'it's okay, I understand.' What more could I do? I knew that the image of that man was now stuck with me for the entire day. He finished soon, just as he'd promised, and we were on the way again. For someone like me who feels deeply about such things, the incident kept playing repeatedly in my mind. With that happening, I reached the KIIT square soon. As dusty, crowded, loud and chaotic as I had seen it last year. I paid him the fare, and before I could pull out some change I could spare to pay the man who definitely deserved a tip, he'd already crossed onto the other side. 
A bit disturbed, I started to walk to my destination when I encountered a 65+ year old guy who was scolding some poor young chap outside the fish shop, probably a daily wager, for not having moved his cycle fast enough and that his cycle tyres had left a wee little mark on his white i10. People are mad at the silliest and most trivial things these days. Anyway, as I moved away from the little crowd that had gathered, I could hear the words 'aukaat', 'paisa', '@#$@'  before they drowned out in the noise of the city. 

The return journey wasn't remarkable. The markets were full of people haggling over Rs 10, someone was painting the road red with his spit, and some people were working to clean the mess left by others on the road. A pretty Sisyphean task, if you ask me. So is our life to some extent. That's for another blog, but forgive me for digressing.

My point with this wasn't to highlight privilege, class divide, social problems, etc at all. It's just anytime a thinking man steps out into any city and tries to observe, it comes naturally to him; he'll find these instances that find their place on both sides of the social scale-balance. Somewhere, he'll observe the gutter mentality of our people, and at other places, he'll see something that'll make him trust in human virtues once more. Although this has become increasingly hard to come by. I don't know whether it's money, or power, or the fact that we are just venal by design, that leads to such bad treatment of others. I had a very interesting conversation regarding this with Suvro Sir on New Year's Eve, and then saw it happen right in front of me a few days later. The call was probably the best discussion I've had with someone in a very long time.

I hope more of us behave better, treat others better and show a little bit of kindness. 
I'll end this post here.

Now, recommendations!

Book: The Abolition of Man by C.S. Lewis
Song: Donna by Ritchie Valens
Movie: Jalsaghar by Satyajit Ray


P.S. Another thing that doesn't cost a lot of money or fortune is commenting on blogs. Hope to see more of my readers share their views openly. You don't have to agree with what I say. In fact, I'd very much like counterarguments and a spirited discussion!

Also, the weather is much clearer in my part of the town now. The fog and haze are gone. The days are clear, and at night too. I can see the shimmering city lights from my balcony much better these days. Living next to a forest has its perks. 

New Year, New Rant.

It's that time of the year when we all struggle a little while writing the date. For those in a hurry, scribbling the 5 to write 6 would be a preferable choice. Those with an artistic inclination summon all their skills in geometry, symmetry and art to try to morph the 5 into a 6. The latter is rather useful for bank or government forms. Anyway, like most things, writing the date becomes a habit. 

It is also that time of the year when people are the most motivated. From my balcony, I saw the largest crowd of morning walk enthusiasts walking briskly through the fog with loud 'Goooood Mornniiing' and 'Haaapy New Yaaaar' greetings to each other. How many of them later went to relish hot kochuris,vada ghughni, aloo chop, is something I do not know. Since we're all slaves to our habits, I reckon the self-proclaimed nutritionist of the walking group would have said something along the lines of, 'One samosa or Aloo Chop doesn't harm the body. After all, enaargy is needed na!', and then they would have descended on the telebhaja cart to help him with his bohni(the day's first sale, similar to handsel).
Despite their archaic mindset, the newly retired generation in India is having the time of their life, having retired in what I call the 'golden moment'.
More on this and their little laughter club will be shared in a later post. 

I have given up on the idea of New Year's Resolutions altogether. My philosophy is simple: Anyone genuinely interested in changing or adopting good habits and wanting to let go of bad ones wouldn't have to wait for a special day. Therefore, if I need to improve myself, I should be able to work on it whenever I want. Regardless, I am interested in learning about the resolutions of my readers. So, don't disappoint me and feel free to comment about the changes you wish to adopt from today.

Finally, coming to the rant. Each year, right after the New Year parties across various cities, some visuals emerge that I find distressing. Young boys and girls are barely able to walk under the influence of alcohol and whatnot. Some pass out on footpaths, on the streets, get into fights, or just engage in rowdyism. Most of them, judging by their looks, seem to be literate and engaged in the formal workforce of the country. While I am in no way against celebration, parties, drinking or other forms of enjoyment, I fail to understand what joy one gets out of completely losing all sense of self under the influence of intoxicants. Personally, I have never been a fan of such things and will continue to hold this view. 

One thing you may expect from all posts starting with this one is a song or a movie recommendation(or both)! I generally prefer (old) country music, some ghazals, instrumentals and some songs by KK.
The songs may or may not have any connection with the posts. Same with the movies.
Also, I'll be spending some considerable time editing my posts too. From the next one, of course! :)

Until the next post, I wish you all well. Live, Laugh and Enjoy!

Song: To Take....To Hold
Movie: Perfect Days(2023). I watched it yesterday. It's like a poem, and the scenes are its rhyming scheme. I liked it.