A Nomadic Generation

Prologue

I had been sitting in dark for over two hours now. It was weird to experience a power cut; Almost like remembering a faint childhood memory. With the rustling of leaves in the background, the only thought racing in my mind was, how did we live without online TV, till only a few years ago!

Suddenly, my room mate rushed in, drenched from head to toe, with his flashlight clinched tightly in his fist.

"Dude, we should evacuate."

"What?"

"Yeah! Haven't you seen outside?"

"It's pitch black outside! I can't see a thing. And I was busy eating my cold, yet delicious, food, in the dark".

"There is an electric pole hanging on our apartment and our neighbor's wall has collapsed ! You really think we should still stay in?" 

Hanging pole. Collapsed wall. Stay in. Echo. 

He stressed on just the right words to wipe the smirk off my face, make me jump out of my bed and take a  peek outside.

The reality only sunk in then.

Hurricane Sandy had hit New Jersey, and this was going to be a long night.

The Aftermath

After a few more nerve wrecking moments of deafening silence, we talked about the emergency evacuation kit, important documents, options where we can go etc. We left soon with just a backpack each to a  friend's house for safety.

As I laid, in someone else's dark and cold living room, I couldn't help but think that how quickly and with so little stuff, could I leave my house. I had my passport, immigration documents, driving license, car keys, credit cards, and "my precious", laptop. I wasn't sad or upset about leaving what was supposed to be my "home", till a few minutes back. I was blank. No attachment, whatsoever! 
And I don't lead a monk's life. I am a self confessed shopaholic who has got a lot of stuff. But nothing seemed worth taking. Nothing gave me a mutual feeling of belonging.

Nothing! 

I left with just a backpack, in my car. All I needed were my identity documents, some money and a mode of transportation. What does that make me? A nomad! Come to think of it, most people of my generation are leading similar lives. We change cities, countries and friends at the drop of a hat.

We didn't grow up like this. Most of us spent our entire childhood in just one or two houses. There used to be a rental house, to which our families held on to as long as they could, and then sometime in our early teens, we got our own house. It simply meant 2 things- that from that point on, we would have the same neighbors for life and that city would forever be referred to as our "hometown". Secondly, and more importantly, it taught us the difference between our home and  just a house. 

We all grew up with a generation willing to sacrifice careers and lifestyles for stability, a concept lost on this generation. Living in the moment has become the buzzword, not because its mandatory in today's time, but due to our sheer inability to see beyond a few years in future. We are blindfolded by ambition, money, power and lifestyle.

We still take pride in telling how big and close our families back home are. Yet, the thought of meeting our uncles, aunts and cousins never crosses our minds. And if we absolutely have to meet them, no stone is left unturned to make one point clear- that, because of our extremely busy (read: nomadic) lifestyles, we don't know when we would meet again! Farther is the new better! 

We have an illusion of forever being in touch. Facebook, Twitter, emails, Whats-app, what not! However, this is a disconnected and disillusioned generation which doesn't even have the concept of "forever", let alone, of  "forever in touch". One of the major reasons for the success of all the social media in the recent decade is because of this nomadic lifestyle where we are overcompensating at every step of our lives without as much having an inkling of it. We search for acquaintances in strangers, friends in work colleagues, cousins in friends and a mentor in bosses.

The previous generation had clarity and definitions for every relation. Siblings were different from cousins and neighbors  from uncles. Family was family, irrespective of the distances. Not to belittle any relation, but each one had its importance and position. We never saw our fathers turning to their friends in moments of either celebration or grief, before family. Now, we are one better job offer or even one cheaper apartment away from losing everything that, in this moment, we hold dearly. If Facebook didn't have the birthdays and anniversary reminders, we would have lost on the idea of wishing our so called near and dear ones as well.

India is undergoing a transition. From the clutches of socialism it has freed itself to become a free economy and slowly we are transitioning into a capitalistic society. Migration, for a better career or education, has become inevitable. If you are not away, you lag behind.
With the heftier pay checks and longer sedans, has come, a new societal framework. Our society is undergoing a paradigm shift. 

No kid will now have a creche-less childhood, homemaker mother, verandah cricket with father, intimate cousins and a very interesting love-hate relationships with grandparents. 

Sure, this lifestyle has made us more polite and better suited for the world, but it also has made us plastic and lonely. That's a big price to pay.

Epilogue

The hurricane didn't hurt me or damage my house. Trust me, all these thoughts are neither the result of a tree falling on my head, nor are they accentuated by the fact that I don't live in India! I happen to know a lot of people who feel the same way in a Bangalooru or a Pune or a Noida. That small incident made me realize how much my generation is losing in pursuit of our beloved lifestyle.

I still remain a shopaholic, materialistic and ambitious young man who lives on foreign shores for opportunity and dollar conversion rate! I can't give up all this, not at this juncture at least. I am on a journey with no destination in mind. But now, I do have the lingering thought of this life being over in a fleeting moment. However, even if I have realized about my nomadic existence, most of my generation hasn't. They may not savor the little mutual time we have, living in the moment, before we move on.

We are a rootless generation who wants to branch out regardless. One way or the other, we end up losing people on a continuous basis from our lives, racing towards a point of no return.

Wake up!

..............................................................................................................................

My previous posts punctuating related train of thoughts

सपना !
हम में आज भी कहीं एक बच्चा बसता है !



Image Source- http://violatre.blogspot.com/2012/10/where-is-home.html

  

Thanksgiving

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

A night before Thanksgiving, I was sitting in a diner with a friend. We were talking about the American holiday and its history, which to my amusement, has absolutely no relevance to the way it is celebrated. It was a dinner between the Pilgrims and the Indians, which can probably be equated to one family welcoming another family in the neighborhood. But no one celebrates it that way now because talking to neighbors is a thing of distant past, at least in the West. It simply is a day for family re-unions and a wait for Black Friday deals! As they say, only in USA, can you be sitting with family and friends, being thankful on one day, and trampling over others for cheap electronics, the very next day!

I have always struggled with the use of the word "re-union" with respect to families. May be its the growing up with the Kauravas vs Pandavas stories, but in my mind, for a re-union, there has to be a falling apart. However, with the modern lifestyles, just being apart, calls for a re-union. Why not use the term "get together" instead?

There were 5 old men sitting on the next table. All of them were in their mid to late sixties, I guess. They looked really happy and content. Their loud  and careless laughter lit up the otherwise dull place. There were college stories, work gossip and, the obvious, wife bickering! It was anybody's guess that they were having a good time.

Quite  clearly, it was a "boys" night out, away from their families and the routine hustle bustle. A  friends' "get together" on a night before the holiday that they would essentially celebrate with their families. Again, friends before family! 

Old habits do die hard!

Then again I thought, why wouldn't they be happy! At this age also, they have the luxury of being with their friends, reminiscing about the good old days and forgetting the age woes. The occasional fun nights and the sense of togetherness, especially at that age, must be invigorating.

These are the moments, we ought to be thankful for! That is a true celebration.

Misfit!

The compartment was packed.

Full.

Full of suit clad, gadget loving, bespectacled Educated class. These were the men and women of character, or synonymously, the ones with the money. Those who walked the talk, thought out of the box and were always on the same page. These were the people that had kept the dream of a Utopian world alive-the Dream Merchants. Simply put, they were the ones with the greener grass on their side; Always. They were lost in their own world.

Pleasing. Beautiful. Cultured. Powerful. Sharp.

He was a misfit; an Anomaly, if you will. Despite being an octogenarian, he was oblivious to the pace of this world, or at least he was made to believe so. He was everything that could be wrong. He was the tragedy that though never happened, yet was remembered by all. He was the reason for disruption of world peace, recession and most of all, global warming. No one knew exactly why they hated him but he definitely was the biggest nemesis.

Too slow. Too old. Too weak. Disturbing. Unkempt. Smelly.

His very presence in the compartment was enough to invite stares. He was unwanted and uninvited despite being a law abiding ticket holder.

He looked around in anticipation of a vacant seat. There were a few, but they were swiftly taken by the expensive backpacks and coats. The whole compartment worked in perfect harmony to deny him a seat. Once again, humiliated by his own destiny, he looked down, dejected.

“Sir! Come, you can sit here”-someone called in a loud rustic voice

Suddenly his eyes saw someone who looked awfully similar- another Misfit, albeit younger, who somehow had managed to infiltrate the aristocrat class, and was sitting. His neediness found an unexpected reassured look. Although, he got some stern looks, he ignored. He too was lost in his own world.

He gathered his belongings to get up.

It’s only when he pulled out crutches from under his seat that a sizeable number of eyes dropped in shame.

Photo Courtesy- Google Images

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Two Walking Sticks

By: Venkatesh Sathyanarayanan

It was a temple. A very modern one built with marble floor tiles having electrical bells for aarthi, direction boards detailing where the various gods are, running messages about auspicious days and the schedules on LCD displays etc. It was one such auspicious day and one could see the place buzzing with activity, the priest distributing the Kumkum and Tulasi, a group of people mumbling prayers fervently trying to reach out to the almighty, another group trying for the same by circling around the main deity and yet another group chanting the beautiful sounding sama veda.

A bit away from this scene you could spot a queue in front of the cafeteria (madapalli) which was my next destination. One can get the greatest tasting food at the lowest price with the food served in the most innovative bowls, one made out of leaf which is recyclable, cost efficient and user friendly. As I got the food I wanted, I settled down in a quiet place in the verandah. Facing me were the vivid paintings on the wall - detailing the acts of god as told in the scriptures. I was engrossed in those paintings when a young man came that way and sat beside me with prasadam in hand. He must have been in his late twenties neatly dressed in a white shirt and a khaki pant and with the ashes applied across his forehead. He was lost in thoughts with signs of anxiety on his face indicative of some troubled times in life. He seemed to be trying to find answers for his current state or just seeking divine support to cross through the period, and he was completely oblivious of me noticing him.

A good ten minutes later a shabbily clothed, very old gentleman was walking past us literally trying to drag his body along. I started sympathizing with the old man’s plight. When the body loses all its vigor, tired after decades spent on the rhetoric pursuits of life, it needs a support to cling on to, to enable itself to do one of the simplest things in life – i.e to walk. I made it a point that I would get him a walking stick the next time I come to the temple. As I was pondering, I realized that the young guy also needed a walking stick – one for his mind for it not to limp and cross through periods of trouble in life. I sat next to him and started a conversation.