In their eyes, each day they see a Dark Night Rise

It was one of those afternoons in Mumbai – the rain pelting down the rooftop, the sun mired in a lost tussle with the clouds while the winds wrestled for the right direction. It was a day – bane and sterile – incapable of arousing any single thought, let alone inspiring the idea of an entire blog.

And it is with that unexciting texture on my mind that I entered the multiplex to watch Batman’s escapades to save Gotham. And while the movie promised much, I got value for money even before the movie began.

The unending sequence of ads on the gigantic screen was followed by the 52 seconds that most beautifully captured my imagination. This was the time of the National Anthem, but with a different touch.

Those participating in the rendition were children, the likes of which had never seen the sun rise or heard the birds chirp. They were kids, presumably in their early teens, living a life, parts of which God had discounted at their very birth.

How then did they connect Jana Gana Mana like no one else had ever done? Their hands glided the air as the tune read – Vindhya Himachal Yamuna Ganga, their legs ankled up in lofty fashion to symbolise the gigantic reach of Punjab, Sindh, Gujarat, Maratha; as their eyes glistened with pride at the last salutation – Jaya He Jaya He Jaya He. This was patriotism speaking through silence, this was nationalistic fervour shining through darkness.

At that moment, how many of us gasped a sympathetic sigh for the ‘incompleteness’ of their lives. A strange paradox it is, but my guess is their incomplete lives were far more complete than ours.

From what I saw on the screen, they had made those 52 seconds their own – breathing in feelings and communicating through symbols – far louder and clearer than words could ever achieve. We have been gifted the science to see and hear better than them, but they have learnt the art to feel and live better than us.

When words speak louder than action!

“It’s only words, and words are all I have to take our peace away”

This modified version of Boyzone’s famous number, to me, captures the quintessential cause of most conflict.

Often, it’s words - incisive, brutal and scathing – that germinate hurt, discord and discontent.

It’s only after war has been fought in words that battle lines are drawn on the ground. Aided by context and people, words alone push individuals to the point of no return. Often relationships, laden with years of effort, purpose and meaning, are diluted by a single moment of verbal failure.

Do parties then attempt reconciliation? Yes they do. Karpman’s Persecutor embraces the role of a Victim – apologetic and desperate – to mend the earlier errors. But, the ‘erstwhile Victim’, now the Persecutor, is, perhaps, too hurt to forgive. The Rescuer, meanwhile, is seen as an ally of the Victim and the Persecutor has little choice but to be indifferent to both.

Is indifference then the end of conflict? Or is it the beginning of the end of the relationship? While there isn’t enough theory to substantiate either point of view, I suspect a state of indifference marks a critical threshold – either it gives space for an unprecedented resurgence to the bond or, as several cases would suggest, it marks the first stanza in the dirge that echoes the obituary for the relationship.

And sometimes still, indifference is not a mediating step – rather it is an end in itself. My guess is that conflict gets most excruciating when the state of indifference attains a degree of permanence.

So, the next time you wonder why your best comrades and friends have drifted away from you, revisit the past and look for that 'one word' that made all the difference.