Life often is about the dual existence of opposites – of people, of situations and circumstances. As I resolve to pen down the moorings of a disturbed mind at 2.22 am, be warned that this piece will only contrast further the co-existence of those opposites.
I logged onto Facebook around 9 am on April 24, 2012, and was taken aback by a deluge of collective prayers for a certain Little Master. “Happy Birthday” could almost qualify as the second national anthem today, endorsed by everyone in the virtual social space. This virtual space is markedly distinct in terms of age, race, community and, often, nationality.
But, today it seemed bound in oneness by a certain 5 ft 5 inch Mumbaikar, critically acclaimed as the demigod of the modern world. For when he trudges onto the field, Gods of all forms – Ram, Jesus, Prophet, Guru Nanak, et al – are kept busy by prayers coming through from various people divided by caste, community and race.
Strangely, the man in point plays cricket -- a game which is played within the confines of 22 yards and one that is limited by boundaries. Clearly, the mass madness shows that the boundaries are only in the ground, not in the mind. The birthday of Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar alone wouldn’t inspire me to write at this unearthly hour. He has been documented in every which way possible, and my eulogies will hardly contribute to Sachinayana – an epic that is the handiwork of each of the 1.23 billion crazy Sachinomaniacs.
I am more intrigued by the duality of life. So, here is a date -- April 24 – that united the country with the same fervour that a certain August 15 or January 26 does. And it is on this very day that a small section of this united nation saw a contrasting manifestation of divisiveness. By all measures, Shillong is a peaceful town nestled in the abode of clouds called Meghalaya. I have lived a good two decades in the what the British termed as ‘The Scotland of the East’, and can vouch for all my money that its progressive mindset is the envy of several towns, cities, and metros.
Here, the poverty ridden don’t ask for alms, they earn it by playing you a certain musical instrument. You could falter in your diction in a conversation with the Taxi driver who would amaze you with the proficiency of the English language. And you may quote parallels, but only Kolkata comes close to matching Shillong’s plurality of regions, religions and language. Land in the city in October and the Durga Puja celebrations would mislead you to believe that Shillong is part of West Bengal. Fast forward to December and Christmas festivities, the cakes and cookies, would remind you in a subtle way that Shillong is the capital of a Christian state. Three months on, and it’s Holi -- the colours dilute every inconsequential boundary and drape all communities in the same mix of green and blue.
What then happened on April 24? The media will tell you that it was a conflict between two sections of the society, the government would, perhaps, approve of the claims. But, as someone who by all means prefers calling himself a Shillongite, I am sure beyond doubt that the conflict is more individualistic than collectivistic. It is the intolerance and immaturity of a couple on this side and a couple on that side of the community frontier. And if I may hazard a guess, much of what’s happening has the backing of certain ulterior political interests.
By no means is the arson, the bloodshed and hatred representative of a breakdown of collective maturity. This is a city that’s been a melting pot of true diversity and my guess is that the majority sentiment will prevail and peace will be restored sooner than later. In situations like these, Sachin-like demigods will have to emerge from the common ranks, take the lead and restore sanity amid the madness.
To a city that’s made me who I am, I sign off with a wish in my heart and a prayer on my lips. Khublei Shibun!
I logged onto Facebook around 9 am on April 24, 2012, and was taken aback by a deluge of collective prayers for a certain Little Master. “Happy Birthday” could almost qualify as the second national anthem today, endorsed by everyone in the virtual social space. This virtual space is markedly distinct in terms of age, race, community and, often, nationality.
But, today it seemed bound in oneness by a certain 5 ft 5 inch Mumbaikar, critically acclaimed as the demigod of the modern world. For when he trudges onto the field, Gods of all forms – Ram, Jesus, Prophet, Guru Nanak, et al – are kept busy by prayers coming through from various people divided by caste, community and race.
Strangely, the man in point plays cricket -- a game which is played within the confines of 22 yards and one that is limited by boundaries. Clearly, the mass madness shows that the boundaries are only in the ground, not in the mind. The birthday of Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar alone wouldn’t inspire me to write at this unearthly hour. He has been documented in every which way possible, and my eulogies will hardly contribute to Sachinayana – an epic that is the handiwork of each of the 1.23 billion crazy Sachinomaniacs.
I am more intrigued by the duality of life. So, here is a date -- April 24 – that united the country with the same fervour that a certain August 15 or January 26 does. And it is on this very day that a small section of this united nation saw a contrasting manifestation of divisiveness. By all measures, Shillong is a peaceful town nestled in the abode of clouds called Meghalaya. I have lived a good two decades in the what the British termed as ‘The Scotland of the East’, and can vouch for all my money that its progressive mindset is the envy of several towns, cities, and metros.
Here, the poverty ridden don’t ask for alms, they earn it by playing you a certain musical instrument. You could falter in your diction in a conversation with the Taxi driver who would amaze you with the proficiency of the English language. And you may quote parallels, but only Kolkata comes close to matching Shillong’s plurality of regions, religions and language. Land in the city in October and the Durga Puja celebrations would mislead you to believe that Shillong is part of West Bengal. Fast forward to December and Christmas festivities, the cakes and cookies, would remind you in a subtle way that Shillong is the capital of a Christian state. Three months on, and it’s Holi -- the colours dilute every inconsequential boundary and drape all communities in the same mix of green and blue.
What then happened on April 24? The media will tell you that it was a conflict between two sections of the society, the government would, perhaps, approve of the claims. But, as someone who by all means prefers calling himself a Shillongite, I am sure beyond doubt that the conflict is more individualistic than collectivistic. It is the intolerance and immaturity of a couple on this side and a couple on that side of the community frontier. And if I may hazard a guess, much of what’s happening has the backing of certain ulterior political interests.
By no means is the arson, the bloodshed and hatred representative of a breakdown of collective maturity. This is a city that’s been a melting pot of true diversity and my guess is that the majority sentiment will prevail and peace will be restored sooner than later. In situations like these, Sachin-like demigods will have to emerge from the common ranks, take the lead and restore sanity amid the madness.
To a city that’s made me who I am, I sign off with a wish in my heart and a prayer on my lips. Khublei Shibun!
I was really taken aback by this piece of news. I can only pray... "Let the integrity remain and Peace prevail"
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