The Ostrich Effect

God gifted us a mind of our own.  It is truly marvellous how we can bend reality to our will by a simple thought.  If “understanding” is the most valuable asset we associate with our cognitive abilities, “denial” is by far the strongest.  In Calvin’s fantastic adventures, a magician’s illusions and a schizophrenic’s imagination we find elements of “escapism”, yet none personifies the true essence of absolute ignorance we lead our lives in.  It’ll-probably-disappear-if-I-look-the-other-way underlines our existence, the way of life that has made it easy for us to forego so much.   I won’t preach, for that we have church.  I won’t plead; it’s what Greenpeace and the like do best.  I won’t mock either; your mirror’s doing a pretty good job towards that end.  I will, however, relate to you a string of unrelated events that possibly triggered off this post, or at least had something to do with the motivation to write after such a long time.

A-rupee-a-day-keeps-the-guilty-conscience-at-bay Two trains of thought have prevailed ever since begging for alms became a way of life for the destitute.  While some argue that giving alms to the poor only demeans their existence further and encourages others to follow suit, others pacify their sense of duty to society by dropping in a few coins.  The louder the clang in the rather empty bowl, the more you contribute to your account of “good deeds” with God feeling content of having helped out someone with an amount you might have squandered off on an irrelevant piece of gum.   Applause.  Honestly, I laud anyone who can pacify their conscience thinking they have improved someone’s life by dropping in some change for want of either getting rid of them at the traffic signal or giving in to their million pleas. 

When I pulled out a 10er and handed it over to the boy sweeping the train along with the half finished 5-star in my hand, I invited a lot of stares, judgemental ones.  A middle-aged woman snorted in disapproval clearly showing where her allegiance lay amongst the two schools, while another young professional smirked dismissing the act as a pretence of “Godliness in man”, a school girl stood awestruck at the proposition of someone just casually handing over a piece of chocolate to a stranger.  Amongst them stood a stooping old man, clinging on to the side rail tightly to keep from falling over, wrinkled and beaten down by the April heat.  He simply nodded and smiled, raising his imaginary hat in appreciation.  I smiled back.  That was the best after-taste of a 5-star I ever had.

Does-he-qualify-to-take-this-seat I might be tooting an old horn here, but spare me for being repetitive.   First class, local train to Borivali, fairly empty, a middle-aged man fights his way through the seamless crowd on the platform to crawl in.  He takes a shoddy piece of cloth that was surely intended to be a kerchief, gives it swish with the left, and dabs his face, trying to wipe the sweat off.  Damp already, the rag is hardly of any use except for transferring the beads of sweat into a thin film.  The droopy eyes examine the entire coach, squinting, blinking in quiet desperation.  Clutching on to a dark blue pouch with papers sticking out he holds fast to the side rail trying hard not to tip over as the fast local whistles past Santa Cruz station on towards Andheri.  He is not frail, just tired: beaten.  All four corners of the seats, from round the corners of their eyes look up, trying to judge in their own way if the stranger is “old enough to qualify” as someone you ought to get up and give your seat to.  Here’s what probably goes on inside in their heads:

1. Colour of hair – black with streaks of grey – CHECK
2. Type of clothes – plain shirt with tailored trousers – CHECK
3. Shoes – Unpolished wicker shoes cracking at more than 2 places – CHECK
4. Ability to hold on without falling – managing, but doubtful - CHECK
5. Amount of luggage – just a small pouch – REJECTED

The moment one of the criteria qualifies for a “rejected” it becomes reason enough for them to simply sigh, give a little shake of the head, and continue picking their noses leaving the stranger standing there, waiting to get off at Malad.

A-straight-face-is-best-served-with-a-blank-stare-into-nothingness Most people I come across, unfortunately, are masters of pulling off a straight face in wake of an awkward moment where they are most likely to come out with two donkey ears.  Consider an auto-rickshaw driver who knowingly took the longer route to reach some place and I caught him in the act and pointed it out to him, all he’d do is stoop a little, look into the rear view mirror, measure up the level of annoyance I have with him, realise it ain’t much and there’s nothing much I can do about it and simply look away after staring at me for 10 seconds.  As if that is going to pacify me! 

I order a dish with chicken that is supposed to come out sliced and marinated in a sumptuous sauce garnished with herbs.  What arrives is a concoction of diced prawn floating in an oily gravy and a side helping of bread.  It took me 10 seconds to simply get beyond the initial lack of comprehension of how that could be even remotely close to what I wanted.  When my eyes meet the waiter’s, and he realises the goof-up, the smile goes, the sparkle turns into a stare as he looks deeper into my eyes with that trademark straight face.  What is he expecting –play dumb and hope that I’d start feeling uneasy and stick with the dish and not create a ruckus at the restaurant or to magically make me FORGET what I ordered?   The audacity!

In every walk of life, it has struck me, something catches your attention which tweaks an aspect of the way you live life.  I know not if these events did the trick for me, but for all I care, they were enough for me to get back to writing.  Disconnected though it may seem, it is what I intended it to be.  We love sticking our heads into the sand and hope or rather imagine that what we do is never really observed, that if we ignore strongly and long enough it just won’t matter anymore and magically disappear.  We just might have taken “aal izz well” a little too seriously! ;-)