Category: Thoughts uncut

I’m No Goldfish

Yesterday, I read an article about goldfish. The author claimed that the human attention span has equalled a goldfish’s.

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So now my attention span is just about 9 seconds. That’s one piece of trivia I can relate to. I forget to finish a lot of my tasks, and I don’t read past the headlines in most of the pieces I see online. And thanks to Buzzfeed’s listicle culture, most articles nowadays follow the same format. So I don’t need to read past the heading of each paragraph. As someone who writes for a living, I can sympathize with the writer’s hard work, but I still I don’t read that huge chunk of content myself.

It’s obvious. People take articles for granted now. No one expects a random online surfer to read through an entire piece about how the economic bubble is bubbling. And so, most writers, too, focus only on the headlines and a paragraph or two in between. (Just in case.)

And the article I read yesterday also said people don’t read longer posts because they’re mobile most of the time, looking for instant answers. And the author also says we jump from one tab to another.

Sure, I do that. If I can’t find what I’m looking for in a website, I close the tab and move on. Any writer beating about the bush would drive readers away. After all, there are plenty of sites out there littered with information.

Why do we do that, though? I wouldn’t go to another site if I get what I want from the site I’m looking at. That’s more of a case of what’s in the article than a case of my attention span.

So I disagree with the author. Our attention span isn’t that limited. Plenty of people read a thousand-word article and still stay on in the same page. I’ve done it and I can attest that even impatient readers will sit through an article if it’s gripping enough.

Attention span and content are two different things. If I’m boring, I’ve lost my reader. If my title doesn’t resonate with the reader, they won’t read more. If my writing is too convoluted, I’ve lost my reader. If I make the reader refer a dictionary for every second word, I should know they’re not coming back.

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It’s got nothing to do with the goldfish and its attention span. I don’t often credit people enough, but humans are cleverer than fish. We have the capacity to assess before we process, and process before we prosecute. Goldfish can’t do that.

The Twentieth Century

Here in India, we love the West. And by West, I mean the Western culture — or what we think we know about it. As technology crossed the seas and landed the television in an otherwise untelevised society, we became adept at making Friends our weeknight companions. We went from staring at stars in the sky to staring at stars on the screen.

While we indulged in “Seinfeld” and “The 70s Show,” and laughed at Homer’s jokes, the British came over telling us to “Mind Your Language.”

And we thought that was funny. Every time a funny episode aired, we’d huddle around and gape at white women sporting little black dresses and short shiny skirts. And as time went by, it didn’t feel awkward anymore. The white men in the sitcoms didn’t think it weird, so perhaps it isn’t.

Our women tried fancy clothes and our men tried perfumed sprays. Oiled hair became gelled hair, and the once turmeric-clad skin now looked “up to ten years younger.”
Thirteen-year-old girls went to school instead of their mother-in-law’s house. They learned to do their homework rather than their home work.

India — or a part — of it, saw a whole new world blooming under the influence of the West. There was a time when we got goosebumps as the hero and heroine made eye contact, but now, not even public display of affection (or PDA!) makes us flinch.

And we have fewer 19-year-old mothers cradling 2-year-old children. The system of the woman in the kitchen and the man on the porch reading a newspaper made less sense to a breed of youngsters born in a new era.

We’re now in a world of promise and freedom of thought. From being a suppressed generation of youth, we’ve embraced the wisdom that came with booze and books. We learned, and we craved for more. We adopted new ways and gave way to newfangled emotions.

We fell in love with the modernity that the West showed us. And we shunned the peculiarity that home instilled in us.

From being a society that had its eyes cast down, we began looking up at others. We started talking to the others, dating, falling in love, and did everything else we hadn’t heard of before. Arranged marriages are no longer the norm. We’ve dabbled in life and experienced things we’ve seen only in sitcoms before, like nuclear families, sex before marriage, pregnancy before you’re ready, miscarriage, abortion, divorce, and — distortion of reality.

We thought we had become forward. We thought we had it all figured out. We thought we’d become trendy folks, that we’re revolutionary, that we’d gained the right to free speech and opinionated blog posts.

We love the West because we think it changed our thinking.

It didn’t. The West changed our thinking about thinking. We think we’re more open-minded and free . We live in fallacy. Because, every day, at least one person undergoes harassment and abuse because of our “modern thinking.”

It’s not the fancy skirt, and it’s not the drinking. It’s the thinking.

We’ve adopted many important practices from the West, but we missed the vital ones. Sex is fine but talking about it isn’t. We don’t have sex education in school but encourage aborting unwanted pregnancies. We say love is universal but *gulp* men holding hands? We talk about the wage gap in careers and ignore the chore gap at home. We think like the West, and we stop at thinking. Thinking is no good unless we do something.

It’s the twenty-first century. But for most of India, it’s still the twentieth. We’ve moved on from vintage to montage, but most people live under taboos and traditions. We’re nowhere close to the West of twenty years ago. We are not modern. We just live in a fake version of reality that we created to feel good about ourselves.

Even though we haven’t moved on since Friends, the world has. Sure, technology will bring us closer to the West, but we need more than ideal ideas and tall talks.

Otherwise, we’re just a powerful society clueless about the power they hold.

Why You Shouldn’t Study Shakespeare

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Some of us, more than others, have taken those Shakespeare lessons in school a little too close to heart. So much so that we decided to delve deeper into the man’s mastery with words, words, and more words.

Shakespeare was the father — or one of the fathers (with the utmost respect to Homer and Johnson and Marlowe) — of English literature. And that’s one of the reasons people study Shakespeare; he’s done most of the heavy lifting already. When you study Shakespeare as a subject, you don’t have to create anything from scratch. There are no eureka moments. (As the ignorant people would say, but that’s for another time.)

As a student, you’d have to memorise the structure, the poetry and find the prose that’s hidden within. It’s not medical science, it’s not astronomy, and it sure as hell ain’t math.

At least in India, studying Shakespeare is transferring the textbook onto your answer sheet. Once you’re done, you’re ready to graduate with a degree in Shakespeare. That’s our education system — it’s all text and nothing more.

That’s why it’s so sexy — because it’s easy. Literature students thrive in repetition, and the concept of repeating book words appeals to housewives who’re busy with kids running around the house. It appeals to their husbands who advocate women education and empowerment. It appeals to the losers who can’t do math and science at school. Because, well, let’s face it, people think it’s easier to count metre and Iambs than it is to count metre per second. And who’d want to fumble with computer programmes when they could just scribble lines of rhyme “as defined in the textbook?”

Plus, in Shakespeare, you’re studying plays with words and words with plays; tone and tenor, method and manner. All that sounds far easier than calculus.

Here’s another reason people study Shakespeare: It sounds exciting in the preface of the textbook, but when you flip the cover and cradle the pages, you’ll stare at opinions. Not prose, not poetry, just random interpretations of Bard’s rhetoric.

Your question paper wants observations of moderators, not your own. You think you’re studying Shakespeare when, in fact, you’re studying summaries of the original piece that — this is called irony in literature — never made it the text.

That’s what they do to you when you want to study Shakespeare. They make you study the ones who’ve studied Shakespeare, and not Shakespeare himself. They divulge the amateur as the master; a blunder if there ever was one.

Alas, a formal study of Shakespeare includes none of his actual works and all of misleading citations and cheap caricatures. And to continue studying Shakespeare would endanger our minds, and force us into thinking like the wannabes desperate for a sliver of Shakespearean glory. We’d limit our thoughts and diminish our ability to differentiate witty wit from winding word choice.

And that’s why you should never study Shakespeare. He wasn’t meant to be studied. He was meant to be experienced.

His works are to laugh at, to cry over, and to pine about with bottles of wine. Shakespeare, the man, stomped on rules. He cut licences from rule books. He had a way of doing things, of seeing things. And you won’t get that by reading what others say he says.

You won’t see it when others tell you. You will see it when you see it for yourself. Shakespeare speaks to the reader, textbooks speak at the reader.

You’d study for the marks, but you experience for the thrill it gives you. Shakespeare visualises life and body and love and beauty — he talks human traits. That’s not something to study, that’s the essence of life you inhale, that’s what pierces you, transcending emotions that translate into words.

Studying Shakespeare sticks words to your head. Experiencing it tugs at your heart.

Converse Impromptu

Hello there! Fancy seeing you at my desk. I thought your workplace was on the other side of the floor?

Oh, you’re chatting with my team, that’s nice. Getting a break from all the sales calls you’re dealing with? Well, you deserve it. After all, how many deals do we have now, five Yes, that’s a big improvement from last year’s four. It’s awesome, and no you’re not wasting our time at all. We’re happy to put our work on hold, this is important stuff, whatever we’re talking about.

Hey, no, that’s ok. Don’t bother getting up from my chair, I’ll just stand around for a while. Besides, I’ve been sitting all day at a horrible meeting. The boss just grabbed my throat about that report we should’ve sent. But that can wait. What were you saying, again? Oh, yes the league.

Huh? Sorry, I’m not bored. I’m just exhausted you see. But don’t let that get in the way of your conversation. It must be important if you must have it at my desk.

Oh, yes, he shouldn’t have shouted at the umpire like that. And I did see how the coach reacted. I would have been offended. But — er — you’re invading my space and I’m not punching you, so what do I know, huh?

That’s great, I mean, it was so cool when he lurched over and caught the ball. I didn’t think he would get it either. No, I didn’t nod off to sleep! I was awake, watching the game. Oh, that final moment, when he kissed the ground? Wow, yes, I agree, pure love for his nation. You’re right, that’s what we need, more sportsmen like him. Such a team player. He’s always focussed on the game, never wavering. You know, I’ve never seen him at after parties or hangouts either. I’ve heard he doesn’t do that stuff. Of course, we work at a tech company, and we’re not the same as him. But I’m saying, what a man!

Sorry, what, a movie tomorrow? But don’t you have a meeting with that foreign client? Oh, you sure someone else can handle it? I thought it was your responsibility. Well, anyway, I wish I could come, but I have plans. Plus, work doesn’t happen on its own, you know. Anything else you want to talk about?

Ah, ha, good places for beer! That’s a never-ending conversation. Except, I have to leave early and you taking over my workplace isn’t that great. But sure, it’s Wednesday. It’s not like it’s the most important day, huh?

You know what? I’m just going to take my laptop to the system admin. It’s been weird all week. I’ll see you around?

Never.

Not Many People Know Their High

In the age of technology, people force themselves to adhere to their 8-hours-a-day routine. Something’s wrong with that setup.

People want to snooze and wish it were a holiday. They long to lounge on the sofa and snack on beer and pizza.

But reality hits hard and so does work pressure. Walking into office has become as taxing as walking for exercise.

The growing pile of papers on their desks makes brains decay. They know their lives are headed nowhere. Something’s missing, they know that, but they know not what.

So they look for happiness anywhere they could find it. They crave elation; a high beyond stacks of tasks. And they find it. Some find it in coke, some meth, or food, whiskey, tobacco, even — they ache for high, and find addiction, instead.

Getting high transcends to losing consciousness. Laughter becomes torturous, and confidence, a long-lost relative. Solitude reeks of isolation and loneliness gnaws at them even in a group.

But as the weekend wanes and Monday appears, the clock ticks again and responsibilities rise. They master the art of being busy, too occupied even to notice the sunset. The kids yell into the phone, and the spouse wonders aloud if they’d have a house of their own. The father pops in to say hi, complains about his own wife and, wants a recliner for Christmas. Then walks away waving in the air.

The week goes by and Wednesday arrives, along with lengthy memos and unfinished tasks. And they go round in circles reaching nowhere. Trying to please the spouse, the father, and the neighbour, they fail through and through. Life goes on, competing with dad next door, or mom across the block, wondering what relatives would say about that new shirt, or how colleagues would react to the tie clip.

They lift weights heavier than themselves. Providing for all others except themselves. Who’d blame them for kicking back with a cold beer? As the weekend begins again, they run up the mountain out of breath. From growing up to growing old, a life so clocked they’ve found nothing to make them high.

A team outing, a friendly dinner party, and a social drink — to avoid judgement. They look up to society, to accept them, to feel inclusive. And if that means they have sacrifice beer for something stronger, so be it. Yearning to belong, they’re looking for recognition even in the canon’s mouth.

Until one day it all stops. One day, when life flashes before their eyes, all they’d see is disappointing years, outlining work schedules and weak-kneed drinking parties. That day, they realise they’ve lived life playing roles. From a schoolboy and a young lover to a soldier, and to a father, they’ve played each of the seven roles but lived through none of those.

They’d realise: They’d spent their time making their teachers, parents, spouse, children, friends, and even their grandchildren happy. And when they see they haven’t seen their highest point of happiness, it’s already too late. We are they.

Unless we stop now.

Unless we shove the elephant in the room, it won’t move away. Unless we reflect now, we’d have nothing to reflect on later. Unless we find our high now, we never will.

Try something new for the first time. Wake up an hour early. Watch the sunrise. Take a walk. Talk to a stranger. Pet a dog, or sit on a bench.

Reflect.

Chase a squirrel to amuse yourself. Read a book to a child. Play the piano. Write a letter to your fist crush. Give it to your spouse instead. Ruffle your kid’s hair, and flash a smile to Maintenance Bob. Hit the gym. Eat some candy, forget the alarm for a day. Skip the tie for work one day, laugh without reason, reason without cause.

Somewhere down the lane, you’d have found something that made you high.

And when you do, hold on. Once you’ve seen the little joys of life, the things that make life worth living, you wouldn’t go back to the dark chasm of self-hatred.

You’d sleep better than you ever did. You’d read and write and laugh and sing like you don’t give a damn. The world may cringe, the world may judge, but you’ll have changed. Because when you’ve found your true high, you’ve found a way to accept yourself.

And as life flashes before your dropping eyes, nothing else would matter.