Opinions matter… Or do they?

We humans are oh so opinionated. Where ever we go, what ever we do, we always seem to have an opinion about everything.

Take me, for instance. I wouldn’t be writing anything here unless I have an opinion about — well, opinions.

Where ever there’s a group, there’s sure to be opinions. Mixed, certain, unsure, for, against — they come in different labels. But the end thing is same — variety.

Not many people have the same opinions. Yes, we agree with others, but we always seem to have something more to add. Something more valuable, we presume.

Businesses, corporates thrive on varying opinions. Everyone sit together and discuss their opinions — they call it brainstorming. This happens for hours, before they all, almost always, agree with what the boss says.

Now, that’s not the matter. That shit happens every where.

What happens when you don’t have an opinion of something?

That’s me. Yes, it is.

I participate in a meeting, but I seldom contribute. People perceive me as shy and backward. But really, I shut up when I don’t have anything to say.

And that’s not wrong, it’s just a choice.

“But no,” they say, “how can you not have an opinion?”

Honestly, what would a common man know of NASA’s latest research methods? How can one blindly agree (or disagree) that NASA’s funding is too much? (I’m saying that only because I recently read Dan Brown’s ‘Deception Point’)

I can’t criticize the way they make rocket ships or sea ships. I simply don’t know.

How can I possibly justify saying for or against something I don’t understand? I can’t. So, I don’t.

But no, people do want opinions. If I don’t have an opinion, then I’m a fool. (Mind you, there are also loads of highly opinionated fools out there.)

But I think accepting my ignorance of a particular concept is also an opinion. My opinion is that I don’t know enough of the matter, or that person, or that incident to discuss further.

There! I said it. It’s ok to not know. It’s ok to not be curious. It’s ok to be unaware. It’s ok to not have an opinion.

Not having an opinion is stating boldly that I don’t know and that I don’t care.

In case you’ve missed my point: we don’t have to be opinionated about every other thing.

It’s all just my opinion anyway, feel free to disagree.

A Journey Within… on the Highway

I think we made a huge mistake going for the movie. It made me ache in places I didn’t know I had. “A journey within” was the caption. I should have expected it.It was a really deep journey. Particularly the last 45 minutes, with a deep message — a social one (obviously!) but told in a subtly pricking way.

The locations were amazing. The music — needless to say, a A.R. Rahman musical. But there was something else — something that made me feel like I’m missing out on something in life. Obvious, you might think. Because it is. I am missing the liveliness of Nature. And watching Alia Bhatt reminded me a bit of a nomad’s life. Perhaps it was the icy mountains that added to the coldness that the movie ended with.

Later, when I was back home trying hard to not visualize the scenes in front of my eyes, something quite unexpected happened. Every programme on tv, and everything I spoke of with my room mates, reminded me of the movie. I simply couldn’t get it out of my mind. Even now, as I’m typing out this piece, first thing in the morning, I am listening to the songs. It seems like I can’t get over it, like trying to give up after multiple attempts at an unrequited love interest.

The greatest thing about the movie was that it was a love story, but not a love story too. It’s not one that we’re used to in Indian cinema. I know we’ve heard that comment too many times to know better than to believe it, but really, for me, this was so different.

Here’s what I found out: everyone who watches that movie can find themselves relating to the characters at least once. And I don’t just mean the girls.

From what I could deduce from my fellow audience in the theatre, almost all of them had that glum feeling of being stuck in reality, and not being able to make that one journey within, the journey that could change our lives.

Even I, who can’t understand a word of Hindi, was moved by the movie. This movie will reach heights. It might not make a blockbuster hit, and make it rain dollars, but it will touch the people. And that’s what makes “Highway” a successful journey.

The dawn of day in the city

Man, the sun’s scorching, and it’s not even summer yet! Really, where is the world going to? In this rate, the world is going to come to an early and ugly end.

Look at the maniacs, driving around recklessly. Don’t they ever care about the environment? It’s so annoying to see these people, talking about global warming, but doing nothing. Irresponsible idiots.

Whoa! Wish I had a bike, so that I don’t need to walk all the way, sweating like a labourer.

Wow! This car is awesome. Such a smooth ride, I really can get used to this.

Heck, who’s that kid? “Hey, watch it! I don’t want your blood splattering all over my new car. Find someplace else to die.”

Idiots! Spoiling my mood, early in the morning. Why can’t these people sit in the safety of the pavement and beg? Why do they have to ruin my day?

This country is never going to change. Wonder what happened to my visa. Gotta call them today.

Oh, my stomach. Please stop growling.

It’ll be so good if I can get some money today. Two days without food, Ma’s become so fragile. I have to get something today.

What an easy life these people have! No worries at all, about anything. Wish I were born rich!

They drive huge, colourful cars, but so carelessly. Who’d watch out for their families if something happened to them?

I would be more careful if was driving that car.

Oh, my throat’s so dry.

There’s a young man in a bike. He might give me something. Must get to him before he leaves.

“Hey, watch it! I don’t want your blood splattering all over my new car. Find someplace else to die.”

“Sorry,” Why aren’t the words coming out?

Where’s that man on the bike? Oh, there he goes, shaking his head, talking to the girl sitting behind him.

Sigh.

Perhaps, I could ask that someone in that tea shop. Hopefully, I’ll get a job. Maybe today, we could eat.

He smiled to himself.

How great it is to be young. How great to be able to walk without the help of a rigid stick.

These young people don’t understand what it is like, to stand here everyday, begging — and how much I hate it — and displaying my helplessness.

Look at that girl, so self possessed. Not caring about anything other than her salary. She’s probably making plans for the weekend. And here I am, not knowing if I’d have another meal today.

What is that perfume? Whoa, makes me dizzy.

Urgh. I’m going to kill her. How dare she test her new perfume on me? And why is that beggar staring at me like that? As if he’s never seen a girl? I just hope I don’t stink.

What’s the date? Ah, salary day. How glad I am to think of it. Got to send some money to Ma and Pa.

I just hope they use it, instead of saving it. The dues on the loans are piling up. Got to speak to Ma and persuade her to talk to Pa about paying off the loans from the savings.

Display ids, display ids, display ids, display ids, display ids.

It’s become like my mantra. Why can’t these people just have their ids on them? I’m tired of reminding them every day.

Who do they think they are, big people? Ok, maybe they earn more than us, but we have families to support too. And here we are standing, looking at thousands of faces every day reminding them to display their ids.

Ah, it’s almost time. Can’t wait for my duty time to end. So excited. My child is going to see daylight today. Will it be a girl or a boy?

Hope she’s fine at the hospital. Hold on dear, I’m coming.

“Display ids”

Why should there be so much traffic in this city? Ya, ya, here’s my id. Stop yelling at me. I can’t even hear you through the glass.

That security looks worried. Bad news on the phone, perhaps. Where is he rushing to, I wonder?

She’s in pain. I have to go. The baby will be here any minute.

Hey watch it. You’re lucky you missed my car, you uneducated fool!

Ah, work awaits. Sigh.

Heck. What’s that sound?

Goodness what happened there? Why’s everyone crowding there? Did someone get hit?

Anyway, I got more important things to do.

I didn’t do that. I didn’t do that. I didn’t do that.

It was an accident. He came right in front of me. I didn’t do it on purpose.

Oh, my God. Poor man. Why was he running?

What do I do now? Am I going to get caught? Will they arrest me? Oh, hope he’s fine. Hope he’ll recover. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.

“The security’s dead, Miss”

What’s the hold up there?

Oh, another accident. Reckless women, holding us up.

My clients would be waiting. Going to be late for the meeting. The Boss is going to be furious.

This post is my response to the Weekly Writing Challenge: Leave your shoes at the door. A brief insight into the thoughts of the various people on the city streets, at the dawn of day.

The Road Not Taken

For a long time, I’ve been wanting to write about this poem. I’ve felt a certain closeness to this particular poem, ever since my teacher introduced me to it. It was love at sight, and though I wasn’t new to the experience, it kept haunting me. It seemed to probe me to do what I felt was right. (but it is tougher than I expected it to be)

What, in the world, is so special about this poem? I can hear you wondering.

Well, it has beautiful words.

No, really. Apart from conveying the greatest piece of advice, the words were beautiful; the wording was artistic and the story it portrayed was an absolute classic.

Go ahead and read it, if you haven’t already.

The Road Not Taken.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost

I told you so!

Passion and reality in conflict

You know that feeling you get when you look at a picture of a beautiful place; that blissful feeling you have when you realize you want to be there? What happens after that?

You come to reality.

You know you can’t be there, it’s way too much for your purse to handle, or it takes too much off your scheduled office time. What crap!

When I got to know about the Green Lake in Austria, I felt a sudden rush of liking to be there and to enjoy it. I don’t want to come back to reality; I’m not going to convince myself that I can’t do something I haven’t even tried. I like it and I want to see it. Nothing wrong with doing what I like, right? It might sound far-fetched, but it is still a nice feeling to know that you are at least trying to do what you love.

OK, let’s just forget about the whole ‘Green Lake’ thing; that’s my problem. What I’m trying to say is that, most of the time, the heart yearns for something blissful but the problem is, our mind tells us that it’s impossible. That’s where the conflict begins. Why does it have to be that it is always the mind and heart that disagree the most? The real challenge is to balance between the two and figure out which is dominant. That’s where we fail most of the time; that’s where I’ve failed.

Why is it so though? The heart always speaks for passion while the brain seeks reality. Why is it so difficult for us to win over the brain? The answer, as far as I know, is because we surround ourselves with people who have succumbed to the brain’s wish and have convinced themselves that their passion was beyond ‘reality’.

Now comes the biggest doubt: what is reality? Reality differs from person to person, right? It depends on our own lives. How then, can anyone say my passion cannot be reality? Of course, it can’t be his reality, but, it just could be mine!

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