I am accused...

At times of loneliness and despair, what better balm than the magic of Faiz?

ہم پر تمہاری چاہ کا الزام ہی تو ہے
دشنام تو نہیں ہے، یہ اکرام ہی تو ہے

کرتے ہیں جس پہ طعن کوئی جرم تو نہیں
شوقِ فضول و الفتِ ناکام ہی تو ہے

دل مدّعی کے حرفِ ملامت سے شاد ہے
اے جانِ جاں یہ حرف ترا نام ہی تو ہے

دل نا امید تو نہیں، ناکام ہی تو ہے
لبمی ہے غم کی شام مگر شام ہی تو ہے

دستِ فلک میں گردشِ تقدیر تو نہیں
دستِ فلک میں گردشِ ایّام ہی تو ہے

آخر تو ایک روز کرے گی نظر وفا
وہ یارِ خوش خصال سرِ بام ہی تو ہے

بھیگی ہے رات فیض غزل ابتدا کرو
وقتِ سرود، درد کا ہنگام ہی تو ہے

हम पर तुम्हारी चाह का इल्ज़ाम ही तो है
दुशनाम तो नहीं है, यह इक्राम ही तो है

करते हैं जिस पे तान कोई जुर्म तो नहीं
शौक़-ए-फ़िज़ूल-ओ-उल्फ़त-ए-नाकाम ही तो है

दिल मुद्दाई के हर्फ़-ए-मलामत से शाद है
ए जान-ए-जां यह हर्फ़ तेरा नाम ही तो है

दिल न-उम्मीद तो नहीं, नाकाम ही तो है
लम्बी है ग़म की शाम मगर शाम ही तो है

दस्त-ए-फ़लक में गर्दिश-ए-तक़दीर तो नहीं
दस्त-ए-फ़लक में गर्दिश-ए-अय्याम ही तो है

आख़िर तो एक रोज़ करेगी नज़र वफ़ा
वो यार-ए-ख़ुशख़साल सर-ए-बाम ही तो है

भीगी है रात फ़ैज़ ग़ज़ल इब्तिदा करो
वक़्त-ए-सरोद, दर्द का हँगाम ही तो है

[I am accused merely of desiring you
Which is no insult, indeed an honour

What they mock me for, 'tis no crime
Merely a useless passion, a failed affection

My heart is elated by their words of blame
O beloved, these words are but your name

The heart does not despair, it merely fails
'Tis a long eve of sorrow; but evenings end

The cycles of fate are not in God's hands
He merely controls life's routine treadmill

Some day, my gaze will finally bear fruit
The virtuous beloved is but on the roof above

The night is deep, Faiz; begin your poetry
The time for song, 'tis indeed the season of pain]

All's unfair in love...

Once in a while, you read something, some short passage from a book or magazine or something, that just makes you sit up and go "Wow! That's just what I've been thinking!". I guess one of the talents of a great writer is to be able to take universal human thoughts and feelings, and express them in clear and compelling words. One such quote, which perhaps struck me more powerfully than any other thus far, comes from The Shadow Lines by Amitav Ghosh:

[T]hat state, love, is so utterly alien to that other idea without which we cannot live as human beings — the idea of justice. It is only because love is so profoundly the enemy of justice that our minds, shrinking in horor from its true nature, try to tame it by uniting it with its opposite [...] in the hope that if we apply all the metaphors of normality, that if we heap them high enough, we shall, in the end, be able to approximate that state metaphorically.

At the time I first read this, I had been thinking quite a lot about the general lack of fairness or justice in human relationships, and in particular the apparent paradox that the closer a relationship between two people is, the less 'fair' it seems to be! The above quote (and its context) seemed to me to capture beautifully the opposition between things like logic, reasoning, calculation, and justice on the one hand; and feelings, emotions, intuition, and love on the other hand — an opposition that perhaps fundamentally defines human nature. Since then, the turbulence of my own relationships has caused me to ponder further on this conflict, and I have been led to the conclusion that therein lies the solution to my paradox: the closer a relationship is, the more heavily tilted it is towards the pole of feelings/emotions/intuition/love, and thus the less space there remains for the other pole of logic/reasoning/calculation/justice!

However, it is not necessary for a truly close relationship to exist in order to observe the effects of this conflict. In fact, it is most dramatically illustrated in settings where the feelings the two people have towards each other are asymmetric, e.g., the classic case of the one-sided lover. This is also the context in The Shadow Lines, where the narrator is deeply infatuated with his cousin, who doesn't really care for him. In fact, romantic infatuation tends to be such an illogical, unfair thing even to begin with. You could fall head over heels in love with someone who hardly knows you; someone who doesn't even care about you, who's done nothing to 'earn' that love. At the same time, you might have feelings of only mild attachment or even indifference towards someone (say, a family member) who truly loves you and has done everything they could for you. So clearly, there is a certain kind of love, the most storied and enigmatic kind, which cannot really be 'earned', which does not follow any kind of logic of justice or reciprocity. And it is this conflict of the overpowering emotion with the logical side of the human mind that has caused so much distress and sorrow to lovers (particularly males, perhaps, but that's another story) down the centuries. For there is perhaps no greater human desire than to be loved as much as you love; no greater pain than the knowledge that your beloved doesn't care for you. Ghalib, as always, expressed it wonderfully:

दिल-ए-नादां तुझे हुआ क्या है
आख़िर इस दर्द की दवा क्या है

हम हैं मुश्ताक़ और वह बेज़ार
या इलाही यह माजरा क्या है

[What afflicts you, o naïve heart
What cure is there for this pain?

I full of yearning, and she fed up
O Lord, what tangle is this?]

Another way of looking at this is to think about a case where two people really do share a close mutual relationship, whether friendship or love. The closer we feel to someone, the less expectation we tend to have that they should reciprocate our favours; in fact we perhaps even cease to regard them as favours. Whereas in a more formal relationship with an acquaintance or colleague, we tend to be much more aware of a feeling of indebtedness towards them when they help us in some way, and we consciously seek to repay such kindness at the first opportunity. In fact, one of the features in the development of a close relationship between two people appears to be a gradual shift in the extent to which they feel the need to be 'fair' to each other. The sense of this is captured in a meme contrasting a 'friend' with a 'best friend': A friend, it says, is one who will share her lunch with you; but a best friend is one who will even snatch away your own lunch. A friend is one who will be careful to return a book you've lent him; a best friend will forget all about it and laugh it off when you remind him... Despite being half in jest, this sort of juxtaposition does in a sense seem to get at something fundamental about the nature of a relationship based on love (taken in a broad sense), as opposed to reciprocity or fairness.

So if it is true that love and justice are at some level essentially opposed, does this mean that in our relationships with people we can only have one or the other? Evidently not; indeed, in practice there is bound to be a mixture of both these facets of our nature, and as just noted, the process of forming a close relationship appears to involve a gradual shift in which one gets prioritised. But perhaps a realisation of this conflict has some implications for the processes that are most likely to lead to the formation of successful relationships. For instance, in India we have a widely prevalent custom of arranged marriage, which undoubtedly does lead to happy outcomes in a large number of instances. Is it, however, the optimal way of finding one's life partner? It would seem self-evident that the most important ingredient in a successful marriage is love, almost by definition. Whereas the process of arranging a marriage represents an attempt to find an appropriate partner based on reasoning and calculation: the personalities should be compatible, there should be common interests, the families should resemble each other in lifestyle and culinary practices, and so on. Can such factors really predict for the blossoming of true love? It would certainly appear not, given the opposition we have just been discussing. Indeed, there are numerous clichés about (romantic) love which seem to reinforce the notion of its irrationality and unpredictability: "opposites attract", "love at first sight", etc.

Does it really make sense, then, to try and 'arrange' love, or is it best to just let it happen naturally? I think, if parents are to be fair to their children, they should take the latter approach. But then, parents also love their children. So, in a way, even the prevalence of arranged marriage serves to demonstrate my point!

We're Humans, not Barbarians

Don't tell me women should dress conservatively, or not go out at night, or not drink, or avoid the company of men ('for their own safety'). As a man, that insults me. It tells me that you regard me as a barbarian; that you think it's my natural tendency to rape a woman at the slightest sense of opportunity. It tells me that you think I'm a wild beast whom women should live in perpetual fear of. So don't give me any of that nonsense. If men misbehave, incriminate them, and incriminate the values and conditioning that society gives them. Don't try to excuse it as natural male behaviour, or to blame women for being too 'outgoing'. That's obviously sexist and demeaning of women; but at the same time, it demeans men too.

A similar argument applies to many other forms of violence that are sought to be explained away as 'natural'. In the aftermath of the horrific 1984 anti-Sikh riots in Delhi, Rajiv Gandhi infamously said, "when a big tree falls the earth will shake". The post-Godhra riots in Gujarat in 2002 have often been described by L. K. Advani and other BJP leaders as the 'natural reaction' of the Hindu community. Do these people not realise how profoundly demeaning their statements are, not just of the minority communities, but more pertinently, of the majority community? As a Hindu, are you telling me that it is my natural tendency to go out and slaughter thousands of innocent Muslims or Sikhs, in revenge for a crime committed by a few terrorists? Is that what Hinduism is? Is that the 'Hindutva' that the BJP would like us to be proud of? Such mindless, barbaric reactions can only be the result of extreme provocation and fear, which our politicians have always specialised in whipping up and exploiting. To describe them as in any way natural is a great affront to the dignity not only of the particular communities concerned, but of humanity itself.

So when men or mobs become dehumanised monsters, don't tell me that's just how we are. Don't tell me the victims are at fault for having provoked us. Don't tell me we're barbarians; because we're humans.

I Won't Let You Go

Whenever I find myself in a new city, there are three things I cannot resist doing:

1. Strolling around the streets randomly and aimlessly.
2. Popping into every bookstore I spot.
3. Acquiring at least one book with a local connection.

Thus, having arrived in Kolkata just this morning on a 20-hour-delayed train (but that's another story), I duly proceeded to complete all three tasks, in sequence, within the space of 12 hours. Having decided to bunk the tutorial I was supposed to be attending, I was walking down the CIT Road, ducking and weaving my way through the heaving masses of evening shoppers and pavement vendors, when what should I spy but a Crossword bookstore? So in I promptly went, and in due course out I came, clutching a collection of Tagore's poems in English translation. And the very first one I tried struck home deeply and movingly. Tagore's use of lush imagery, in the sensuous Bengali style, is legendary, and whilst I can only wish I could read the originals, occasionally a translation too seems to convey a very powerful sense of it. Here's an excerpt:

In what a profound sadness are sky and earth
immersed! The further I go,
the more I hear the same piteous note:
'I won't let you go!' From the earth's edge
to the outermost limits of the blue heavens rings
this perennial cry, without beginning, without end:
'I won't let you go! I won't let you go!' That's what
they all say — 'I won't let you go!' Mother Earth,
holding the littlest grass-stalk to her breast,
says with all her power: 'I won't let you go!'
And in a lamp about to go out, someone seems
to pull the dying flame from darkness' grasp,
saying a hundred times, 'Ah, I won't let you go!'
From heaven to earth in this infinite universe
this is the oldest statement, the deepest cry —
'I won't let you go!' And yet, alas,
we have to let go of everything, and they go.
Thus it has been since time without beginning.
In creation's torrent, carrier of deluging seas,
they all rush past with fierce velocity,
eyes burning, eager arms outstretched,
moaning, calling — 'Won't, won't let you go!' —
filling the shores of the cosmos with their clamour.
'Won't, won't let you go,' declares the rear wave
to the front wave, but none listens
or responds.

— Rabindranath Tagore (translated by Ketaki Kushari Dyson)

No Power on Earth Can Stop an Idea Whose Time Has Come

I do not minimise the difficulties that lie ahead on the long and arduous journey on which we have embarked. But as Victor Hugo once said, "no power on earth can stop an idea whose time has come". I suggest to this august House that the emergence of India as a major economic power in the world happens to be one such idea. Let the whole world hear it loud and clear. India is now wide awake. We shall prevail. We shall overcome.

— Manmohan Singh, Budget Speech 1991

It seems to me that perhaps there is another idea whose time has finally come for our society: genuine respect for the autonomy of women. If only our Prime Minister were still capable of seizing the moment in the fashion he did all those years ago...

The Audacity of Hope

Yesterday India and Pakistan finally signed the much-awaited liberalised visa regime, which could set the stage for people from both sides to be able to meet and visit each other without being made to feel like suspected terrorists. True, the tortuous history of Indo-Pak relations is littered with false starts and shattered dreams; but hope springs eternal in the human breast...

When one experiences a rare moment of hopefulness, or optimism, or joy, one naturally wishes to try and somehow capture that ephemeral feeling, to hold on to it, to pin it down before its inevitable and all-too-swift departure. One wishes for something like Dumbledore's pensieve, to be able to bottle up and preserve forever cherished memories and experiences, to be able to relive them again and again. This world of ours may not have pensieves (yet); but it has its own forms of magic, one of which is poetry. Poetry, too, is a means of attempting to encapsulate for posterity those fleeting thoughts and emotions which make us human. Thus the laboured justification for my desire to recall a little item of Urdu verse I jotted down at the time this visa regime was first proposed. Not that my crude lines can be claimed to possess any magical qualities; but here goes anyway (including Devanagari transliteration and a rough English gloss):

سرحد کے اس پار سے کچھ پکار آئ ہے
لمبی شبِ یاس کے بعد شاید سحر آئ ہے

پنجاب و سندھ و خیبر و گلگت میں آ رہا ہوں
بڑی جستجو کے بعد منزل شاید پاس آئ ہے

सरहद के उस पार से, कुछ पुकार आई है
लम्बी शब-ए-यास के बाद, शायद सहर आई है

पंजाब-ओ-सिंध-ओ-ख़ैबर-ओ-गिलगित, मैं आ रहा हूँ
बड़ी जुस्तजू के बाद, मंज़िल शायद पास आई है

From beyond yonder border, some voice calls out to me;
After the long despairing night, maybe the day has dawned

Punjab and Sindh and Khyber and Gilgit, I'm on my way;
After the long hard quest, maybe the destination approaches

False Hopes

Why did the green bubble flicker, only to go grey again?
One moment you were Available, the next, Offline...
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, wondering what to say;
I never had a chance: have I hands of clay?

Why throw me crumbs of hope, only to blow them away?
'TTYL!', you said last time, and so I've been waiting...
Counting every passing day, updating my running sum;
No one ever told me Later would never come!

Why must you encourage me, only to break my heart?
All those :)s and :Ds and :Ps, I thought you liked me...
But then you left, cut me off, I could barely type Good Night;
Now I just sit and stare, awaiting the next green light.