A Non-Essential List of Essential Joys
"Sometimes reality is so dire that no amount of eloquence can salvage it. So, allow me the indulgence, dear reader, of describing the current moment — the world, truly, sucks right now."
Madhubala in a still from Kalidas's “Police” (1958)
The world, to put it mildly, sucks right now. Sometimes reality is so dire that no amount of eloquence can salvage it. So, allow me the indulgence, dear reader, of describing the current moment in the evocative vocabulary of an angsty teenager from the 2000s — the world, truly, sucks right now.
If I start summarizing the reasons for this declaration of despair, I will have to write a non-fiction book as thick as “Anna Karenina.” (A non-fiction book which will be thoroughly fact-checked unlike a certain pack of lies masquerading as a book, ahem Bloomsbury India.) Chances are, if you’re reading this, you would be well aware of how the world, and closer home, this frustrating country, is testing our tolerance for absurdity every day. If you’re one of those blessed ones who’s never had to explain why it’s wrong to kill people on Twitter, does not know the horrors of being asked “so what’s your brand?” on Instagram and has never felt an existential crisis thanks to a news notification – well done, and how do I get your number.
This is not a rant. No, sir. I am writing this at the tether-end of a week where I have had to dig in, and remind myself of the small moments that make everything, well, not-so-sucky. Usually, I would keep this list to myself – because no one wants to read a person’s gratitude journal online. But because I usually share, with some vehemence, what I truly believe is wrong with the times we live in, I felt that it’s only fair that I share what I think is (still) good about being human.
And so, here in a mixed order of importance, is my List of Essential Joys. I have tried to keep away The Big Five from this list – family, friends, good health, decent wealth, love. This is because in the recipe for a happy life, The Big Five is like salt. Without it, we’d be left with a bland life. But like with any good recipe, you can only prescribe one thing to everyone – swaad anusar. I’m also mostly steering away from hobbies – assuming that most of what we do for leisure like reading, dancing, and watching films brings us joy. (If not, please find a hobby you like, who cares what zamaana says.)
A Non-Essential List of Essential Joys*
(*With The Big Five, swaad anusar.)
1. A stranger’s kindness. When you’re stuck in what seems to be a never-ending crisis, a stranger’s small act of kindness – offering a seat, words of wisdom, directing you when you’re lost – feels like a boon. I will never forget a night canal ride in Amsterdam. I was on a rocky boat, alone, frantically trying to take photos. A silver-haired German lady told me, “You will forget photos, but never what you see.” I kept my phone inside. (And usually do on most trips now.)
2. An afternoon nap. Preferably on a Sunday. After you’ve had a heavy brunch. The drowsy feeling of being peace with the world, not having things to do, the sweet surrender to sleep. I am not Bengali, but when on a trip to Kolkata, someone told me how seriously the city takes its afternoon naps, I nodded along in full agreement.
3. An uncontrollable laugh. You know that moment when you’re laughing over something silly, and you can’t finish a sentence because you’re laughing so hard, and you have tears running down your cheeks, and you’re pretty sure you will never not find that joke funny? Yes, that.
4. A friend saying “Listen, I get it.” This is a very specific friendship moment, which usually occurs after you’ve been friends with someone for a while. It’s not a passive agreement with whatever you’re talking about, but an acknowledgement that you – and your insecurities, joys, frustrations, dreams, desires – are not alone.
5. Walking in a new (and old) city. I know, I know. Walking in an Indian city as a woman is an adventure sport, and I understand if you don’t agree with this. But having mostly lived in big cities my life, I love feeling like a face in the crowd. The anonymity of a big city, for me, offers possibility that I can be anything. I love the way a city opens up to you when you’re walking – and I wish it was easier for women to flaneur, and loiter, in peace.
6. Hearing an old song, and time travelling to the moment in your life when you were that person. You know that song you danced on in 5th class, hoping that it would make you popular? Or the song which you used to sing with your friends, reading its lyrics off that cassette cover? It’s amazing how songs can evoke a time gone by with such freshness, but I guess, that’s what the YouTube comments under all those Kishore Kumar songs have been telling us all along.
7. Mithai, and dessert. I haven’t met a sweet I didn’t like. The sweeter, the better.
That’s my list – it’s not complete, and I am sure, it’s not a permanent list either. But for now, seven things which remind me that not everything sucks is more than what I need for the seven days that await. And in a world where every day brings fresh disasters, what more can one hope for?
Links of the Week:
If you read one thing this week, let it be Prashant Bhushan’s statement in Supreme Court in a contempt case hearing over a … tweet. Because that’s where India’s democracy is what now. This statement though, is sheer courage.
“I did not tweet in a fit of absent-mindedness. It would be insincere and contemptuous on my part to offer an apology for the tweets that expressed what was and continues to be my bonafide belief. Therefore, I can only humbly paraphrase what the father of the nation, Mahatma Gandhi, had said in his trial: I do not ask for mercy. I do not appeal to magnanimity. I am here, therefore, to cheerfully submit to any penalty that can lawfully be inflicted upon me for what the Court has determined to be an offence, and what appears to me to be the highest duty of a citizen.”
I don’t know how I found this piece by Sara Benincasa about road trips, learning to love, growing up and making art — but I am glad I did.
“When a woman makes angry art, it is by its very nature a refusal to make nice or back down. It exists on its own as a beautiful blazing thing, but it can also be seen as a denial of anyone’s attempt to make her a supporting player in some asshole’s tragicomic star vehicle. In its disagreeability, it is revolutionary.
We make art because we can’t not make art. People care, or they don’t, but we keep going. We tell the stories we need to tell. It’s okay if it takes some of us longer than others.”
I don’t get YouTube vlogggers — which is fine, I don’t get a lot of things and people enjoy them, and that’s great. But this piece by Caitlin Moscatello on a YouTube vlogger who gives up an adopted child reminded me why I don’t trust vloggers who display every minute of their lives online and then make money off it.
“Back then, much of their most-viewed content centered on the couple’s quest to get pregnant again. Myka and James, who declined to be interviewed for this story but whose digital footprint spans countless hours of testimonials, showed an early willingness to share deeply personal moments. They were rewarded for it. Clips titled “MY MISCARRIAGE STORY AT 6 WEEKS PREGNANT!!!” and “LIVE PREGNANCY TEST! AM I PREGNANT?!!!” received hundreds of thousands of views, while videos about healthy breakfasts or Myka’s favorite things fell flatter. The couple studied YouTube analytics — Myka has called James “an SEO god” — and leaned further into family vlogging.”
I love everything about this story by Tarana Husain Khan about a book club in Rampur.
“We met in drawing rooms or Raspal’s farm nearly every month over tea. The menu was kept simple even though we were foodies to avoid any distractions. Our husbands – those of us who had them – cast an indulgent eye over our “Ladies Tea Club”, stopping short of the much-detested term “kitty party”. After the initial catching up, we never spoke of husbands, children or MILs (mothers-in-law) – this time was for us, the books we read, and what we thought of the world around us.”
I hate everything about this story by Srishti Jaswal about being hounded off the Internet, and threatened offline, for just being a woman online — with a silly tweet.
“I was not surprised when multiple people from self-proclaimed Hindu nationalist groups were asking for my address. In fact, I was also not shocked when posters of a candle march proposed against me were circulated in Mandi. But my parents were shamefaced. Friends, teachers and classmates wrote on Facebook about how they had “high hopes” from me but what a “disappointment” I turned out to be.”
That’s it from me this week!
If you also have a similar list of Essential Joys, and are willing to share, I’d love to know. One of the things which I didn’t include in the list, but makes me as happy as a plate of sandesh is reading what you write in.
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