No comments

I don't mean the comments on this blog.

When you ask someone for their opinion, some people like to say "No comments." Some of these some people actually have nothing to say, positive or negative. Some others of them are being kind by not saying anything bad. I think its worse than saying the bad stuff. Don't say anything. Don't say 'No comments' either. Somehow it seems to carry with it an implicit displeasure. Or am I just imagining things. Because when they say so, I assume they're saying it because of factor 2 : not wanting to say anything bad. Naturally then I must assume something is bad. Then I must wonder what exactly is. You could've told me directly for the same results. But then of course, you've safely exitted the scene by the time the realisation occurs to me. :)

But then again, you might have nothing to say, either. Who's to know!

Peeved.

I'm peeved.

- At love songs that claim that 'tere liye jaan de doonga' or 'I would give up my life for you' for the Hindi-impaired. Thoughts like this are what take the (stupid) people in love to another standard of stupidity. Note, only the already stupid ones. And no, its still not okay.

- At fairness creams and ads that claim that:

• You will become (very) fair within X days. That's a good thing..even if it scares the people around you, because some such people who became fair are known to have begun glowing in the dark.
• Once you become fair, you will:
• win dancing competitions
• ..be spotted at the local talent hunt (on account of the new-found fairness: who can miss the face that emits light. In other words, how can you avoid the face that..)
• ..win the leading role in a movie which will doubtless be successful, and then of course with the fame you get, you can go back to your first love - theatre.
• ..or win the love of your life (who will presumably be willing to give up his life for you, now that you are all fair, of course.)

Beauty. Happiness. Peace.

I saw the most beautiful child today. I was driving, and passed by the slum that lies on my regular route. This child was about five years old, traces of mud on her face. Dry, brown locks of hair, fell carelessly over her face. And through the dirt I saw her eyes. Shining. She walked with an air of owning the world, that was only endearing, to say the least. A little child with so much presence. In retrospect, I shouldn't find it so surprising. She was surrounded by people who laughed with her. Who shared the same confidence. The same air of contentment. Or did they? They teased each other and played around. Whenever I pass by them, there's always some gathering that is laughing about something, so preoccupied with each other's lives they are. Not once have I seen just a family by themselves. They're always together. Little ones sitting together, oiling and combing each other's hair. Women carrying buckets across the road that divided their housing. Men. Engaged in conversation. Laughing, chatting. And festivals, they bring on another different level of merrymaking in their lives.

Atleast thats how it seems from where I see them. What thoughts went behind these faces bronzed by the sun, I wonder. Was it the same everywhere? Is it like we see in the movies, where behind closed doors unfold another story of abuse or grief or the unshared burden of responsibility? Lines of worry covered by this bronzed contentment? I hope not. For faces that seem to glow with an inexplicable satisfaction, I sincerely hope not.

What would they answer if I asked them if they were happy?
What would you?