Sympathy is a phenomenon an entire generation has been infected with, and we have no one to blame for it. Actually, the blame game hasn’t taken the past generation anywhere, so let us begin with not indulging in the legendary folklore. Empathy, on the other hand, is a concept we’re beginning to make an acquaintance with.
My generation is from the romantic era, where nature was all that there was to appreciate, abundance of knowledge in a stupid rectangular gadget stings, but not as often as sympathy hits my grandpa.
I’ve had a great formal education, I brag about not going to a college where getting a seat is a rat-race people commit suicide for, every now and then.
I do that because I’m that cool kid juggling a bunch of internships and convincing myself every day that productivity is what I’m leading myself towards. Although that is not something I could regret, it has kept me sane. DU might have helped me meet the right people at the right time, but that’s all that it has done for me.
IIt’snot a very convenient job, wanting to do unconventional things while being coaxed into the conventions of the bandwagon. Half a dozen people in my family are or have been educators, I’ve practically seen the system EVOLVE.
I’m a short-tempered, easily hurt and violently blunt person. But, I’m also self-aware. I can express myself, the right words naturally occur to me.
That is a result of my mother being a victim of the influence of English language on our lives, my grandpa used to teach people English language and fails to understand my poetry.
He brags language, I happened to fall in love with it.
I’m pursuing Literature and from Sophocles to Kalidasa, Tristram Shandy to Plautus and Milton to Tagore, I critically analyze genius- everyday, well…almost.
Digression is not a very famous tool, it is rather infamous in our world. But, being an oddball comes naturally to me.
I’m not trying to make a point, I’m not writing an ‘article’, I’m simply pouring my heart out.
Maybe because, on somedays, I just cannot manage to be embarrased about the clichè train of thought I operate upon.
I’m on my way back home from a housefull screening of ‘Hindi Medium’, and it has left me with a bittersweet feeling.
Bitter because, the ruckus in my mind will fizzle out, probably in a few hours. But, until it is there I’d like to make some use of it.
Sweet, because…
A few months ago, I took what apprently was a workshop that broadened my horizon, magnanimously.
Satyanshu Singh, our mentor, he made me understand that parallel and commercial is not a criterion and that there is nothing like masses and classists when it comes to GOOD cinema.
Hindi Medium might not look like a brilliantly written film to someone who worships Tarantino or a cute little psuedo-intellectual Woody Allen fan; but from my ‘alternate education’ of cinema and screenwriting, it is a film written for the right audience in the best possible cultural tone and aaa-mazing timing.
[Trust me, I know what you consider prodigal. But, I will appreciate Shah Rukh and Tom Hanks in the same space; both, Satyajit Ray and Karan Johar make me weep like a baby.]
I fail at binding my material, always.
But, to conclude with…please, please don’t ask me to chill.
If I’m a feminist who happens to deal with situations calmly and yet you’ve managed to see through the rage amidst my deceiving demeanour, I agreeably welcomed you in. You’re lucky if you’ve seen my angst, because I expect empathy from you.
Judge me all you want, and I’m going to teach you what discerning means.
I’m a great teacher’s daughter, and currently, I’m teaching mom why and how pop-culture has helped us to communicate better.
“Ae tatti tera naam kya hai” is how we greet each other and grab our share of attention, which according to her, remains a patent Leo trait.
I say fuck when I want to say fuck, I call my mother and father weird names because I subconsciously educated them about being okay with the concept of brutally honest conversations, which probably they’d given me textbook knowledge about.
We don’t filter emotions in our madhouse.
Pornography and Malana Cream are dinner table conversations with zero awkwardness but adorable shyness, we embrace.
Education might have played an important role in my life, but that was because my father is not entirely educated and he made for a great alternate-teacher, while my mom injected a high EQ and a lesson on how to live in a world I’d want to run away from, every step of the way.