Meridian divide
By: Rajbir Deswal
Let me confess at the outset that real happiness lies with people who are willing to share it. The present epsode relates to the year 2002 and was published in The Pioneeer.
India has too many crorepatis these days compared to the past when even a lakhpati was recognised as the son of a “twice-born”. My experience last New Year’s eve compels me to think whether real happiness lives this side or that of the meridian, that answers to the calling of “class” in the capitalist world.
We got passes for the 31st December celebrations at a five-star hotel in the Capital. We were excited to be a part of the much-hyped extravaganza. Our little family made a small group, and made it to the gaiety-gymnasium past 10 pm. The flash-lights beamed in succession from different angles and played their gremlin-game in a multi-coloured range of spectrum, lighting up the revelers’ faces in diverse hues every now and then. The tapping of the dancers’ feet made music with the DJ’s dexterous fingers while near-licentious looks felicitated one another. It was gratification of sorts, with not even a modicum of “concealment”.
The meridian-moment arrived and the entire gathering went into a frenzy, bidding good-bye to the old year that was a new year only 364 days back. Welcome 2003! Happy New Year! Handshakes, bear hugs, embraces, instant and excited calls were being made and received on cellphones. Every thing was there. But I noticed that one-to-one greetings were restricted to members of only the self-same group, big or small. None seemed to be genuinely interested in greeting a reveler who wa a stranger. Persons beyond acquaintance were deliberately chosen, not to be felicitated; or so it appeared to me.
We decided to rush homeward. Stewards, bearers and staff on the way back accosted us. Our small pack was ushered out and the guards, bellboys and the tall, show-cased sentinels, wearing huge turbans, all invoked the lady luck for us in 2003. We started walking towards the parking-lot outside the hotel. The drizzle, which couldn’t dampen the spirit of the merry-makers throughout the day, had stopped. But a chill wind almost pierced through.
Some youngsters, who couldn’t secure an entry apparently for the lack of money, were dancing in rustic exuberance, as if to a average for their hard-luck in the year gone by. They too hailed us. The parking-lot attendant had a muffler round his face and I could see droplets of condensation of the freezing wind, settled on his broomy moustache, when he signalled and helped us pull the car out. He too wished us a happy new year. Reaching home, the domestic help wished each one of us in his Nepali accent: “Naya shaal mubarik hou.”
Till I retired for the day with a wish-list of hopes and dreams, something in my mind was troubling me. Why can’t the rich tide over their islander-mentality and cut across the tiny words of their own creation, of self-proclaimed superiority?” And why are the comparatively poorer people always so willing to please others, with their humane gentleness, character and disposition? Real happiness does not live on this or that side of the meridian; it is all-encomp-passing and all-pervasive.
India has too many crorepatis these days compared to the past when even a lakhpati was recognised as the son of a “twice-born”. My experience last New Year’s eve compels me to think whether real happiness lives this side or that of the meridian, that answers to the calling of “class” in the capitalist world.
We got passes for the 31st December celebrations at a five-star hotel in the Capital. We were excited to be a part of the much-hyped extravaganza. Our little family made a small group, and made it to the gaiety-gymnasium past 10 pm. The flash-lights beamed in succession from different angles and played their gremlin-game in a multi-coloured range of spectrum, lighting up the revelers’ faces in diverse hues every now and then. The tapping of the dancers’ feet made music with the DJ’s dexterous fingers while near-licentious looks felicitated one another. It was gratification of sorts, with not even a modicum of “concealment”.
The meridian-moment arrived and the entire gathering went into a frenzy, bidding good-bye to the old year that was a new year only 364 days back. Welcome 2003! Happy New Year! Handshakes, bear hugs, embraces, instant and excited calls were being made and received on cellphones. Every thing was there. But I noticed that one-to-one greetings were restricted to members of only the self-same group, big or small. None seemed to be genuinely interested in greeting a reveler who wa a stranger. Persons beyond acquaintance were deliberately chosen, not to be felicitated; or so it appeared to me.
We decided to rush homeward. Stewards, bearers and staff on the way back accosted us. Our small pack was ushered out and the guards, bellboys and the tall, show-cased sentinels, wearing huge turbans, all invoked the lady luck for us in 2003. We started walking towards the parking-lot outside the hotel. The drizzle, which couldn’t dampen the spirit of the merry-makers throughout the day, had stopped. But a chill wind almost pierced through.
Some youngsters, who couldn’t secure an entry apparently for the lack of money, were dancing in rustic exuberance, as if to a average for their hard-luck in the year gone by. They too hailed us. The parking-lot attendant had a muffler round his face and I could see droplets of condensation of the freezing wind, settled on his broomy moustache, when he signalled and helped us pull the car out. He too wished us a happy new year. Reaching home, the domestic help wished each one of us in his Nepali accent: “Naya shaal mubarik hou.”
Till I retired for the day with a wish-list of hopes and dreams, something in my mind was troubling me. Why can’t the rich tide over their islander-mentality and cut across the tiny words of their own creation, of self-proclaimed superiority?” And why are the comparatively poorer people always so willing to please others, with their humane gentleness, character and disposition? Real happiness does not live on this or that side of the meridian; it is all-encomp-passing and all-pervasive.
No comments:
Post a Comment