Dunkirk

The other day, I wrote about guilt-free enjoyment of movies. I would add another movie to that list: Dunkirk. I usually don't enjoy war movies because they glorify war, and are focused on the heroics of a single or a handful of larger-than-life characters, usually great-looking white men. So, Dunkirk, with its nameless, ordinary-looking characters and its harrowing depiction of war was a pleasant surprise. But, those were not the only good things about the film--it was just a bloody well-made movie on  every score which had me in goosebumps through most of it. The arresting cinematography, pacy plot, hyper-realistic sound effects, evocative music score all took my breath away.
Dunkirk was later criticized for ignoring Indian soldiers who were also stranded there and was seen as another example of empire amnesia. A few days ago, I read another piece which said Dunkirk reinforced the sense of British exceptionalism that is said have contributed to the Brexit vote. Both charges might be true, but I still think it is a great movie. I do believe that every movie is political, and that a movie and movie-maker's politics are fair game for scrutiny. But, there is the danger of going overboard. A movie-maker, beyond a point, can't control what her viewer takes away from it. So, a British exceptionalist might well get the message that the British are a divinely blessed people with unnatural levels of fortitude who don't need Europe. A left-leaning person might see Dunkirk as an example of working-class solidarity: regular folk putting their lives at risk to help other regular folk forsaken by their government.
Speaking of working-class solidarity, one movie that didn't leave any scope for guilt was Pride, which is about solidarity between the LGBT movement and striking miners in the 1980s. It is one of the most  uplifting  movies I have ever seen, the rare explicitly political movie that leaves you feeling good and hopeful about the world and humanity.
I meant this post to be about movies that you grow out of, but I will save that for another post.

I's and And's

Since blogging is also surreptitious writing practice, I thought I would write about the challenges I face in my writing. The biggest challenge in writing a blog is coming up with sentences that don't start with 'I'. If I were not paying attention, I would begin every sentence with it, which would be understandable because a blog is, by nature, a personal account. But, it can be terribly tedious to read. As a new (or rather reborn) blogger, I also feel the  need to qualify almost everything thing I say with "I  think" or "I feel". Maybe as I gain confidence, that will reduce.

Another challenge is overuse of 'and'. 'And', of course, helps in lengthening sentences, which is useful because a succession of short sentences feels like the staccato burst of machine-gun fire. Not ideal at all. Of course, neither is having a series of long sentences, which can tire out the reader. The best option is to have long sentences interspersed with pithy short ones for relief. The alternative to using 'and' is using a comma, followed by a verb in present continuous tense. For eg. this from my last post 'Life can be exhausting if you are trying to be perfect all the time, leading you to police your feelings'. I tried to avoid using 'and' here but find the resulting sentence awkward.

I, also, find myself using 'thus' and 'hence' a lot, even in my academic writing. Both words are good to convey effect and emphasis, but I am trying to be more conscious of using them because they have started to sound antiquated to me.

Derry Girls

I have been watching a series called Derry Girls, set in Northern Ireland during the Troubles. It is has three teenage girls as protagonists and is quite funny. The Troubles are barely referenced, they are no more than irksome dark clouds in the distance. A non-political film, I suppose. A few years ago, I would have thought the makers were trying to normalize England's bloody colonial adventure in its own backyard. By showing normal life during the Troubles, the makers were implying that the Troubles were not so bad as believed. For me, any film set in troubled times but without a strong political message was a cop-out.
Of course, I don't think so now. I think Derry Girls shows humans' innate desire to make the best of every situation. To live, love and laugh even when external circumstances are not conducive. Films that show people making the best of a situation are as important as films which show the effect of a bad situation on people or people's reaction  to it. One human story is no less important than the other.
I remember another movie called 'Yanks; which showed young children in London during World War II cheering riotously when the air raid siren went off. For the children, it was an escape from school and the chance to revel in the mayhem around them. World War II also brought ample opportunities of adventure for Richmal Crompton's William and his friends.
I think any movie should be judged based on how it makes you feel while you are watching it, not after the movie, when you have canvassed various people and media before deciding on the most acceptable reaction. Does that cut out opportunity for reflecting on one's own problematic positions and  proclivities? Maybe. But, life can be exhausting if you are trying to be perfect all the time, leading you to police your feelings. Seeing ourselves as a bundle of perpetual problems that have to be constantly worked on is not a very healthy approach to life.

Super-likes

Dating apps such as Tinder and Bumble come with a super-like button which allows users to let one person per day know they are extra-special. If you are ready to pay, you get more super-likes.

I haven't used the super-like option yet. Why? The primary reason is pride and fear of rejection. Showing a random stranger that you are really into them when those feelings might not be reciprocated. Or worse, the opposite person might feel obliged to reciprocate to show her gratitude, thereby setting up a forced exchange which continues for an agonizingly long time before dying.The other (related) reason is pragmatic. Is it really possible to fall in love with a virtual persona? Maybe it is but I would argue that it is setting oneself up for disappointment. And, I would say it is infatuation more than love as all one has to go by are a few pictures and a snappy bio. The pictures might be photo-shopped, the bio may have been lifted from someone else's profile or off the internet. I prefer to reserve the term 'love' for flesh-and-blood human beings that one has actually spoken to. I believe one-sided love exists but not with a virtual persona--someone you have never talked to or seen in person.

I have been dating online long enough to know that they only way to avoid frustration is to hedge you investment i.e. not to take it too seriously. People can be unbelievably fickle in the virtual world as it unsurprisingly easy to ghost someone you've never met. Conversations start enthusiastically but fizzle out without warning, promising matches never message back. In such cases, it is natural to feel disappointed but  important to keep in mind that it is the nature of the mind to build up the image of a new acquaintance in breathtaking detail. The fewer the actual details available about the person, the more scope for our imaginations to go into overdrive. And imaginations of dreamers like us are always skewed towards romance

I don't mind to sound unduly pessimistic. I have met some lovely people online, whom I now count as friends. There have also been romantic prospects that didn't work out because I was going away or the other person was. All I am saying is it is best to treat online dating as a way to meet people and nothing more. What might result spans everything from non-acquaintance to friend to long-term romantic partner. But, it is best not to get carried away. Or, to get carried away, enjoy the flight of fancy but to remember to come back to earth. 

Ideologies as adjectives

During my Master's programme, I would frequently have arguments about politics and economics with a good friend. We were so apart on the political spectrum that, at the time, it seemed like a miracle that we were friends. It doesn't seem like a miracle anymore but more on that latter.
During our arguments, which were often heated, I would label his views and point out what, in my opinion, were ideological inconsistencies in his views. This would frustrate him no end. I would argue that ideological labels allowed one to penetrate to the core of a view or belief and examine it for logical consistency. Ideology, after all, shapes one's view of the world, or so I thought.
Despite my belief in ideology, I would struggle to identify with a single one. I was/am sympathetic towards socialism, but would hesitate to call myself one. Or a feminist, although I believe in equality of the sexes.
The events of the past two years, both in the world and in my personal life, have forced me to reconsider my views on ideology as a guiding principle of my life (it never was, but for a long time I believed it was). The latest incident that comes to mind is the scores of leftist academics and activists who have been exposed as serial sexual harassers in the #MeToo movement. It would be easy to dismiss them  as charlatans or hypocrites. But, is it possible that they were firm believers in their respective ideology while also using their power to sexually exploit women?And, if one were to be judgmental, who is not a hypocrite? Are the well-heeled social activists who call for the overthrow of capitalism while enjoying a lifestyle completely alien to the toiling masses, not hypocrites? I don't think so. Life is unpredictable and difficult and we all find our own ways to cope and find meaning in it. By virtue of being human, we frequently test or cross the boundaries of the beliefs or ideologies we claim to hold.
I  have started to think that it is more useful to think of identities derived from ideology in terms of adjectives rather than nouns. For eg., I would say I try to be feminist in my actions, rather than I am a feminist. Ideological beliefs, thus, become tendencies rather than constricting labels. This way, it becomes easier to come to terms with "ideological inconsistencies". For eg., how my uncle, who considers the U.S. State the biggest terrorist on earth, can simultaneously root for the homegrown fascist. Maybe we are all a bundle of often-conflicting tendencies, some strong, some weak, some useful, some harmful. Tendencies that have been shaped by nature, nurture and life experiences. It is up to us to recognize and nurture the tendencies that we find useful and try to let go of those that don't serve us and those around us.
My relationship with the "good friend" doesn't seem so puzzling any longer. Reducing someone to one aspect of their personality or one particular belief is pointless because one misses out on the  other stuff they have to offer. People are more than their political beliefs. We don't have to be ideological bedfellows to be good friends.

P.S. I hope I don't come  across as a fatalist, or, worse, apologist for the scum of the earth. I firmly believe in social justice and admire people who have dedicated their lives to it. All I am saying is there are many ways of contributing to the world other than activism and it is not for me to judge how someone else chooses to make their life meaningful. Of course, if your attempt to find meaning in your life hurts others, that is a BIG problem.

Amateur poets

The world of poetry, which is quite alien to me, is apparently split down the middle. A few days ago, a poet Rebecca Watts, wrote an article in a poetry journal excoriating young female instagram poets and the attention lavished on them by publishers. The article opened with the combative words 'Why do we not consider poetry an art form?'. It goes on to rue the dumbing down of poetry and the rise of the cult of personality in it--personalities whose sole meritorious quality is their "honesty". But, where is the art in vomiting out your feelings, free of reflection, imagination and nuance expressed in verse that stirs something in the reader? She quotes some lines from the instagram poets she scorches and they are pretty awful. The review is worth reading in full and quotes some lines about how amateur poetry can be therapeutic. I quite agree. I wrote reams and reams of angst-ridden verse as part of my therapy, which I would never dream of showing anyone else. Watts also stresses the need to focus on a poet's output rather than on the poet's personality. I agree with this as well because reading poetry is such a hit-and-miss experience. Some poems blow you away and others by the same author do nothing for you. For a long time, I thought I would never be able to appreciate other people's poetry because it is so personal and nuanced. Too personal and nuanced for another person to comprehend. I don't think so anymore but the point remains that reading poetry is a highly subjective experience. So, is reading prose but the difference is there will always be authors most of whose work one likes. One might have favourite stories or articles but one is unlikely to be indifferent to their other work. The same can't be said for poetry, in my humble and raw opinion.

P.S.: I googled Rebecca Watts to see how good a poet she is and came across this poem,which I found stunning.

Haikus

Some Haikus

When she broke my heart,  I was relieved to know I had a heart,
An almost love is also love.

A clogged gut and a clogged heart go hand in hand.

A bad cold is the distance between 'healthy' and 'not sick'.

Angst is a poet's fuel, boredom is the spark.


And a limerick

If only large people, didn't have to make small talk,
Life would be so easy, I say
I'd just stand there and nod, while you talked your head off
And then we'd both be on our way

And a short poem

When you love someone,
when  you fear someone,
when you miss someone,
you feel it in your stomach.
So,when your tummy trips,
ask not what you ate
but what eats you.

New friends

How long does it take for someone to become a friend? I was at a Meetup event for foreigners in Bristol this evening and was asked by  a newbie whether I ever hung out with someone I had met at a Meetup event. I replied I didn't although that is strictly not true. I met my Italian friend M at my first Meetup event and we hit it off, seeking each other out at the end to exchange numbers. We have met numerous times since. But coming back to the point, I have struck a rapport with a few others at Meetup events but we never made it to the exchanging numbers stage. I don't know why. I wouldn't have minded hanging out with most of them, but making the first move seemed too much of an effort and not worth the risk  of rejection. I suppose making new friends is a less anxiety-causing version of dating. There are people you clearly like and you don't mind making  the first move either because you know they feel the same way or because  they  are worth  the risk. With others, it is a slow-burning fire. You leave it to fate to throw you together again and make you friends if it chooses. You don't take fate in your own hands. And, you hope you will meet someone with whom you don't have to do the dance of decorum to get close. People who kindle a light in you. Such people are few and far between. But they are worth wait.

P.S. The newbie and I got along quite well, but didn't exchange numbers.

Yoga

I took up yoga wholeheartedly about six months back after a few abortive attempts. A friend had recommended a youtube channel, and since I am not a fan of classes, or people in general ,I was up for trying it.  I have been stiff for as long as I can remember, so my main motivation was to become more flexible. Becoming beefy was,  for some reason, of little  interest to me at the time.
I took to yoga like a fish to water. After doing a 30-day series without missing more than a day, I started on another 30-day series. Since then I have been doing various  singles.
Yoga isn't a great bodybuilding workout and as my health has improved, I have started supplementing it with body-weight routines. Yoga is more for my mind than my body. There hasn't been a  single day that I have felt worse after a session than before and yoga has lifted my mood on a number of  occasions. Yoga makes you acutely conscious of your breath and your body, what  yoga instructors  call "coming into your body".  This necessitates suspending judgement of the past and expectations and trepidation about the future. For those 30 minutes in the morning,  I am fully in  the present. Since forcing yourself to relax or be present is next to impossible,  the only way of coming into your body is to surrender yourself to the  practice and your instructor. A number of lines of my instructor, which perhaps would have sounded banal in another context, are seared into my memory and sources of comfort during testing times. Lines such as "Surrender yourself to that which you cannot control", "The mind is strong, but so is the breath," "If  the mind is strong today, you are not alone'. And, just the physical experience of being conscious of all the body parts you never give a second thought is refreshing. 

A blog about blogging

Since I try to cycle back from uni while it is still light and lack a social life, my evenings are free. So, I have decided to use the time to blog. I could continue working on my PhD but have decided, as a rule, to not work from home unless unavoidable. The problem is when I am on a writing project/assignment, I work on it relentlessly so as not to break the flow. As a result, I feel mentally drained and am wracked with boredom for days after I finish. In case you get the impression I am a prolific writer, I should point out that the passionate writing sprees are woefully few and far between. This blog is part of an attempt to cultivate a healthier and less erratic writing habit which includes creative writing.

It is early days but I have a routine which I find quite relaxing. After I get home in the evenings, I make myself a piping hot cup of tea to drive the cold out of my bones. I then put on the radio and sit down to blog. I suppose there are worse ways to spend wintry evenings.

Of course, words don't come easily. Today, for instance, I spent 45 minutes thinking what to blog about. Since, this is a new (or, rather, newly revived)  blog, I could get away with blogging about blogging, but I realize that won't be an option for long. I have a pipeline of blog ideas which  I will work  through over the next few weeks. I have only one thumbrule--I should enjoy writing every post.  If it is boring to write, chances are it will be boring to read. On days when I feel particularly lazy, I will post poems and haikus I have written in the past. 

Second coming

I arrived in England yesterday after a long exhausting journey which included having to repack my overweight carry-on bags twice at the check-in counter and being held up at immigration for my papers to be rechecked. But, in between, I had a seat with almost unlimited leg room and no neighbors by virtue of being wheelchair accessible.
Being back feels woefully familiar. English winters are as dreary as ever and I was welcomed with a storm. Not having a routine to jump back into or many friends make boredom and loneliness a real possibility. Settling-in chores are as tiresome as ever and things not going according to plan a source of unnatural anxiety. All these things had bothered me a good deal when I was last here. To add to that, I have to explain my absence from England and dodge quizzical looks.
But, something feels different too. Interactions, especially with strangers, feel less forced and awkward and I feel less self-conscious. Boredom and loneliness don't feel inevitable, permanent or debilitating. To be sure, there are moments of stress, anxiety, boredom, loneliness, frustration but also moments of happiness, satisfaction, contentment and laughter. And, while having to explain my absence is annoying, I don't feel ashamed.

Resurrection

My last blog post was on 22nd July, 2009. I wasn't sure I would be able to revive this blog as I had long forgotten the password but such is the magic of Google that all I did was type blogger.com into the address bar and was brought to this page. The thought that Google knows everything usually scares me, but this time I was pleased.
So, I have decided to resume blogging after a gap of eight-and-a-half-years. I did a lot of writing in the intervening period, first as a journalist and then as a post-graduate student. There was also some diary-writing, but it was very personal stuff so I didn't even think of posting it on this blog. Somewhere along the way, I lost the habit of purposeless writing--writing not aimed at venting or at making sense of a problem. Writing that flows from staring into space, which I do a lot of. I had forgotten how much fun that can be.
The past two years have been tumultous, to put it mildly. I was fortunate enough to find someone who guided my writing towards therapeutic purposes and it worked wonders for me. It taught me a lot about myself but more importantly, it taught me to learn to listen to myself. To try to figure out what I really want, which isn't easy in a world which has pretty firm ideas about what I should want.
But, I am over the therapy phase of my writing and am ready to start a creative phase. So, readers who stumble upon this blog need not fear an ambush of angst. My life is certainly not angst-free but at least it is not angst-dominated at the  moment (knock on wood). I feel like I have become a more open person over the past two years and I am ready to engage more with the world. By blogging, rather than (or in addition to) keeping a personal journal, I am hoping to cultivate this newfound openness.
I am writing this post a few hours before I leave for England to resume my post-graduate studies. It is an exciting time for me and I hope that excites shines through my writing. Last year, for the first time in my life, I wrote poetry. Clunky, angst-ridden poetry, but poetry nevertheless. I also tried my hand at limericks and haikus and was surprised by how much better I was than I had anticipated.
So, this blog will have a mix of prose and poetry and will hopefully be less "intellectual" and judgmental than it was nine years ago. More on that later but, for now, I will end with a quote that resonates with me deeply.

There can be no knowledge without emotion. We may be aware of a truth, yet until we have felt its force it is not ours. To the cognition of the brain must be added the experience of the soul - Arnold Bennett.