Tuesday, May 18, 2010
a comment
on my friend's blog, indranilahirichowdhury.blogspot.com, i read her most interesting post. tried to comment but her comments thingie would have none of it. so here goes.
the moment we start wondering about the value of this thing called money, we perhaps take the first step back towards intelligence. haha. wanted to comment but can't open your comments thingie.
when i was growing up around the time that mandhata also was, i was told nothing about money. which kind of said to me that it ain't the thing to get all hot and bothered about.
telling the truth was. working hard, ouch, was. being honest was (and precisely why was not too clear, but it was, that's all). listening to elders was, now don't you dare forget how imp that is. studying four hours a day (what what what) was. not asking anyone, incl doting grandma, for anything was. sharing things with your pesky brothers was, you're the eldest after all, tumi na boro.
money?
well, one read of robi thakur's "pujar shaj," possibly at age 8, told you stuff about money and the material vs love, respect, relationship that even singapore and its carat display couldn't make one forget (ok there were rocky moments i admit, but tagore prevailed, whew).
in the time it's taken to reach age fifty, i have realised, in my time and place, i had an extremely privileged upbringing. the best of government and private sector all around; comfortable company township life in almost hurtingly beautiful assam; long, luxurious holidays in delhi; little bouts in calcutta with the father's parents plus the rather extended clans on both sides (and both sides of those both sides); wanting, in a material sense, for practically nothing.
but my real privilege, i am now absolutely sure, went beyond that. it was my people. (yes, "my people," used in the same way as moses in "let my people go.")
the most fabulously generous and loving grandma, my lovely nanimoni. the wise, funny, utterly cool grandfather, my dearest nanabhai who i feel i'm still learning from. an amazingly courageous paternal grandmother: she made the best mishtis and morabba, and though at the age of 12 she'd been married off to a man who neither understood her nor showed her much respect, there she hung on, through the death of a sixteen-year old son, the messing up of a daughter's entire life, the traumatic passing away of my father, and spoke up for what was right at age seventy something. possibly the first time she spoke up in all her life.
i was to have more privilege. my idealistic, tomorrow knowing, brilliant, kind, father. my intelligent, strong, fun, irreverant, laugh in the face of every test of life mother. and my bros. and the man i would fall madly in love with then live with, and my crazy cooky daughter, and you all, my friends.
on 12 april there was a massive withdrawal from my privilege account. my youngest bro, sweet sweet piklu left us. he was born with a troubled vascular system that would leave him wheelchair dependent. he never worked in any real sense of the word, had no money. just the wealth that he was. i am suddenly so much poorer.
nah, money ain't the thing with value, that is something else.
the moment we start wondering about the value of this thing called money, we perhaps take the first step back towards intelligence. haha. wanted to comment but can't open your comments thingie.
when i was growing up around the time that mandhata also was, i was told nothing about money. which kind of said to me that it ain't the thing to get all hot and bothered about.
telling the truth was. working hard, ouch, was. being honest was (and precisely why was not too clear, but it was, that's all). listening to elders was, now don't you dare forget how imp that is. studying four hours a day (what what what) was. not asking anyone, incl doting grandma, for anything was. sharing things with your pesky brothers was, you're the eldest after all, tumi na boro.
money?
well, one read of robi thakur's "pujar shaj," possibly at age 8, told you stuff about money and the material vs love, respect, relationship that even singapore and its carat display couldn't make one forget (ok there were rocky moments i admit, but tagore prevailed, whew).
in the time it's taken to reach age fifty, i have realised, in my time and place, i had an extremely privileged upbringing. the best of government and private sector all around; comfortable company township life in almost hurtingly beautiful assam; long, luxurious holidays in delhi; little bouts in calcutta with the father's parents plus the rather extended clans on both sides (and both sides of those both sides); wanting, in a material sense, for practically nothing.
but my real privilege, i am now absolutely sure, went beyond that. it was my people. (yes, "my people," used in the same way as moses in "let my people go.")
the most fabulously generous and loving grandma, my lovely nanimoni. the wise, funny, utterly cool grandfather, my dearest nanabhai who i feel i'm still learning from. an amazingly courageous paternal grandmother: she made the best mishtis and morabba, and though at the age of 12 she'd been married off to a man who neither understood her nor showed her much respect, there she hung on, through the death of a sixteen-year old son, the messing up of a daughter's entire life, the traumatic passing away of my father, and spoke up for what was right at age seventy something. possibly the first time she spoke up in all her life.
i was to have more privilege. my idealistic, tomorrow knowing, brilliant, kind, father. my intelligent, strong, fun, irreverant, laugh in the face of every test of life mother. and my bros. and the man i would fall madly in love with then live with, and my crazy cooky daughter, and you all, my friends.
on 12 april there was a massive withdrawal from my privilege account. my youngest bro, sweet sweet piklu left us. he was born with a troubled vascular system that would leave him wheelchair dependent. he never worked in any real sense of the word, had no money. just the wealth that he was. i am suddenly so much poorer.
nah, money ain't the thing with value, that is something else.
