Tuesday, December 13, 2011
interpreting a random occurrence 2: unafraid of meaning
last night my daughter put her arms around me and said: i am the luckiest girl in the world to have the two of you as my parents. i looked into her innocent eyes, felt the touch of her arms, and a feeling i can never quite describe filled me. before i said what i said the words wrote themselves out inside me: we are the luckiest parents on earth to have you as our kid; whatever life has taken away from me, by giving you to me it has given all of that back and more.
my previous post might make you think i'm mad at the world, i'm actually still feeling so good about what the offspring said and our exchange. i feel successful in the sense of the bengali word: sharthak, with meaning. my life is with meaning. there are some things that are real, permanent, immanent, and transcendant all at once. last night i had a glimpse of that. i do wish you get your share of it;
maybe you already have, then i wish you more.
my previous post might make you think i'm mad at the world, i'm actually still feeling so good about what the offspring said and our exchange. i feel successful in the sense of the bengali word: sharthak, with meaning. my life is with meaning. there are some things that are real, permanent, immanent, and transcendant all at once. last night i had a glimpse of that. i do wish you get your share of it;
maybe you already have, then i wish you more.
interpreting a random occurrence 1: who doesn't want to be a millionaire
last night my ten-year old snuggled up against me, put her long arms around my not too small waist, and said: i am the luckiest girl in the world to have the two of you as my parents.
no idea how a millionaire feels, but at that moment i felt wealthy. utterly, obscenely wealthy. i could feel the feeling spread smooth, rich, creamy, just the way partap sharma had promised cadbury's dairy milk chocolate would be all those years ago. it melted right through me and as it reached my toes and a spot behind my eyelids, i heard myself say: we are the luckiest parents on earth to have you as our kid; whatever life has taken away from me, by giving you to me it has given all of that back and more.
gosh, too deep just before sleep.
the boy who won rupees five crore, or us$1,000,000, the highest prize in kaun banega crorepati/who wants to be a millionaire, has not yet received his money but letters for help keep pouring in; some plead and cajole, others demand, still others come banging at the door with little respect for his privacy. the small, dark, never been in a perfectly cut suit, brilliantly sharp boy from bihar is irritated. he wants to write a book on human nature based on all that he has seen ever since winning about a month ago.
i have often thought it would be interesting to find out what impact the prize money has on the lives of the winners of the show, most of whom are ordinary, middle class, or even poor people. does money by itself, its very presence, improve lives?
one keeps hearing, saying, talking, even dreaming the stuff. in the past 25 odd years we've managed to peg everything to money. home, work, country, religion, education, friendship, love.
no one buys a home they really have saved, planned, and yearned for. they invest.
you don't have friends. you invest in relationships.
if your country's gdp is good, you've got to be happy, so what if the cancer and suicide rates are going crazy?
we also often become citizens of a new country not because we connect to it from within but because it's richer, cleaner, more convenient, ("oh this inconvenient indian passport, so many visas... huff puff... let's become citizens of this perfect nation instead, only to talk incessantly about our great indian culture thereafter." "er, but wasn't not evaluating everything in terms of the big M an essential part of that culture? karmanye badhikarasthe, etc., etc.," "c'mon, stop being a bore; forget those things, invest in a new value system,ok?" "ok.")
be honest and push hard for what you believe in? nah, keep the boss happy, you're investing in a career not doing a job you love or even like.
fall madly in love? sheer stupidity.
as we stash up on cash, are we sort of becoming mere shells of once full human beings? remember that old joke about the teacher who said: meet me behind the classroom when you're empty? was he prescient not malaprop, and that is about to come true?
(indi, there you go again, why so cheem leh? money can also can, cannot also can.)
i was born stupid. if i'm still around, still happy, it's because i had the most wonderful parents on earth.
their wedding anniversary today, would have been the 53rd.
thinking of making a serial called: who doesn't want to be a millionaire, or even a billionaire for that matter.
no idea how a millionaire feels, but at that moment i felt wealthy. utterly, obscenely wealthy. i could feel the feeling spread smooth, rich, creamy, just the way partap sharma had promised cadbury's dairy milk chocolate would be all those years ago. it melted right through me and as it reached my toes and a spot behind my eyelids, i heard myself say: we are the luckiest parents on earth to have you as our kid; whatever life has taken away from me, by giving you to me it has given all of that back and more.
gosh, too deep just before sleep.
the boy who won rupees five crore, or us$1,000,000, the highest prize in kaun banega crorepati/who wants to be a millionaire, has not yet received his money but letters for help keep pouring in; some plead and cajole, others demand, still others come banging at the door with little respect for his privacy. the small, dark, never been in a perfectly cut suit, brilliantly sharp boy from bihar is irritated. he wants to write a book on human nature based on all that he has seen ever since winning about a month ago.
i have often thought it would be interesting to find out what impact the prize money has on the lives of the winners of the show, most of whom are ordinary, middle class, or even poor people. does money by itself, its very presence, improve lives?
one keeps hearing, saying, talking, even dreaming the stuff. in the past 25 odd years we've managed to peg everything to money. home, work, country, religion, education, friendship, love.
no one buys a home they really have saved, planned, and yearned for. they invest.
you don't have friends. you invest in relationships.
if your country's gdp is good, you've got to be happy, so what if the cancer and suicide rates are going crazy?
we also often become citizens of a new country not because we connect to it from within but because it's richer, cleaner, more convenient, ("oh this inconvenient indian passport, so many visas... huff puff... let's become citizens of this perfect nation instead, only to talk incessantly about our great indian culture thereafter." "er, but wasn't not evaluating everything in terms of the big M an essential part of that culture? karmanye badhikarasthe, etc., etc.," "c'mon, stop being a bore; forget those things, invest in a new value system,ok?" "ok.")
be honest and push hard for what you believe in? nah, keep the boss happy, you're investing in a career not doing a job you love or even like.
fall madly in love? sheer stupidity.
as we stash up on cash, are we sort of becoming mere shells of once full human beings? remember that old joke about the teacher who said: meet me behind the classroom when you're empty? was he prescient not malaprop, and that is about to come true?
(indi, there you go again, why so cheem leh? money can also can, cannot also can.)
i was born stupid. if i'm still around, still happy, it's because i had the most wonderful parents on earth.
their wedding anniversary today, would have been the 53rd.
thinking of making a serial called: who doesn't want to be a millionaire, or even a billionaire for that matter.
