Emptiness and love affairs - the absent trace

 Kaleidoscope with his endless succession of depthless presents embraces an empty signifier the whole wide world likes to call as love. Love, to be loved is often a longing for a home that never exists. Indeed this empty signifier makes love ever more coveted. Kaleidoscope like his fellow countrymen aims at attaching love with person, objects and over and above everything fleeting realities. 

... and then against all the odds, love arrives, in its purest and tender form, like a neverending storm. Is this home? Asks Kaleido? Home? what is a home? does it exist beyond the moment in which Kaleidoscope immerses and finds himself. One kiss, one touch, one moment of holding hands, touching fingers and looking at the person, while everything else melts down. Is this going to last forever? 

What is the forever? Why Kaleidoscope is so enamored with permanency when the entire world is becoming more transient and mirrored? In the heart of the built in city, Kaleidoscope notices the buildings only have the foundations, the rest is glassy. Glassy! yes, non-permanent, transparent and again fleeting. What if the mirror breaks down?

What if the mirror breaks down? Kaleidoscope looks at the ceiling of the his favourite joints, they are all black! Why black? Because no one looks at them? Who says no one? he was looking to find  out post-office red painted water pipes, what if there is a fire? also the AC ducts hanging naked! Werent they supposed to wear a proper false ceiling. 

False ceiling? False and ceiling, where is the true ceiling then? Well its painted black, invisible! 

Kaleidoscope kisses everything that he feels like permanent, loneliness, emptiness, fleeting signifires, black ceilings, even if they are invisible, even if they are leaving an absent trace. 

Kaleoscope decides to seek the fleeting and empty signifiers for the rest of his life, be it dark, be it dampy, be it moist and full of tears, Kaleidscope still believes in love affairs.  

disciplining, anarchy and the broken dreams

Just an weekend approaching when the entire world is trying to make things different. Christmas some call it, some find it in the new year, some find it in their birthdays. Making out extraordinary from people's otherwise regular disciplined lives. Kaliedoscope thought of giving a benefit of doubt about his fellow planetmates, yes they need a reason to celebrate, they need an occassion to to go beyond the disciplinary boundaries. Only once may be, or a few times in a year.

So, the not so classy people have Biswakarma, a bit classy has the Kalipuja, and the superclassy has the Christmas and New year parties. 

So kaleidoscope's beloved government gives a discount in the night curfew, thought Kaliedoscope with his critical self intact. However, in the midnight, it's kaleidoscope opening up himself to the world, embracing all the the disciplinings and the challenges he thought he was making in his everyday life. Therefore kaleidoscope too looks half faced, half dark in his deadly combination of punishing self and the disciplinings. 

In sum CHEERS. 

Unleashing the cruelty beneath the civilised souls: The Case of Lakhimpur Kheri

As we teach political science and anthropology, we often give examples of brutal genocides. One example is that of the fight between Maori and Moriori in November-December 1835 when a ship full of Maori arrived on Chatham Islands, 500 miles east of New Zealand to kill, cook and eat the Moraroi people and enslave those who were alive. This brutality is based on technological difference, as Maori had guns, clubs and axes, while Morari had only rudimentary hunting and gathering technology at their disposals without any experience of warfare was an easy prey. Because of the lack of technology and centralised leadership the Moraroi also didn’t have strong leadership. Similarly, we can also recollect the story of Fayu tribe of New Guinea who because of proper conflict resolution mechanism have ended up killing each other for trivial reasons. At one point of time they had a population of about 2000 but because of killing each other their population dropped significantly. This happened because they lacked political and social mechanisms that we take for granted everyday.

It would be premature to conclude that ‘proper’ political organisation is ‘essential’ for human survival as we have seen other band societies doing well without these organisations, especially in Saharan Africa, but needless to mention that a complex state society needs them to function and grow. We can look at the recent disturbing visuals that surfaced at the Lakhimpur Kheri, where it is seen that a speeding SUV car, allegedly driven/owned/inspired by a Minister of State, Mr. Ajay Mishra Teni’s son have ploughed through the protesting farmers relating anecdotes just given above. What count’s for such a violent act to crush people who at least as the video show showed no provocation?

There is a broad spectrum of this form of violence which is ontologically different from political murder and killings that we have witnessed about a decade ago. We have witnessed oppositions being killed, Maoists targeting ruling regimes at places like West Bengal, but killing protesters in broad day light is a machinery that needs to be explored.

First of all, there has been a long-drawn provocation and construction of us/them boundary. This possibly began with the use of neologism like #Tukde_Tukde_Gang, #Urban_Naxal which targeted the student union leaders. Especially those who desist Hindutva and its monolithic constructions. Killing however, was not uncommon as we have seen in the case of Gauri Lankesh. The provocation continued.  The construction of Us/them dichotomy apart from using the neologisms that we have just mentioned, have regularly worked along the existing identity fault-lines. This spilled over towards the defamation of any dissent by linking them with a) external influence of Pakistan or Khalistani movement, and b) The Hindu-Muslim divide, even in the cloths that people wear. Such strong us-them divide didn’t even spare the covid-19 which got promoted through other sets of neologisms like #Corona_Jihad.

While, the mainstream and yet divisive media has promoted us-them dichotomy, the online platforms have been used by the IT-Cell machinery to make these divisions as part of everyday living. Over a few years, India has been able to produce a public-sphere which is unemployed, aimless and with heart full of hatred against Muslims, Students, Protesting farmers and anyone who makes a noise. Meanwhile, round the year incidents of cattle-linked lynching frequently ‘inspired’ by the inactive or hyperactive police administration have created a sense of recklessness among those who form the majoritarian sentiment of the country. We have witnessed how leaders have inspired riots in front of administration.

India, is now walking along with hundreds of ‘Maori’ people armed with hatred and organised in a variety of names, be it the Gawrakshaks, or the Jamatis. As we have successfully taught people to carefully hate ‘the others’, the us/them division now see each other as less human and therefore expendable. Clearly, a combination of hatred, fearlessness because of possible administrative and political support is deadly, and Indians are a few steps away from becoming the ‘Fayu’ who killed each other because of lack of mechanisms of conflict resolution mechanisms. In our case, our machineries are failing. The post-violence internet ban, arresting of opposition leadership is symptomatic to such a disorder and chaos. 

Pic Credit: BBC

Wetlands memories or a spatiotemporal journey called the life

When kaleidoscope reaches at the fringes of the Rajarhat, New Town, near a place locally known as the Pyancha more - the owl crossing, a sudden smell in the hot and humid air made his travel not only  a spatial one, but also a temporal one. He forgot the origin of that fowl smell but he could vaguely recall similar smell from about two decades back. Kaleidoscope, stopped and parked the car to trace the origin of the smell.  It felt like he was striving for a time and space that doesn't exist. Someone from the hot and humid midday sun appear from the back of the wetland vegetation and took Kaleido's hand. Yes, a travel back to childhood was on the go. Kaleidoscope had to stop somewhere at the liminal margin. The road ended and a muddy way began. The old and 'real' Rajarhat muddy way I thought. 

The smell was very close, and Kaleidoscope could now understand that it was a smell of the leftover. As the fishing was over in the morning, fishermen kept the water 'debris' including the rotten snails and other molluscs along with the underwater mud we call 'paaNk' in Bengali. The fowl smell, which is otherwise unbearable to many was refreshing to Kaleidoscope. He was already mesmerised with the wide open wetland where the city boundary looked tired and helpless. The great wetland, Kaleidoscope thought. 

The source of the smell 

There was no one else but an middle aged gentleman waiting with the fishing rod patiently. The time suddenly looked slow and crippling. We both greeted each other. and he gave me a fantastic bicycle story. 

The bicycle in the front and the storyteller  at the back

He comes from a distant place. His cows know the location. He set them free in the early morning. He comes on his bicycle around 9:00 am. He has to stay here for the entire day. So, all he does is fishing. In the evening he rings his cycle bell and cows gathers for a return journey to home. Its because of his bicycle that he finds it easy to gather and mange cows for a journey of 8 KM.

Kaleidoscope could only hope that the city stops spreading further and the wetlands remain like it always have, for centuries. 

A cracking sound of the bronze winged jacana made Kaleidoscope aware that it was no longer his childhoods and that he now has a fast clock to follow.