Ennui or indifference or just acceptance…

Imagine you are in a car, it’s evening, the sky is red, but a hazy red, partly because of the pollution. The city road, barely two lanes wide, sandy, choked with dust and a phalanx, of vehicles, like an overgrowth of mushrooms. Unhindered. Unabashed. Untenable. Ugly. Bikes crammed against the rickshaws crammed against the cars crammed against the buses. The blaring horns, the cacophonous songs, on the radio.

Snailing vehicles through snaking roads. The ambience, discombobulating.

Nauseating. Vexing. Agitating. Angering.

And your feeling of discomfort and discontentment here is even more profound if you have experienced such routine ordeals rarely, until now.

A couple more such experiences, and your righteous, angered, indignant self is humbled into submission. Rendered helpless before the circumstances, the realities we often avoid facing, compartmentalizing and tucking them away, far away.

The irated hollering demeanour is replaced by that of a calm discontentment, consternation is whittled down to just resignation, and in some cases, the sense of submission is so true that those people start finding fun in the ordeals, and looking at (actually squinting at and groping for) the rare positives.

But for others, it’s just ennui. Enthusiasm is further than the farthest cry. And it’s constant. That feeling of tiredness people often keep complaining about. That feeling of mediocrity. Those sporadic bouts of sadness, those pangs of failed dreams, which can strike anytime, and terrorize you, and then abandon you.
And this… is not just the traffic or the dust or the honking. It’s everything. Everything which relates to adult life.

The systems we created as we accelerated into the future, those constructs, rituals, those practices, attitudes, choke us now.

Kids, they are fresh, they look at things simply, call spade a spade, find happiness in simplest things, have very basic, simple emotions. Until. They start learning the ways of the world.

And boy! Are they good learners.
But in us adults, the emotions, the acquired traits, learnings, attitudes, make our personalities so complicated, facets struggling among themselves for precedence. A constant battle. And so, with time, and circumstances (which we and our predecessors were unable or not brave enough to change), everything changes.
And people learn to live with it, ennui, wade through it, smile through it, somehow. Maybe it’s our innate ability to fool ourselves and put our hands up in the air if things don’t go our way. Maybe it’s our fear to live on our own terms, or to challenge the existing conceptions, constrictions, constructs. Maybe, it’s the realest form of indifference.
We are accepting the modern ways, attitudes, fads, the future, so rapidly. Like an insatiable void. And we are not shunning those obsoletes as rapidly as we should. Just because they are too big. Just because they were actually applicable at a time, but now are just prevalent, and hurtful.

This… this complicates things. This creates a suffocating, marshy present that we live in. And we have more or less surrendered, accepted.

We are too indifferent to oppose, to resist, to rebel, to repel, to renounce, to repeal. Or maybe too submissive now (even if we care).

We look at these words above with such contempt, and fear. For these, to us, denote conflict, and such inconvenience, and pain.

But these are some of the very fundamental ideas and ideals of human existence and sustenance if looked back at from a neutral perspective.

But as we have seen, and been led to believe, resistance, and revolution and rebellion has brought in many sufferings, deaths and pain to this world.

And to avoid that we are ironically resisting our own human nature from blooming.

We are becoming mere slaves of the rusty reeking constructs we foolishly think to be true and absolutely firm.

And thus we smother the radical, the righteous, the rebellious, in a sea of inertia, insecurity, and submission.

Everyday a possible revolution is bedraggled and pummeled to just a feeling of discontentment, and a dream. Everyday.

Thus the ennui, then the indifference, and then acceptance.


Romance, love and our obsession with it.

The depiction, act, feeling of love, divides our opinion.

So many of us get lost in the misty surrealities of it, lingering a tad too much in the dreamy conclusions and possibilities, smudging the boundaries of the story and our own existence, subliminally hoping, and imagining those surreal scenarios, wondering how it would be like. 

Getting amused by the extent of and the beauty in our stupidity. Shaking our heads and laughing, you know that, don’t you. Our hearts soaring, our minds put on hold, and our dreams fluttering like doves in the unlimited sky.

And many of us, choke on what we see as the profuseness of hope and exaggeration of everything, unnecessary exaltation of love, for what is love?

A potion of infatuation, longing, lust, and circumstances…

Or a vortex of unnecessary feelings we fool ourselves to believe are as real as the sun…

Maybe love is a distraction, or just attraction… Moulded accordingly with time and our whims…

And on and on…

Here hearts don’t soar. People wince at how the depiction of love and romance is sugarcoated because what happens is the exact opposite, there’s no happily ever after, there’s no absolute purity in love, the blacks and whites are in fact greys.

Love stories are deemed hagiographies.

Some of us try to keep an open mind as long as we can. And then inadvertently or consciously tilt to whatever seems believable.

Maybe, in our bid to understand the complexity of feelings, we try to quantize them. But feelings overlap, they twist, they tangle, without a pattern, they just happen. And that’s what baffles us, agitates us.

The former ones are maybe not as cynical about those feelings. And don’t bother to mull or analyse them. They just delve. 

The latter ones want to hope, but can’t. Maybe they see the ugly side and agree that it outweighs the beautiful one. Maybe they see the futility in all this. Maybe they see the selfishness more than the selflessness. Maybe they see the sorrow, and see hope as a facade, a red herring.

But what we can be agreed is that, love is one of the fundamentals of our existence, or so we believe.

And deep inside all of us want to feel it and know it to see if its real.

The curiosity remains.

As does this debate.