"Love yourself". No. Never.

"I wish to be a different person.
Grant me that.
And I would wish it again."

We are socially-constructed parasites, barely surviving on the flattery of others and pity for ourselves. Sadly incapable of appreciating the true self, yet, busy licking off the superficiality of others- that’s us.

In the over-hyped, ‘quintessential’ race to be someone else, we are losing what we are. Randomly picking out strangers and playing “Haves and Have nots” is turning out to be our favourite game. The ‘glass is half empty’ guy is ruling this self-loathing world, for crying out loud.  

Metro guy is typical (as the name clearly suggests), just like all of them. He too finds it difficult to accept himself, but hate comes with ease. He looks around his fast moving world of trains, platforms and high population density, and what he sees is perfection in others (don’t exactly know why).

Standing right on the border of pink zone, he was impatiently waiting for his ride for 5 exhausting minutes now, although, the clock said 2 minutes. Just as he was about to wait more (because there’s nothing much he can do about it), metro arrives with blazing horn. He never couldn’t fully understand why they need a stupid horn, it’s not like they are going to get stuck in traffic or anything. Ignoring the thought, he stands firm at his position, quite confident that there’s where one of the door will open up.

 He critically studies his hazy reflection on the glass door, as the train stops where he expected. There is nothing much to adore, he thought gazing at the reflection. With couple of irritating beeps, the door smoothly opens up. His sorry image quickly fades out and he confronts a sharp, sturdy guy, fresh in his prime, about to de-board. Delicately pushing up Ray Ban’s sunglasses with the tip of the index finger, he takes a long step out, gracefully ‘minding the gap’. He elegantly turns to his left, while checking notifications on a high-priced smart phone and simultaneously adjusting the noise-bursting Skull Candy’s earphone. He starts grooving as if on a vibration mode. With every step, he generates gentle footsteps sound, diverting attention to his smart-looking loafers. Every movement was crying out “grace”, and like that he left the platform, still grooving.  

“I want to be him”, metro guy enviously mumbled to himself. 

Do you know how today’s fairy tale goes like? “Magic Mirror, on the wall, who, now, is the acceptable one of all?” And the answer will never be us.
  

Why is it so difficult to understand that by constantly feeding on the miserable thoughts of incompetence, we are only sucking out the true lively spirit out of us.

Why can’t we just love what we are, even if no one else does (especially then)!

Metro and the Boo-Boo stuff

We all are free birds, they claim. Free to think, act and react. But, I am not entirely sure if it makes any sense to those stranded on land, practically wingless. Evidently, we- chickens and ostriches of the bird family- are incapable of making our own choices because of the stubborn mind bossing around and mischievous heart goofing around. We can’t stand by our opinion as we are afraid that, eventually, it’s going to hurt someone’s petty feelings- communal, love, religious; you name it and it’s there, ready to get hurt for no reason. Apparently, we don’t even have the fundamental right to dislike anything or anyone.’ It’s not very polite’, the hypocrites say. ‘Just smile. Absorb your disgust. Be gentle. Act like you give a damn.’

Metro guy- another wingless bird- wondered if he can ever openly express his hatred; his hostility towards the tiny humans- the babies and their irritating boo-boo stuff.

The metro guy always believed that there are two kinds of people that can survive this brutal world. Those who love and adore babies, and others who masterfully pretend that they ‘love and adore’ babies. ‘That’s an ugly little fellow you are carrying’, said no one outloud, while pointing towards a baby (atleast no one alive). It’s a fact that not many people will go on record and say that they hate those little vicious screamers with ‘I-will-shit-anywhere-and-anytime-I-want-to’ attitude. It’s hard to loathe something that every other person so blindly worships as their ‘cutie-pie’ god.

It just takes a stupid yawn, a toothless smile, meaningless utterances (abaaa, boo boo, khi khi) and people frantically go ‘awww’. He never understood what’s so endearing about these petite clumsy creatures. All he knew was that they are the harbingers of deafening noise and choking smell. You can’t even hear yourself think. Your headphones fail you. The book loses all interest. The peace outside turns chaotic. The presence of one child in the compartment marks the end of any possible productive work.

He hated their guts. These creatures easily get what he only dreamed of- a comfortable seat, attention of girls, recognition by the crowd and instant altruistic love.  World may call them adorable, but to him, they are just sadistic dwarves. He clearly recalled an incident when he was hunting for a metro seat. He marked a middle seat in the row, which he guessed was going to get vacant at Rajiv Chowk. He stood there vigilant, hoping for his prophecy to come true. It was a regular family- a timid father, a masculine mother and an infant disguised as ‘sweet’. Soon, the child showed his true colours and began crying for no reason. Parents were clueless.  They shook him, swung him, sang to him but all in vain. Luckily, the mother advised to take the baby outside for some fresh air. Metro guy’s eye sparkled. He anchored his foot in front of their seats, indicating his contendership to those standing nearby. The father obeyed and slowly rose from his seat with baby in his arms. Metro guy added another score in his ‘guess book’. The father was halfway there, almost away from the seat but suddenly that half-witted child stopped crying, maybe for the same unknown reason he started it. The father happily sat back and that little devil turned his face and gave me an evil grin.

‘He did it on purpose’, metro guy shockingly mumbled to himself.   

The ‘Hmm’ moments

“Evolution is, undoubtedly, an intriguing concept. Apart from the mind-numbing terminologies and plethora of dates, what it really claims is that it took us thousands of years to get out of a cave, just to enter into new cemented one; to transform from an untamed wild animal to a modern social puppet, fighting for acceptability; to balance out on two legs instead of four, just so we can fall on our asses, and, lastly, to inculcate some advanced form of communicative methods (both verbal and written), just so we can go back to ‘hmm’-ification of our regular conversations.

Human behaviour is surreal and, sometimes, beyond the understanding of humans themselves. The years of evolution taught us to convey ourselves to other fellow beings, not just our needs but deeply buried sentiments too, with the help of better symbolism and numerous languages. But, now look where we are, as if back to stone age. The reactions again turned to ‘hmm’, ‘ohh’, ‘huhh’, duhh’, ‘phew’,’hurr’, ‘ahem’, ‘argh’. In short, hmm’-ification of our daily chats. All those scripts and texts written by our ancestors seem futile as now we returned to making nonsensical sounds.

Burdening our larynx for nothing—“

Metro guy stopped hitting the innocent keys of his laptop as he was interrupted by a middle-aged, shabbily dressed man sitting proudly beside him (getting a seat in metro is always a matter of pride). He shifted his eyes from the bright laptop screen to a relatively dull, yet curious face sitting on his right.

“Hmm?” the metro guy plainly responded.

“Bhaiya ye HP ka laptop hai? Achha lag rha he...features kya he?” the stranger kept asking without waiting for answer.  

“Hmm”, replied the metro guy irritatingly. (Isn’t it amazing that one can use the same sound to both pose a question and offer an answer?)

“Mere maasi ke ladke ke paas bhi yahi model he shayad...”, he continued with his rubbish story and somehow ended up giving up the detailed information about his grandmother’s surgery, property rates in his areas, and criminal background of his political candidate.

Metro guy always figured that there are usually two kinds of people riding with you- those fellow travellers who don’t give a damn about your existence, and then there are people who think that it’s ‘Share-everything-with-a-stranger Day’. And his instincts said that the constantly buzzing person, like a guilty in confession box, belongs to the latter kind.

But our guy faced every question with a strong ‘ohh’ and ‘hmm’.

Apparently, the curiosity to express ourselves has severely diminished. We are active in social media but lagging behind in actual social interactions. What we now share is not emotions, but emoticons. The essence of real conversations is slowly withering away with the options of ‘What’s app’ and ‘Hike’.

Isn’t it true, hmm?

When Metro Guy stumbled upon his dream-girl

Tell us to find some decade-old book from the wilderness of our cupboard and we dare move a muscle. Tell us to look out for the long-lost remote cell in the dark underworld of our bed and we gift you our biggest yawn. But, when it comes to finding ourselves a ‘dream girl’, we are bloody Indiana Jones. For us, it’s all a great adventure that we love to embark upon.

Like an over-enthusiastic child, we make a long list of qualities (one of our digging tool) that we most admire, and often lack. “Must be tall, but not more than us; hair to be curly but not half-boiled noodles; brainy, but with a charm; glowing skin but not a 230 volt bulb...”

The story somewhat remains the same for our metro guy. In his every metro journey, he constantly seeks out for his fascinating miss perfect. Trying to find her in every magnetic feminine face (* conditions apply). Absorbing every potential beauty around him and passing it through the process of screening, and verifying it with THE list. As a matter of fact, it’s a cumbersome procedure without any reimbursements.  

But you know what the funny thing is? It will be a totally different scenario when you come across her. Believe me; you are in for a surprise.    

While doing his usual task, i.e., searching for a seat, the metro guy stood breathless when he encountered her dream girl, gracefully standing there at the platform, just a thick, broad glass-window separating them. The list was now insignificant, as luckily he was looking at a much better version, someone who can be the optimum foundation of a fresh upgraded list. Someone he can look at with same zeal, over and over again. When from the sea of darkness, a strong source of light appears, it makes you temporary blind. You can see nothing but the hard-hitting brightness stays there for some time. Same thing happens when you see “your-type-of-girl” in a crowded place. She shines out from the pack of normal people, making you temporary blind towards those completely irrelevant. The only thing that stays there in front of your bedazzled retina is her beautiful face and it’s not hard-hitting at all. 

In a parallel universe, he would've had jumped out of the metro, approached her with a grinning face and a cheesy romantic line. But, then he realised what he looked like, and cursed himself for missing out on all those irritating romantic flicks. In the end, he just ogled her like a child with an unrealistic hope of an eye-contact. Wondering what his destiny will roll out. For the first time in his metro life, he prayed for a technical problem. So that the ride just stops there, glued to that particular frame which is so soothing to his eyes.

But, alas, the gate got closed and metro, like life, moved on. The metro guy just waved that opportunity and his dream girl goodbye. Still hopeful!   

Riding the hate-train

You know what makes us emotionally screwed? We love to hate things, and we are not even a bit choosy about it. We despise those things that never happen to us; for instance, true love, a rich dying grandfather, conditionless sex (or in some cases, just sex), and for all that we curse our destiny. Nonetheless, we also loathe things that are meant for us, mostly shrugging it off because of our ever growing discontentment.  In nutshell, we can’t bear what’s theirs, and can’t adore what’s ours. If we add up both the equations, what we get is unreasonable hatred for every-damn-thing that somehow affects our lives.

With the right set of eyes and the ability to interpret, one can witness this phenomenon anywhere, and metro compartments are no different; infact, they are more like a black market of abomination. Getting all the negativity at wholesale prices.  

The long queue at the entry point, paranoid police officers, insufficient metro card balance, insanely slow person blocking the way, out of order escalators, overloaded lifts, too many stairs, suppressing the fetish to cross the yellow line, wrong announcements, boarding Vaishali instead of Noida City centre; all of them are merely starters to our hate feast. One can easily imagine how worse things can get once the train commences its journey.

If we are standing up, we stare down hard at those sitting and proud. And if, out of sheer luck, we are blessed with a seat, we tend to dig out reasons to dislike it too- space not sufficient, co-passenger is sweaty, view is not to our liking, lack of charging point, and absence of hot girl in the chosen compartment.  Moreover, their beats audio headset hanging there like an albatross around their neck or the fancy silicon mobile covers that you never thought ever existed, makes you envious like an old queen of the fairy land.

The slightest of acts in the crowded compartment sparks up your rage upto Delhi’s summer temperature. An unintentional, harmless push appears either to be a battle-call to your masculinity or an assault to your sexuality. The innocent turn of newspaper pages torture your eardrums for a dreadful crime that you never committed. You may think that every element of the universe is out there to infuriate the deeply buried jolly-good-fellow out of you.

It clearly proves that we are pro at disliking stuff. But, is it really something to gloat about! This skill doesn't even qualify to be added into our resume, yet we apply it in our lives. Hate and its numerous evil off-springs significantly affect the way of our life- the way of love and affection.   

It’s time that we take our pre-conceived notions and negative perspectives, slant them by 45 degree, and see everything from the new set angle. I think it’s time to extract some gold out of those coal mines. Look for something beautiful in our everyday situations. Feel content. Try smiling instead of frowning. I think it's high time we realise that hate is too expensive to be spend on lousy things, try love, it's cheaper. 

Setting up the track

We, humans, are not as glorious as we like to presume. We think too much about ourselves, speak a lot about others. We like to exaggerate what we are, by inflating our achievements and hiding our failures. We boast of listening to our true heart, instead of manipulative mind, but hardly ever able to differentiate which voice is coming from where. ‘There’s no sound-tracking device inside here, dude’, we stupidly say to excuse ourselves. We wait for something big to happen and, thus, ignore those latent minute moments: a walk in the rain, an unexpected eye contact, sharing a chocolate, reading a book, free WiFi, laughing with friends, keeping a secret, conversing with your crush, and countless other gems.

But, he was different. He believed in ‘God of Small things’. He celebrated those tiny moments which some even fail to notice. Unlike others, he was not a hypocrite, but a fickle-minded for sure. The guy I am talking about here was known for his intense pauses and habit of drifting into an unknown world.  He was a kind of person who never stayed where he didn't felt belonged and hence stayed alone, in his dreams and world of expectation.  It’s not like there was any shortage of faces; they were flying all around him. Some also putting on a show of love and care, but it was his inability to read those faces which made him float apart. ‘If you can’t read them, you can’t trust them’, as his policy goes about the bond formation. He paved his way into lonesome only after juggling through a social construct called friendship. For him, it was just a familiar crowd which buzzed around when he needed some space and left him alone when he was desperate for some warmth.

It was this very loneliness and mistrust that drove him to the outside world of strangers and beauty. In search of companionship, he started looking at things in a different way, which drastically changed him from the inside. He found all his answers and even framed some new questions in this newly discovered world of chaos and peace, hanging together in equilibrium.  Believe me when I say, it was no fairy land, but the fast-moving real world of Delhi Metro Rail Corporation.  Strange, isn’t it? It’s in those metro rides, he recognised and understood the myriad elements of life. Now, he looked at people not because of their appealing beauty or weirdness. He looked for something more meaningful and smiled when he did. He would breathe in the view outside and sew his own world using those props. He deciphered the complexities of relationships by merely having a healthy chat to himself, in the long metro ride.  

It’s not a story that I am going to narrate but an imperfect knot of moments called life, the life of an ordinary me and an ordinary you. The life of a typical metro guy.