Be ordinary?

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck (Documentary, 2023)

Director: Nathan Price

Based on the book of the same name by Mark Manson (2016)

I have seen this book staring with sad eyes at me numerous times, pleading to be picked up. I always gave it a pass. Firstly, with profanity flashed on its cover, I thought the target readers must be Gen-Ys or millennials. They may find a reason to seek a book on self-help or, perhaps, perfect the art of not giving a damn about anything or whatever. I, on the other hand, was beyond help.

When a trailer bearing the same title appeared on Netflix, curiosity got the better of me.

After going through the documentary, I find that the content is more profound than its low-brow title. There is much philosophy to learn, as narrated from the life and times of the author, Mark Manson, by himself. 

He started his teenage years on the wrong footing. Caught with drugs in his locker, he got into the wrong side of the law. His parents divorced afterwards. He drifted through his late teenage years and early adulthood in a daze, experiencing the death of a close friend and unfaithful girlfriend. Somewhere along the way, he received a sort of epiphany that made him question the purpose of life. That soul-searching gave birth to the book and, now, the documentary.

What I gathered from this presentation is this: The modern society feels that the purpose of life is to experience happiness. It constantly tries to avoid pain and anything that stirs the psyche and raises anxiety. Pain and tragedy are bad words that must be avoided at all costs. Through his personal life experiences, the author posits that pain and tragedy are the necessary evils that strengthen us. We become resilient to whatever curveballs that life throws. Like what Nietzsche said,  probably parroting Vedanta's teachings, events in life are cyclical. Things get better and turn for a dip every so often.

The current Western teaching where happiness is the be-all and end-all of everything, we end up feeling entitled. We demand nothing else but to be satisfied. We want to be in control all the time.

The author thinks that a nihilistic outlook on life leads to more contentment. We should realise that we do not control anything. Everything is beyond our control. We should be humble enough to know we are mortal, just waiting to die. Being cocksure about something may lead to our downfall, exemplified by the example of  Lt. Hiroo Onoda, the last Japanese WW2 soldier to leave the Philippines in 1974. He spent a good 29 years in the jungle, convinced that Japan was still at war. Despite numerous attempts at bringing him back, he was confident that the whole exercise was fake news. What a waste of fruitful years of life?

Be ordinary; that is what he is saying.

You are nobody. You are not unique, which contradicts what the psychological community and management gurus say. The modern world tells each of us that we are entitled, and the rest can just go to hell. The 'me' as the centre of reference disappoints us when things do not go our way because, in our mind, we are special.

Many may not agree with his rhetoric. People need to think outside the box. Society needs mad people who can push the boundaries and would not stop at any extent to prove their point; civilisation needs them.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

The pressure cooker life?

Beef (Miniseries, S1E1-E10; 2023)

Netflix

This convoluted drama reveals the whole message behind its story only in the last two episodes of the season. Suddenly everything made sense. It tries to show how fragile we are as a society, to maintain peace and to fit in. We pull up a front to portray an image of Zen to the outside world, but deep inside, we hate the person beside us. We wish we could just wring their necks. Unfortunately, civil society does allow this. So we suppress that urge. As we did in our cavemen days, we yearn to be part of the pack to hunt together. Our strengths lie in our numbers.

We exhibit specific behaviours in front of people but let our hair down and show our true inner demons under the cloak of anonymity. In public, we are expected to utter certain pre-ordained niceties. When somebody mentions death, the automatic response is, "I am sorry!" irrespective of whether he died as a national hero or OD'ed. We are expected to put a smiley face in public, no matter how low morale or bad our day has been. We may have had a shitty day at the office, or a Damocles sword could be hanging over our necks over a misadventure. Our professional reputation may be at stake over a misjudgement.

In this cut-throat world where everybody is trying to make a cut for himself, the stresses of the job bring out the worst in us. Yet we are expected to wear an Odin mask but with a perpetual grin.

In a world where siblings care for each other, sometimes love smothers. Instead of stirring interests, it muffles them. In the name of doing the best, it is quite the opposite.

Many things are expected of us in this lifetime - to leave our mark, succeed in life, acquire wealth, continue our progeny, exhibit filial piety, conform to societal expectations, and so on. Go marry and be merry, but can you?

This film shows two characters who are actually on the same life journey with similar life ambitions but end up on opposing sides of society. They kept bottling up the anger of their unfulfilled dreams and the pressures of wanting to mould themselves into doing the 'correct' thing. It reached a point of no return when these two characters honked at each other at a supermarket car park.

Danny, a Korean American handyman, was in the USA with his brother Paul. Danny's sole ambition is to make it big in his business with his brother, build a house and bring his parents from Korea. Somehow all his endeavours proved unfruitful. On the other hand, Paul is just loafing around, just playing computer games. Danny feels he is a failure and wants to kill himself. He was at the supermarket returning the wrong burner that he had bought. He had tried to gas himself dead.

The other character is Amy. She is an example of a rags-to-riches success story. She was born Vietnamese and made it big, selling boutique potted plants. He has a husband and a young daughter. She is planning to lure a wealthy lady into investing in her company. Deep inside, she is still unhappy, undergoing an existential crisis, and finding no purpose in it all. She has many unresolved long-standing issues with her parents growing up.

The near hit at the car park was the straw that broke the camel's back. It spiralled into road rage, a tit-for-tat, social media trolling, and sabotaging, which climaxed to each other going for the jugular.

In the last two episodes, we see them stranded in the woods and fighting for survival. They have to depend on each other to stay alive. A good watch which showcases the Maya of what we see. The world is a big show, and we are acting our roles, reading the script. We are to follow the scripts carefully or risk expulsion. Just maybe, if we alter the words slightly, the final product may shine brighter. Is it worth the try?

PS Sometimes Easterners go with a chip on their shoulders, thinking that their way of living is superior to the Western philosophy, which they believe to be so individualistic and self-centred. At the end of the day, they would soon realise that either way of thinking has its shortcomings.

Quotable Quotes from the Miniseries


    'You ever notice how people who have money think that money isn't important?'

    'Jesus did all those nice things, and look at what they did to him.'

    'Western therapy doesn't work on Eastern minds.'

    'God's just trying not to feel alone in nothingness.'

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Follow

Where, what to eat?

No, they are not distributing free food.

It is the long queue outside a high-end 

South Indian restaurant in Kuala Lumpur.

The food is good but expensive and packed,

but that did not deter foodies near and far

from gathering in droves to satisfy their 

gastronomic desires.

Some Singaporean study determined that hardly anybody cook in Singapore anymore. Almost everyone has their meals at the many food outlets around the island. For the other privileged consumers, delivery services are willing to bring gourmet to the doorstep at a small fee.

Economic downturn or not, ever since the lockdown was lifted, people swarmed in droves to patronise the food outlets like there was no tomorrow. They have no qualms about waiting for hours, salivating, and standing in rows around the corner.

It does not matter if the quality of food is suspect. It is impossible for all foods ordered online to be monitored for hygiene as they mostly escape authority scrutiny. It is not possible to quantitate food that will be supplied beforehand. Estimates are estimates. If the food provided is too much, what does one do? Since it is politically incorrect to dispose of unwanted food, they may consume more than they require to survive.

There is no price control. It is the market forces that would determine the suitable price.

With their busy schedules, wearing multiple hats, and performing many roles, the present generation finds it impossible to incorporate cooking as one of their list of duties. Gendered assignment duties do not come into the equation.

If cooking is difficult, try choosing a food outlet to meet your constantly fickled appetite and craving for variety. And not to forget the partner who will accompany you for lunch, dinner or whatever. Worried about losing culinary art? Who cares? That stuff, one can pick it up right off Youtube!

Eating out is convenient, affordable, less time-consuming and offers many choices in food selection. 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence.

Follow

Follow

Follow

A little too much!

Recently, during my last trip to a town right in the centre of the Hindi heartland, I had the fortune of interacting with some friends who would be relatives. A chance conversation with some female members of the society jogged my memory back to a time when my girls were developing into late teenagers, growing horns and their pointed devil's tails were sprouting. 

My wife was getting acquainted with two female members of the family. This is somewhat the direction the conversation took. 

"Hi, since we know each other now," wifey said. "Maybe we should exchange numbers and contact each other!"

Our hosts, almost in unison, replied, "...but you have our husband's numbers. You can call that number. "

"No, I don't have your numbers."

"We share the same phone." was the reply.

I could see my wife's eyes pop in amazement. 

"But, but I am sure you want to check your Facebook, WhatsApp, etcetera."

The homely girls cooly replied, "Nah, we don't need them."

"How about when you go out shopping and need to call someone?" wifey asked.

Again, the girls looked at each other, kind of bewildered. "When we are at home, you can contact us at the home landline. When we go out with our husbands, we use their phones!"

It looked much like a non-issue to them.

Ten years previously, my wife and I were in the same predicament. My teenage daughters were up in arms like they felt it was their right to own a mobile phone at that age. In their eyes, it was a natural passage of rites to be initiated into a digital world to mark their presence as human beings on Earth. All rules and regulations on parental controls just went down the drain. It is all water under the bridge now, all done and dusted. 

It looks like we had initiated ourselves into the first world by acquiring their problems. We were not worrying about basic needs but digital availability and access. There was a need for digital expression and digital freedom. We were not talking about covering the bare essentials but demanding the right to expose more than needed.

We are trapped in a conundrum between one side that demands too much versus the other that needs too little. When you have little, you demand more. When you have in abundance, you want less.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Nothing is sacrosanct!

Gehraiyaan (Depths, Hindi; 2022)

Director: Shakun Batra

The democratisation of movie-making has led to this - an Indian fairy tale movie made in the vein of a soft porn Western movie just to lure in India's Anglophile liberal English movie-going viewers. The only thing remotely linked to Indianness is the spoken language; otherwise, it is just like any garbage churned out of the factories in Hollywood, sex, lies, murder, and obnoxious flaunting of wealth. 

The following are the few lessons I leant from this movie:

• It is perfectly alright to have sex with your best friend's boyfriend without having a second thought or an iota of guilt;
• It appears to me that wealth is the justification for everything. After all, living life is for the experience. Doing the morally right thing does not fall anywhere near the equation;
• Two-timing is perfectly within your rights;
• Consuming alcohol is your birthright; indulge even when you are pregnant;
• DIY abortion is a no brainer; perform it in your bathroom; 
• Murder your lover and keep mum about it; you can get away from it!
• Be opinionated about everything and do not forget to blame all your follies on your parents. After all, they know nothing;
• Scold your live-in boyfriend for everything. He is your punching bag. You can scold, abuse or even an occasional whack; he would not retaliate because it is not cool for a dude to lay his finger on his beau. His toxicity just would not be justifiable.
• A live-in relationship is a perfectly acceptable living arrangement for an Indian couple, approved by their old folks.
• Treat your family like trash but do not forget your civil duties. Taking out the garbage is the most socially conscious duty one needs to perform.

Soon spaghetti tops and hot pants would be the national
 costume of the Indian diaspora, much like is what is
viewed as progressive in most metropolitan cities.

A struggling yoga instructor, Alisha, has just had it with life. Her procrastinating boyfriend, Karan, is dragging with his book venture, and the app that she is developing has not found investors. At that juncture, he hooks up with her childhood friend, Tia, and her obscenely wealthy fiance, Zain. Alisha has a dark cloud hanging over her. Her mother had hung herself, and Alisha blames her father for it. Alisha finds Zain a convenient catch who would help her find happiness. Things take a turn when a glitch with money happens.

Watch it just for the hoopla surrounding it. If you are pressed for time, watch something else. Precious time is better spent elsewhere. 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

When is it enough?

The Disciple (Marathi, 2021)
Netflix

Life is easy with eyes closed, accepting whatever we 'see'. However, for someone who questions, examines and introspects his every move or feeling, life can be a very tedious affair. The indecisiveness and guilt are just too much to bear. The answers available to us are just too ambivalent and can be interpreted however we want to. The more one thinks about it, the more confused he becomes in choosing the desired path.

Probably that is why we all look for shortcuts. We look upon those who have been there and done that with reverence. We hope we can use their wisdom to manoeuvre through the options available to us. It is easier this way, leaving life's big decisions to what the elders preach. If only there were a 'to do' list that answers all our queries. Even then, the answers will be not so forthcoming.

See how 'man made' law need regular amendments all the time? So how is it that the 'divine decrees' stands the test of time without considering the ambiguity of societal changes and 'modernity'? 

From the viewpoint of career, most of us have to answer at one point in our lives whether to what actually gives us satisfaction in our professional duties. Is financial gain the be-all and end-all of all professions? Is being a purist and sticking to doing the right thing adhering to the profession's rules the end goal? Is financial gain the final yardstick to determine success? 

Our tutors showed us the wisdom in performing our tasks following rules and regulations set out by the doyens of our respective fields. Working in the dark, they discovered groundbreaking finds and help to enlist the dos and don'ts. We learnt and promise to uphold the 'truth' of the respective fields. We gave these truths divine statuses.

After being thrown to the deep end of the marketplace, we soon realised that the societal demands are a world of difference from what we thought. We would be caught in a conundrum whether to stay faithful to the teachings or take shortcuts to meet the customer demands? Should we be purists or pragmatists? With the passage of time and the need to perform filial piety, the pressures for monetary fulfilment supersedes that of personal vocational gratifications. Individual satisfaction takes a back seat. We crumble and fall prey to doing what is perceived as the intelligent thing.

This Marathi film reminds me of two other movies I have seen before - Satyajit Ray's Jalsaghar  (Music Room, 1958) and Inside Llewyn Jones (2013). Like in 'Jalsaghar', viewers can truly appreciate the nuances, intricacies, and various voice modulation ranges that makes classical Indian singing so unique. As in all fields of knowledge known to Indians, music is given an esteemed place as a gift from God. Singing and music are provided respectable positions in society. People submit a lifelong commitment to trying to learn music. They believe one lifetime is not enough.

Like in 'Inside Llewyn Jones', the protagonist spends a big chunk of his life thinking he is gifted musically. Only after many disappointments does he realise that he may never be good enough. Is it because his masters have set their standard too high, unattainable by his students? Or is it that the Master himself is unsure what it is to excel and what is perfection?

This movie almost made it as India's entry to the Oscars but lost out to Jallikattu. It tells the story of a young man who is in pursuit of being somebody in the field of classical Indian singing. He wants to stay true to the teachings of his Gurus, who treated the art form not as a field of knowledge but as something akin to divinity.  They looked upon music and singing as the part of Goddess Saraswati herself to master it! Thus are the intricacies and the things it is capable and we, human beings, have not even scratched its surface. One life is definitely not enough to master it. His gurus advised him to safeguard its purity. There should not be any shortcuts or selling out for commercial interests.

All these may sound romantic, but romanticism does not fill up an empty stomach. Neither does it meet the realistic challenges of modern life. Modern societies are not interested in immersing themselves intoxicated with ragas, talas and the melodic and voice control of Indian classical singing. They yearn for musical intoxication but the headbanging and lyrics with sexual innuendos, not in praise of Nature and Divinity. As one cannot sing on an empty stomach and money is essential for survival, preservation of life seems more urgent than conservation on age-old traditional music.

Slow-moving, but after all the fanfare, it makes you think. What do we actually want? How far would we go to maintain the purity of the field of our expertise? Is it alright to cut enough to meet the demand of the marketplace? Is upholding tradition at all costs worth the sacrifice, and what expense?

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Within a generation?

Zindagi inShorts (Hindi, 2020)
Netflix

This is a collection of seven short stories, just nice for light viewing and those with a short attention span. It covers a myriad of topics, with women empowerment taking centre stage. In the first episode titled 'Pinni', a housewife with exceptional culinary expertise is only appreciated for her cooking skills but not for anything else. She is just viewed as a doormat - it is there to serve a purpose, but there is no need to go fancy about it. She strikes back when her husband got no time to remember her birthday.

'Sleeping partner' narrates how a woman's role is miniaturised in a family. She rebels by expressing her sexual freedom. See how she hits back when her lover starts blackmailing her. The story touches on marital rape. 'Sunnyside Upar' cajoles us to live out the only life given to us to its fullest via the experience of a young doctor in a cancer ward. Bad things happen to good people. Just deal with it. 'Nano so phobia' brings on the plight of a lonely elderly Farsi lady who has had once too many times cried wolf to be taken seriously. 'Chhaju ke Dahi Bhalle' shows how culturally close people from Lahore and Amritsar are. Through a dating app, a Muslim girl links up with a Sikh boy. After the pleasantries, they decided to meet up at a popular eatery. After failing to meet up, they realised that they were on either side of the India-Pakistan border.

'Thappad' is a story of empowerment where an adolescent sister with her younger brother stands up against bullies. 'Swaha' is a comical rendition of an insecure husband and supposed two-timing or three-timing wife. 

It is all well and fine that more and more women are finding their places in societies. Rightly they prosper from the opportunities that were denied from them earlier due to changing societal mores. The problem is that the rebel yell for change may be happening much too rapid than it can be handled by society. It seems that the morphing of female assertations is too drastic for their counterpart and the rest of the family unit. Like a single hard slap on the face before they can realise what hit them, things have morphed within a single generation. From the demure social norms abiding mums, they have metamorphosised to groundbreaking boardroom-chairing giant figures waiting to change the world. 

Herein lies the friction. Biologically, both sexes have their respective roles in societies. They are meant to complement each other, not compete against one another. The union of the male and female forces are interdependent. The energies of Siva and Parvathi are best when working in unison. The unabated individual force would only lead to self-destruction.

Let us look at the family unit. It has become acceptable these days that it is perfectly normal for a family unit to be led by a single parent. This does not, however, concur with the findings of many social researchers. They have linked poor students' academic achievements, high incidences of delinquencies, substance abuses, teenage pregnancies and its ensuing problems to single parenthood. A proper father figure and motherly touch seem essential in wholesome parenting.

The dominant role of the male in the family system has eroded. The traditional role of a strong protector and provider has somehow evolved. They are expected to appear strong and confident only on the outside for a picture-perfect display for the public. Within the four walls, they are expected to be emotionally dependent and easily be wrapped around the strings of their apron. But then, apron neither denotes feminine nor docility. When a male does not embrace this arrangement, he is deemed to exhibit masculine toxicity. That is dealt with by cancelling!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.