The need to fit in

The Stranger (Novella by Albert Camus, 1942)
Feature Film (Italian; 1967)

Director: Marcello Mastroianni

The last few years of his existence were not particularly pleasant. It started with diabetes which progressively affected his night vision. His occasional falls off his motorcycle, and a fracture shook his confidence. Progressively, the Penang roads appeared too hostile to his liking. He lost his independence when his children did not allow him to renew his driving and bike licences.

From then on, things only went south. Two episodes of strokes later and a urinary bladder's tumour afterwards with the ensuing therapy made life more miserable. If that was not enough, the accidental falls, lacerations and worsening eyesight added to his misery and the people living around him. Many unsavoury words were hurled out of frustrations. 

So, when the day of reckoning finally came, it was a relief of sorts. At least, that is how I looked at it. Released from the distresses of the mortal life, he could be free in the netherworld, free of aches and pangs.

Albert Camus
1957 Nobel Prize in Literature

But, came the funeral; the very people who were frustrated with his demands were the first to have no qualms in displaying their emotive expressions of sorrow. They were shameless with their verbose exhibition of grief. Weepers behaved as if they were young orphans who were left in a quandary of losing a sole remaining parent. And I had the queasy feeling that they expected the same of me.

I wondered what they thought of me as I went on to do the final rites. I, too, was asking myself whether I had psychopathic tendencies for not sharing their same sentiments. I was relieved that he was free of his miseries and could take a long sleep, knowing very well that he did not have to wake up to another day, endure its uncertainties and drag through another 24 hours of pain. He was free from any encumbrances. 

I did not think mourners shared my viewpoints. In their minds, certain conduct is expected of a member in a particular community, barring which he is scorned upon. He would be labelled as deviant, not right in his head, not fit to be one of them.

The same sentiments must have been felt by the protagonist of Camus' 1942 novella 'The Stranger'. Arthur Mersault, a free thinker, is informed of his mother's death in a retirement home. Mersault never had a cordial relationship with his mother but, looking at it as his filial duty, he attends to the final rites. He merely whisks through the rituals without much attachment to his loss. He even declines the offer to see his mother's body for the last time before the coffin is nailed. 

The weekend following the funeral saw Mersault go for a swim, a movie with his girlfriend and an outing by a beach. He also helps his acquaintance, an unsavoury character, who is rumoured to be a pimp, to pen a threatening letter to his two-timing girlfriend. 

When Mersault is finally charged in the second half of the story for the murder of the brother of the pimp's girlfriend, his character is implied from his earlier behaviours. The clearly conservative legal system finds Mersault guilty as he is deemed a person of low morals and without a guiding stand in life because of his irreligiosity. In the 'righteous' jury mind, a person who is so nonchalant about the demise of the person who gave him life would not provide an iota of hesitation and remorse to gun down a defenceless Arab boy.

That is how it is. We are left to stay afloat on this journey of life without its purpose and try to find answers as we go on. We are doubtful about our perception, but we still convince ourselves that we have all answers. We try to reassure ourselves by spreading and forcing our beliefs on others. The more a lie is repeated, it eventually becomes the truth. We become more cocksure by the numbers. Any revolt against this status quo creates cognitive dissonance, the mental discomfort and frustrations about all the time and effort wasted upon a dogma. And we would fight it with tooth and nail.

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Who is to say?

Everybody has their own whims and fancies. We all have their idiosyncrasies. Somehow deep inside, we feel that we got to where we are because of what and how we did it. We must have done something right.

That gives us the assurance that all things in life would turn out the way we want if it were done that particular way. And it would definitely turn sour if it were not done so. We all have our superstitions, and it gives us the conviction that everything will be alright if performed in such ritualistic manner. Nobody knows or can explain the sciences behind such an endeavour, but we do it anyway. What if something goes wrong? The stakes are too high to risk to engage in such a gamble.

I was in the company of some friends. We had decided to finally meet up after numerous failed attempts to get together due to pressing work engagements. What better time and place to meet than at a local sports’ restaurant with a giant screen display of the week’s big English League football game. The scene was set, and the game commenced. I noticed that my friend, M, had his back facing the TV screen. To the amusement of everyone in the group, he insisted on sitting that way!

Over the years, he had noticed that whenever his favourite team was playing, the team would win if he was not watching the game. The team fared poorly every time he viewed. The excitement of wanting to be in the thick of things when his team was playing was too overwhelming that he had to compromise - be at the game but not view it directly. Hence, he had resorted to such an arrangement. The rule has certain exceptions, of course. It is okay for him to see instant replays and pre-recorded games as these are not in real time.

His belief was further reinforced in that outing. After having his back face his screen throughout the two halves of the game, his team did indeed win the match. Deep inside, he must be glad that, in his own small way, he contributed to the success of his team, albeit his small butterfly fluttering way. This, against the variable biorhythms of the players, off/on forms of footballers, dirty tactics of the opponents, the invisible hands of the bookies, the state of non-level playing fields and many more unknown scientific and un-scientific factors. If it makes him entertained, who is to say?

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Just a job or a calling?

You are made to believe that the way to do it is divine. That, the effort that you put in your work is like serving God. That, you are performing the Almighty's job on Earth. You do not have to display your piety for others to see. All you have to do is to serve, everything else will take care of itself. You follow suit. 

Then you realise that life cannot be all work. The people that you thought you have been sacrificing all your life for suddenly turn their back against you. They start hurling accusations of this and that. That you had been shortchanging them; that that is your job - your only job is to serve them. You, on the other hand, thought they would be eternally grateful to you for you had sacrificed everything for them in the course of your vocation. You thought yours was a calling. It, apparently, was not. It was just another job. You are just another spoke in the machinery of society that moves it forward.

The tale that the people before you told were just to ensure that everyone kept their gab shut and did as they were told. You were the clown cajoled to maintain equilibrium while those in the realm of power did what they did best- flaunt their power. You were suckered into believing that you were doing something right, something noble, something indispensable but... the wrong answer.

Yama's scribe who keeps the record of peoples'

karma. © Devdutt Pattanaik

You had worked like your life depended on it, now you have to work as that is the only work you know. And any remote chance to clear your name depended on it as the pressures of seeking legal representation mounts together with their bills. Your future, your honour, your own self-esteem, removing your name of alleged negligence all rest on it. 

Yours, they say, is just a job. Just like everybody else, you are given a job. But, your duties are not a 9 to 5 pushing buttons or envelopes kind of work. You cannot just wash your hands come punch-out time. In fact, you do not clock out. You are beyond all that and more. 

Hence the dilemma...

You convince yourself that Chitragupta and St Peters are taking the tally.

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Just the flavour of the day?

With the spate of events one after another, honouring someone in one way or another, I started thinking.

Somebody sent an intercontinental Raksha Bhandhan greetings to his new found sister from another mother whilst refusing to recognise the existence of his own biological one. Another tied the band of allegiance with much disdain just for the sake so as not to break the tradition. In real life, this brother-sister duo was like snake and mongoose, eternal mortal enemies. When they met, one would look West whilst the other looked East, such were their animosity. Come to tying the string of brotherly protection in the world so hostile; they were all geared with sweets, nuts and showers of incense water to fragrance their sharing of common DNA!

Same with Mothers, Fathers, Labourers, Farmers, zodiac animals in the Chinese calendar and the Hindu scriptures revered animals, the sacred cows and the divine Elephants. 

The animal denoting the iconic remover of hurdles, the wise one who is given the auspicious salutations before any new venture, is held on a pedestal on Vinayagar Sathurthi is treated like just like another carbon footprint trying to squeeze its existence on planet Earth. Much like the symbolic mother of the nation whose milk was even shunned by the Father of India for the ill treatment accorded to it to draw its elixir of life. The cows are bathed, horns painted and fed rich food only to face the reality of being born a lesser being, a cow, a day after Mattu Pongal.

Well, the real reason the festivities is that people just want to have fun. And it is the economy, stupid!

Humanity or rules: which takes precedence?

Unnal Mudiyum Thambi (உன்னால் முடியும் தம்பி, You can do it Brother, Tamil; 1988)
Direction: K. Balachander

A young Brahmin boy is busy chanting hymns under his breath as he walks to the temple lake to perform his daily abolitions. He sees a blind, hungry beggar struggling to pick up a piece of banana thrown for her. He can see that she is going to fall off the stairs, but he does not help her. He does not want to break his ritual. Another beggar who sees the whole scenario helps her but admonishes the boy for giving more importance to rituals than humanity. Herein lies the dilemma that plagued the adolescent for the rest of his life. One one hand, his father, is a dogmatic stickler of Vedantic scripture and a classical Indian music maestro who would rather die than to have the age-old Hindu traditions desecrated. One the other hand, the boy, Udayamurthi (Kamalhasan), can see so much social injustice around him that his father, a big man in the society, is turning a blind eye.

Udaya is the younger of the two sons of the maestro (Gemini Ganesan). The pressure is mounting on him to continue the family tradition as the older brother is vocally challenged. Conflicts arise as the father has set his bar too high to achieve, and Udaya is just not cut for it. His attention is in social work. To make matters worse, he falls for a firebrand same-minded girl who is from the untouchable caste.

The rest of the story is how Udaya reforms the working class people of his area. He gets the men to stop drinking and getting the kids going to school again instead of working as child labours in an illicit match factory nearby to finance their fathers' unquenchable appetite to the bottle.

This social motivational movie is a feel good one to impress upon the masses that their fate is within their control. They should not surrender everything to fate but instead, grab the bull by their horns and change things for the better. It hints that traditional rituals are selfish in that it is only to prosper one's own self for their afterlife or karmic cycle, not for the present life on earth. As to serve the needy is divine, there is no need to search far to seek the real purpose of life. It is staring right at our faces.

Keeping with the times, the 80s, when there was a renaissance of sorts to revive the richness of South Indian music, the various ragas and talas are highlighted here. The doyens, Gemini, Manorama (as Udaya's sister-in-law) and Kamal himself gave sterling performances.

The burning question remains. Are we living for the now or is our sole purpose of survival here is to accumulate points for the afterlife which is a mighty long time? Is living a hedonistic process of self-indulgence, self-gratification, being happy and self-centred? Or is a life dedicated to other fellow human beings need? We will never know in our lifetime just like the many who have tried and left their thoughts behind for us to ponder and stay ever confused and non-wiser!