So I went for lunch with one of my fairly new friends in Bangalore. While he and I walk around trying to find the place he has in mind he asks me, “why are these guys staring at you?”
“They always do.”
“Yaah! Doesn’t this happen when you walk with your other female friends?”
“I don’t know. This is different. It’s the creepy kinda stare. Wait this guy is coming on the bike. Let’s see if he stares”
Silence for two seconds till the bike guy passes.
And amused, he says, “Men are so obvious!”
I perceive value, I confer value, I create value, I even create — or guarantee — existence. Hence, my compulsion to make “lists.” The things (Beethoven’s music, movies, business firms) won’t exist unless I signify my interest in them by at least noting down their names.
Nothing exists unless I maintain it (by my interest, or my potential interest). This is an ultimate, mostly subliminal anxiety. Hence, I must remain always, both in principle + actively, interested in everything. Taking all of knowledge as my province.
Are we really who we are or are we so shaped by society and what has been told to us as right or wrong. The way we dress, the food we eat, the way we speak, the emotions we express. Just looking at these two models have raised enough questions in my mind for a long discussion.
There is something about my mother’s food. Like as if it is my birth right. It is something I and only I deserve. No matter what. Whichever part of the world I am in, that is the first thing I miss about home. Is it the oil that she uses, her onion gravy or her signature garam masala? She even customizes the universal egg burji, no one can replicate that. Is it years of practice or is her secret ingredient her unconditional love for me. Or logically speaking is it years of conditioning my taste buds have gone through?
Regardless, if you have ever been away from home for a long while, you know what it means to come back and have the first morsel. It will moisten mouth and your eyes. And you’d not want to leave again just because you don’t want to lose this, what is rightly yours.