The Emerging State of Restlessness

A couple of Thursdays ago, I decided to do some more burning and took some videos. The silk fabric smouldered its way into gaping holes while the cotton muslin raged a fire. It was the bright orange and yellow flames, sullying and consuming the pristine muslin, which I found empathy with. Strangely, this amused me. Later in the evening as I was embroidering, I listened to Beethoven’s violin concerto. It’s one of my all-time favourite pieces of music and hearing it for the nth time - feeling the rousing music, empathizing with its anguished melody, feeling it in my own body, I was reminded of the empathy I’d had with that raging fire in the morning.

 

I watched the video again and again. Looking at the embers dance across the edges of the fabric, I felt mesmerized, as if in awe of its rage. A mixture of black and red marks kept moving along the threads, creating an odd shape that now looks almost like that of an undiscovered country or the newly demarcated borders of an emerging one. But, it was the roaring fire that I felt excited by. Regrettably, it flared up for just a short time before fear got the better of me and I jumped upon it with glass paper weights, which I use to control the lines consumed by fire. Thak thak I went with the glass ball on the board and the fire was snuffed out.
 

Yes, I have started another train of thought. Restive as I am, I have no idea where it is going.  I feel  anxiety welling up. I want to reach that point of peacefulness and do some painstaking, repetitive and meditative embroidery. I know I cannot push it. Sometimes one has to accept the negative emotions before they can be transcended and rushing it only creates stress.  But I am not appeased. I hate this feeling of wretchedness that has enveloped me. I cannot remember ever being so restless and irritated with myself.

 

But at this point, there is just so much going on that I do not know where to put my mind. I focus on bills to be paid, feel relieved in paying them when another two are presented and my throat constricts because it means tightening the belt a bit more. Then there was the fracas with my cook.  Sometimes I wish I had been born with a less sensitive nature, less alert mind, slower memory and less discipline, so that I could be easier on those around me. We have not been talking to each for over a month. I thought I would broach the subject today, but she was not amenable to what I had to say and I cannot deal with insubordination so its status quo again. The domestic shenanigans are endless and these days I no longer think it a boon to work from home.
 

That Thursday morning [19^th September] my attention was also caught by a newspaper story of the young boy who died under mysterious circumstances while at a party in South Delhi. The new version of the mishap has been going through my mind all day, albeit in between paying bills, handling domestic issues and more. I kept wondering who to believe. One day he’s been hit on the head with a blow that ostensibly killed him. And then a journalist, from a high profile news magazine, later says that he was witness to the whole thing: that the boy was never hit upon the head and that the police took way too long taking him to the hospital so they should be questioned about this curious delay, implying that something amiss took place within this unaccounted time span. Boy, it now seems that the police goofed up, yet again!

 

Everyday someone is mysteriously killed or dies in a mishap; is raped or there are riots and the media is  hysterical about everything. They ridiculously play up most innocuous of events. And one day I noted that party officers leaving for Rajnath’s house for the final decision on Modi’s nomination, as the BJP candidate for Prime Minister in the next elections, was cited as ‘Breaking News’. Unbelievable!

 

There is so much that is going on all the time. How does anyone keep up? When things are awry, where does one even begin to take a stand? How many petitions one has signed but to what avail? And studying that raging fire, I could feel again, all these thoughts burning inside of me, seeing them reflected in the flames. It was cleansing, I was appeased a bit, but is there no better solution? Are we all going to set ablaze something to cleanse the anger we  feel?

I do not like to  rave and rant about the abysmal state of the nation and find such drawing-room conversations counterproductive. When I ask those who talk of little else what they are doing about it, I am met with an awkward  silence. But, this is short-lived, like pausing for breath, after which the practised tirade against the government continues. My philosophy is: what can I do in my capacity as an individual, within my sphere of influence, to help change the attitude/situation? As an artist, teacher, citizen, woman and all the other hats that one does wear in life, there are countless ways of doing things to make that difference. I believe that real change actually happens through these seemingly insignificant roles and our daily interactions, rather than the protest marches that have become so popular.

 

There is such chaos everywhere. While  doing my embroidery, I watched my thoughts as they tumbled out, in that relative quietude. There’s so much disharmony and pain everywhere, it is really hard to find a moment when one feels at peace with oneself. It’s hard to find clarity in this chaos. And to top it all the local Mandir blares its daily Puja, in the most dissonant voice, three times a day, needlessly adding to the cacophony. Everyone else here, is afraid to raise a voice against them so I fight my lone battle against this.

 

Yes there is a fire raging within - it’s unstoppable.  And yes, another country seems to be emerging.  Articulating its state of restlessness through delicately burnt contours of indented, curvaceous bays and oddly protruding isthmuses.  Asserting its existence against the ephemeral back-drop of a translucent, white organza: Its manifesto yet to be declared. That is, if it’s here to stay.