the unbearable lightness

we lived in humbler times and we weren't so devilishly smart.  we used public transport and were not surrounded by people who service us.  we drove to school in old cars that stuttered and stopped. we rode in taxis not metro cabs.  we understood the strange discomfort of sitting next to a mini van driver whose hand rose up your thigh when he switched the gear.  we were real and closer to earth.  we wished we had jobs. we wished we could escape. we wished for London. we waited for the guy who twisted candy into dolls and cars. we waited for the thelay wala who sold clay pottery. we saved 20 rupees for a giant balloon shaped like a sausage.  we collected coins and cried when the pottery broke.  we were sad when it burst.  we knew the kite seller by name. we rubbed glass on the string.  we rented cycles, and dealt with adults as we understood them.  they weren't soft.  they wanted money for their wares.  they sold cancer for a quarter if you had one.  if they smiled, they wanted to touch you.  they were always ready to pull your leg, or give you a smashing, or both.  they were cross with the world.

--

thank goodness we got away. went to a place where children and people had rights and were spoken to.  a place where there were movements for justice, gender, environment, labor, immigrants. before long even their hypocrisy, contradictions and limitations dawned upon us.  every movement for equity was marred by unceasing, internal dialogue.  every campaign problematized.  every effort tainted by personal insecurities framed as a quest to achieve purer politics. every one thought they were more radical.  everyone laughed at Hitchens and Hoodbhoy.  while neo-cons dropped bombs overseas, stacked up the dollar piles, stole healthcare, we held unending meetings and produced emails and flyers.  they bludgeoned humanity in broad strokes, while we swam against the current.  we were invisible to the world, impotent, ineffective, and bogged down in our own self importance and desire for acclaim.

the world was complex, and the left was drowning in in-fights while little girls and boys had to prostitute themselves for food.

but at least living in the world had given us perspective.  we were privileged, but polite, self indulgent, but not distorted or one dimensional.  we knew that life can be kinder gentler, difference is good, dialogue civilized, political work can be organized in excel, tools can be used to make it louder. we'd shared in the company of Lesbians and Indians who accepted us, forgave us for our shame, and listened when we spoke. we had interned with progressive Jews who worshipped habeas by day, slept with the first amendment by night, brought us cakes at farewells -- but gave jobs to their nieces.  And at the end of the day, and as you get older, isn't a huge chunk of life about getting a pay-check?

actually, things are much worse out here than what we left as kids.

we have an ineffective left. they have an ineffective left.  we have free market. they have free market.  forget systems of oppression for a sec.  here is the key difference that makes all the difference. things are blunt and raw here, and nothing to soften the blow.  little regulation, no consciousness, no movement, no reflection, no town halls at schools for consumer labor gender rights, no discussions about equality for the disabled, sexual minorities, people in poverty.  Just rudimentary bits here and there started at the behest and whim of some elite, and not organic.  In a nut shell this is the movement: recycle, save turtles, mangroves, raise money for floods, go to dar ul sakoon, the citizens foundation, and SIUT, work for self serving ngos that scramble for funds and fame, start your own project, make it self sustaining.

the overwhelming drive is money, the vehicle is violence.  and in a country that's not a country but an anarchic corporation and a mafia, a laissez faire without even a tiny conscience, perhaps this is natural and obvious.

those who care for rights of Hindus will curse labor unions.  those who fight for women's rights will condone drones.  in an anarchic corporation, even rights based dialogue can not be coherent, and is necessarily corrupted.  liberals who lay claim on this dialogue have contracted the space for discussion by defining the frames of reference - and all else is taliban or naivety - or does not happen in english.

all education is private.  all people are independent contractors.  each for himself.  freedom of contract.  open doors to foreign capital.  destroy planet.  eat iftar.

the artisans the traders the carpenters the potters the tailors of yesteryear - co opted by the rich who added value, sold their crafts in exhibition halls and AC stores, and made their homes in phase 8.  its no wonder when truck art and coolies show up in their ads because that's what it is all about and the irony is lost on them.

silver jewelry wala at gulf store tells me ladies buy his stuff and sell it for double in a fancy hotel lobby.  his store is nice; he's talking shit to me.  how many layers is this distortion and discord.  how fogged up are we.

so allow me to bang my head against the wall.

a conversation with some laissez faire worshippers.  this could happen in america too, but there would be more to it.  a little more.  much more in the details. and the history of the law, the movement, the backlash.

me: unions are important. we need job security. you can be fired for no cause.
they: no one has job security and unions are bad.
me: but what about your intellectual capital that can't be put in a bank and does not accrue interest.
they: you get a pay-check don't you.  management is reasonable. you will not be fired.
me: but management can be unreasonable.  absolute power, absolute corruption.
they: management is nice, fair. you just got to go talk to them.
me: by default when you leave your life at the whim of one manager, it won't be long before he fires you for taking a pencil, or for the cologne you use, or because your results dropped.
they: then don't steal a pencil; get the results.
me: I won't steal a pencil.  but what if someone younger can do my work for less.
they: you can improve; you can read; you can compete with the young by staying ship shape.
me: but not everyone is Madonna. people are real; they try, they falter, they keep up, they fail. there's security in numbers.
they: then it's good that they are replaced by someone younger and better and cheaper.
me: what of the 10 year intellectual capital? I should self annihilate.
they: management has put in real capital. real money.
me: and I am on my ass without a pension, no health care, no old age.
laissez faire one: I was offered a pension
laissez faire two: you have pension? ...I don't have pension.
me: management is nice. why don't you ask?

victory dance.