My mother’s health finally improved today. The day was spent reading The Interpretation of Dreams. It is full of interesting deductions.
That apart, it’s now impossible for me to sit in the living room as my father is always watching Zee News. The content is so overtly communal that it is repulsive.
Then, I had a feud with Low IQ over the upcoming Central Vista plan of this government, which is another vile attempt by the state at forced forgetting. Nevertheless, the debate wasted four precious hours of my life.
Beatrice had another whatsapp war with IsaBella Swan today. And she swore, for the hundredth time, that she would never talk to her again.
It’s windy out here, on the terrace. In the 21 years of my existence, this is the first time we have a terrace. My parents have finally crawled inchmeal to the top of the lower middle class pyramid. From rented dingy one BHK flats and one bicycle, we have moved to a two-storey house with terrace, flower pots, furniture and utility equipments. My brother is in IIT, studying computer science, so we are definitely moving up the ladder. It’s a remarkable feat, provided that my father, when he was 21, did not have the money to fund himself for PhD or UPSCE.
My father was a gold medallist in his post graduate. And this is something I proudly tell everyone. These days, an iceberg had lodged itself between us. But today, we talked.
He was watching regular Zee News shit, and they were arguing at the top of their lungs, and my mother was furious because everybody in the tv was furious. It was crazy. The content was so unapologetically communal that he himself rose from his sofa, as if with an epiphany, and declared,
“Ban all religions. “
Now because I have been reading Freud, I thought I was dreaming. But he continued,
“Let humanity be the only religion. Seize all the wealth from temples and mosques and redistribute it. “
Did he read communist manifesto or what!? This was beyond belief.
“You know, Ravish, in my PG I was given to write an essay on Dharma. I wrote a lengthy piece. In conclusion, I could write only this, ‘I know only one Dharma, that is to treat people like I would wish to be treated. ‘”
I felt like the prophet was speaking. My mother seemed confused as to when did he change his ideology all of a sudden. On rare occasions, my father turns into this enlightened Budhdha and he speaks out truths of life.
I sat by him and he started telling me about the business of religion and how enthusiastically those saffron clads sadhus engage in looting the people.
“Any sadhu asking for money is a thug. Any religion that needs money to exist should better perish.“
Then he started talking about wars and dangers and the fruitlessness of it. It continued for fifteen minutes after which he started talking about digestive system and all, and since I already knew what pancreas did, I quietly slipped back to my room.
But then, Beatrice had a huge fight with her uncles. They are NRI engineers, who have become right wingers. They don’t value humanities as an intellectual pursuit. Money-minded robots. It was a lot for her to take. So I told her to rebel.
I am not a Budhdha yet, but I know this:
You need to give yourself the importance you deserve.
Nobody, whether an ageing saint, or the supreme commander of this nation, can take that away from you. Don’t get bullied by people.
Everybody needs to rebel some day: be it my father, or Beatrice.
PS. Oh! I dreamt of Doctor. I thought of recording it, something Freud would passionately do, but then I forgot most of it. I am thinking of recording and interpreting my dreams. As a hobby, it’s far more thrilling than fighting hypocrites on social media.