The Summer of Discontent
Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening(1944), Salvador Dali.
Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum, Madrid.
©Salvador Dalí, Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.
Is this universal? Everywhere around me I see structures crumbling, people buckling, and things being not-so-even. I must admit that some of this is of course of my own doing. I sense my world out of synchrony and my structures prone to questioning. But it is, not just I. It is, in a manner of speaking, a maladroit world.
Innocent children die in misplaced gunfire, ships run aground on urban waters, and Federer has not been in the Wimbledon finals. The Hazare-ness of the world seems to have capitulated. Now he fasts, now he doesn't. Television channels are full of politicians and spin doctors who yell when they should talk. Ram Gopal Verma wants to sign Maria Susairaj. Amitabh Bachchan thinks flowery shirts are cool.
The falcon certainly cannot see the falconer.
And yes, there are, of course other things to see. But I don't see them today. Today is my token fast avoiding all things lovely and beautiful. Because you cannot compel me to smile and make it all go away. Because I believe that discontent is powerful.
So let me just make a tentative suggestion. That for this week, if you happen to be among those I see around me, tearing their hair apart, and mulling over the incomprehensibility of it all, then just for this one week, hold onto your discontent. Spy it from afar, approach it gingerly, and touch it. And tell me about it. This is the week of your discontent, and mine.