Would you prefer if people only talked about the necessary bits, leaving any emotion out of it? Regardless of your answer, it is most effective communication method I know. Things could be very straightforward and clear, removing any cloud of doubt in the message. This combined with logical reasoning might the best ever form of communication we are capable of. Does this mean a perfect human is one without emotions? Doesn’t it mean we will achieve greater efficiency and success with it?
But it also means we lose apathy right? What new heighs are we going climb without it? Why are we climbing anyways? Why not just enjoy it from the valley? This reminds me of Equilibrium. Nice Movie. Would recommend.
I am one of those who seek the meaning of life. People believe in different things. Some strive for eternal paradise, some for peace and some for whatever niceties they can get before and after death. Death was always interesting for me. Maybe because dearest people died in front of me. Did they have something to tell me, after they were dead? Or were they just, dead? I don’t know. What I know is that there isn’t much for me the grand scheme of things. There is probably no purpose to my life. There is (probably) nothing that awaits me after death. It is said that the lifetime of a universe is the time of breath cycle of Brahma, and we are so in-significant that the next universe will be created right after.
I think anything eternal will eventually become boring. I love to drive, but driving forever is a punishment. Same for my favourite snack/game/movie/paradise. Maybe eternal hell will be boring as well
Night is special for me. Earth (I never been outside so can’t talk about other planets) is so much more enjoyable without the light of sun. Everything comes to life at night. There is a certain beauty to the darkness that it becomes so possessive at times.
Fun fact: I was nicknamed owl in high school
Northern Kerala (Malabar) has a special festival that happens mostly in winter. It is called sevens football tournaments. Trust me, we love football. But we also love to butcher it. If you know football, you know it is (officially) played with 11 players on each team. But we play it with 7 on each. Matches are extremely physical, and are played in a mud pitch. Venues are usually wide fields (we have a lot of paddy fields) or school grounds. They may not have the necessary infrastructure, hence everything is built temporarily, using arecanut tree, including the gallery. The atmosphere is usually electric, sometimes violent, and rarely chaotic.
It has been a while since I went to one of these events. Past week, me and a friend very accidentally got into one. We were out for our usual evening walk, and saw fireworks from distance. I knew about the event and we decided to check it out. By the team we reached there, it was already half time. I was not really interested in getting in. Mostly because I unknowingly developed this football elitism, in which only higher tier (read English Premier League) football is considered actual. All other forms are seen as disgraces. But as you may have imagined, we finally got in. This happened because of two things
|Photo from Google. I was too immersed to click a picture|
I did not know which teams were playing, or at what time this will end. Any of decision is immediately followed by a regret check. I don’t regret any of it, but sometimes make changes to catch up. In this case, I felt like I am alone in a crowd (friend beside me), and it wouldn’t be false to say I considered leaving. After a while though, I found myself cheering both teams. I cussed at both teams, and found home in both teams. These tournaments import a lot of manpower from african continent. They don’t understand the local language, nor does locals understand them. But in the heat of the moment, everybody understand everybody else. I could read their happiness, curses, antics and whatnot without any words. I know they were not teaching quantum physics in that football field, but I felt emotions are as powerful as words.
Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways. - Sigmund Freud
Kathakali (katha: story, kali: play) is a classical dance form native to (Southern) Kerala. It is boring, not at all engaging and you need to have a lot of knowledge to even understand what is going on. The pace is usually extremely slow and it takes forever to finish.
I watched kathakali before, but as part of school and college art festivals. But that is not why we (or me) attend such events. The blood brooding youth does not usually show interest in such art. Long story short, even though it is very popular in my state, I had no idea what it actually is.
Me and friend were out for some shopping. And while passing a temple, we heard some music. On the way back, curious to know what was happening there, we went in. Unsurprisingly, it was kathakali. Now you know I don’t like it, but decided to give it a try. We spent about 2 hours there, and realized
Third point must be obvious. You have to have some knowledge about the story that is being presented. I don’t have any such knowledge, and didn’t understand a thing.
Kathakali actors don’t speak (the speak a sign language tbf), they only act. There is supposed to be a song in background iirc, but wasn’t that case here. I might be wrong tho. Maybe we need words to effectively communicate
|Sorry for poor quality, had to zoom in with a mobile camera|
I was more invested in the music, acting and atmosphere. It was all dark except for a few lamps in the building. There was a traditional fire lamp in front of the stage, and a few other lamps in the stage. It all means, everything other than the stage/actor was grayed out. So you could really notice all the expressions and emotions on his face, and the accompanying music amplified it the next level. Every bit of that music transferred his emotions straight into my heart. I could feel the anger, panic and ultimately regret. It made me so immersed that I could visualise the scene myself (not knowing the story became a boon, because I now have the freedom to make up my own). It made me think if sound/atmosphere actually contribute to effective communications. My answer would be yes, it does. Interestingly, this came into mind.
You might know Kantara. It tells the story of a remote village and their traditions. I’m not a movie reviewer so I can’t entertain you with all the technicalities. The movie did not impress me much, except the rare occasions in which the demigod appears. I am not a believer, so I won’t talk about god and stuff. What made it interesting is the background score. It was so chilling and engaging that it conveyed the message pretty well. But in the end, it is a movie and I’m watching it in air conditioned cinema theater.
Watching kathakali though, is a very similar very different experience. Everything felt hyper realistic, nerve chilling and engaging. Our ability to communicate (universally) with slighter movements of muscles is fascinating. I would recommend you to try any of these arts. There are plenty in our great nation.
These events (with numerous others) taught me that we are, in the end, simply live to live. It is hard to survive in a world where competition is in it’s extreme. We often forget to enjoy the things around us. We miss the opportunity to actually live instead of being in a rat race. I still don’t know the purpose of life, but I now know there are places to go and things to do, starting from home. Maybe we don’t need to be all logical. Some things don’t make sense at all, but they still make you happy (how do you define happiness?). Maybe words are not the basis of communication. Instead they could be tip of this iceberg. With emotions deep under.
‘Which is more important,’ asked Big Panda, ‘the journey or the destination?’ ‘The company,’ said Tiny Dragon.
Thanks for bearing with me, adios!