[Reader-list] Conflict versus Violence

[khalid jamal]

Dear Zainab,
   
  You are right:
  "Sometimes just a scene gets you to write."
   
  But for the past few months i am realizing that when we see something, it does't just crosses our eye, it also crosses our brain, our conscience and the sensation of what we see, decides what we do next.It takes us away,however momentarily, from what we were thinking,seeing and feeling ...
   
  And if we(or atleast I..) decide to write, it takes me back to the point of "encounter"; i recall the visual, the exact point, the sound, the smell and while this whole process of recalling continues, the new image of what i 'd seen evolves..or shall i say re-evolves..
   
  This becomes the most important point of my writing because at this point i always ask myself," Are you sure this is what you saw or you are exagerrating , missing out some thing or just mixing up many other images that crossed, formed, & deformed in  your mind at that moment..??"
   
  Writing then become a very isolating process.It suddenly opens a lot of doors of thinking..going back into past, coming back, asking a question,trying to answer that question and by the time this happens,a new question pops up with a new answer..
   
  Writing at such moments, becomes a Jihad, a Struggle , in the true sense of the term.. 
   
  But no matter what, there is always a time gap between the two thoughts.Always.
   
  And when i worked in a fast food joint i often wondered,
   
  " What if my manager comes to know abt this gap?"
   
  "...Would he fill it with more work?? Or..."
   
  And my manager comes into the picture... i start working again..the gap gets filled on it own.
   
  Goodluck and keep up the struggle..
   
   
    

   
  zainab at xtdnet.nl wrote:
  Sometimes just a scene gets you to write.

I write 


This evening I was walking past the bus stop to get to home. On the
outsides of Byculla market is a garbage dump. About four to five cows are
always hovering around the dump, getting some grub (just as much as some
urchins hover around the dump for their daily bread and possibly a bit of
butter).

It was about 9 PM. I saw one of the cows upturned. She was on her back,
her four feet crouched onto her stomach. I could not understand what was
happening to her. I wondered whether she was suffering from a terrible
stomachache. She rolled to the sides, then attempted to get up. As she got
up, she tottered on her feet, clamoured, tottered, and then fell sideways.
Another cow, brown in colour, standing by her started to move into the
space left open by the small crowd, looking at the bystanders (many of who
had collected by then out of curiosity and some waiting for their bus to
arrive). The brown cow stared into the crowd, as if asking for help. A man
on a cycle shouted out, ‘pour some water onto her. She is giddy’. He went
on to say how the cows are not fed and made to do a lot of work which is
why this one had gotten giddy. Meanwhile, the cow continued to get up,
totter, and fall. The condition of this cow was pathetic. I am almost
feeling helpless as I write because these futile words are just unable
describe the visual I have witnessed.

Tottered, stood, wavered, tottered, fell.
Tottered, stood, wavered, tottered, clamoured, fell.
Tottered, stood, wavered, tottered, clamoured, stood, fell.

The man on the cycle continued, ‘everyone is standing, staring at her. No
one is coming to her rescue. She may just go mad and hit out at the
crowd.’ All the bystanders were feeling something – some felt pity, some
expressed sympathy, but no one came forward. I got frightened. The word
VIOLENCE rang into my head as I witnessed this all. I wondered when the
cow would go mad and lash out at the crowd. Meanwhile, I almost felt as if
the brown cow was advancing towards me. I quickly decided to move away and
head back home.

(Frightened
Vulnerable
Ashamed
Guilty)


I feel indifferent these days. I walk around the city as if I were numb.
There are times when I get aggressive. I wonder whether I will also feel
giddy, totter, waver, stand and then fall ...


CUT TO BANGALORE

The autorickshaw was standing at the signal of Forum Mall at Koramangala.
A dark girl was selling cotton ear buds. I looked at her as she moved
around. She was as beautiful as a doll. I felt a strong sense of affection
towards her. I decided that if she were to come by me, I will buy the
cotton buds. And she came by me.
Ten rupees, she said.
I brought out the coins from my purse and gave it to her.
Ten rupees, she said.
Ten rupees, I said, counting out the coins to her.
Ten rupees, she said again.
Ten rupees, what the hell, I said to myself, until I quickly realized that
for her, ten rupees meant a ten rupee note. She could not count. She could
not decipher. I fished for a ten rupee note and gave it to her. She smiled
and handed out a packet of ear buds to me.
I went back home that evening and narrated the story to Nick. He looked at
the cotton buds and said to me,
Careful, these are risky. The cotton can just come off and the plastic can
hit your ear drum and cause damage.
As I lay in the bed that night, I wondered how it would feel for the
plastic to hit my ear drum and I go deaf. DEAF! How I wish I were deaf!
Life would perhaps be easier then. I would not be able to listen.
I would not be able to listen to the screams of apathy.
I would not be able to listen to the screeching silences.
I would not be able to listen to things not spoken, but definite.
DEAF, I wish I were.

(Coward
Vulnerable
Fragile
Guilty)

CUT TO BANGALORE PUBLIC TRANSPORT

Where else do you get the flavour of the city but for its public
transport! I started to do a jaunt on the Bangalore buses. The lines of
gender division are clear in here. The front portion of the bus is for the
women, the rear for the men. On my first trip on the BMTC bus, I happened
to get pushed to the rear side when a man, himself squashed, said to me in
Kannada to move ahead because that’s the place for women.

The ladies section was crowded to the core. ‘Solpa solpa,’ ‘little,
little’, they kept saying. Little to me implied space, just a little
space, push a bit, shove a bit, twitch a bit, solpa, solpa, little,
little.

I now equate solpa, solpa to mean space, a little space. And I think
that’s where my city and Bangalore city are positioned today, positioned
at solpa, solpa, a little space – inch, centimeter, millimeter, solpa,
solpa. The city has been a space of conflict, everyone fighting for
territory, space and economic holding. There will definitely be no
situation where there is no conflict. I notice conflict in Bombay’s local
trains and there will always be. Women fight for water at the standposts
and there is conflict but violence happens when access is denied, when the
space, solpa, solpa, becomes difficult to reach to. There is no question
for adjust maadi then. And I guess this is what is happening in our cities
today. The conflict seems to have escalated and is assuming proportions of
violence. The space for ‘adjust maadi’ is getting scarce as we stand on
the edges, the brinks of precarity where violence is absolutely imminent.
A little spark and the next thing I know will be
Tottering, standing, wavering, tottering, falling.

As I write the above words, the transition that I see from conflict to
violence, it will seem like I am talking of a prophetic doom, as if
violence were imminent and the futures of our cities have been already
written. But I must reassert that our futures are not written so
completely. Today I feel angry, apathetic, dejected, pessimistic, but at
every moment, some spaces get carved out, some stories get enacted on the
stage of the urban and the script just gets altered. The drama is
upturned, four feet crouched on the stomach.

THE END.

Claimer: I hereby take responsibility for the above words which may appear
patronizing, emerging out of a sense of guilt, disregarding
anthropological positions of subject, object, practice, induction, etc.
Rubbishing every theory, I call this state of mind, state of being!



Zainab Bawa
Bombay
www.xanga.com/CityBytes
http://crimsonfeet.recut.org/rubrique53.html

_________________________________________
reader-list: an open discussion list on media and the city.
Critiques & Collaborations
To subscribe: send an email to reader-list-request at sarai.net with subscribe in the subject header.
List archive: 



ONE LIFE. ONE SHOT. 

Happiness, Health & Peace, 
Syed Khalid Jamal   

 				
---------------------------------
  Yahoo! India Answers: Share what you know. Learn something new Click here
 Send free SMS to your Friends on Mobile from your Yahoo! Messenger Download now
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: http://mail.sarai.net/pipermail/reader-list/attachments/20060619/badd77ce/attachment.html