Moonlight

I have always failed to comprehend the popular conception of the ideal setting. Let me try to describe it by simply stating the facts, devoid of unnecessary decorative adjectives that normally tend to unfairly prejudice the average reader's mind; effectively presenting a nice, good looking, readymade opinion to him. A night sky, sprinkled with tiny stars and a full moon. A solitary bench under a solitary tree, a few feet away from the cliff. The only sound for miles around coming from the sea below.

So, I asked her, "What do you think it is?"

"What do you mean, 'what'?"

"I mean, look at it. Around you, that is, why do they have to bring this up everywhere. The supposedly idyllic environment. Its been all over the movies and the stories, prose and poetries."
"Tch". She interjected, "Stop rhyming, you know I hate that."
"See. That's exactly what I'm saying. In this situation, you're supposed to be all romantic and fall for every silly and foolish thing I say. Here, even a suicidal threat, like jumping off this cliff is supposed to be romantic. At least, that's what we've been told. Instead, look at the truth. The absurdity of it all. You're irritated. I'm in one my against-everything moods and romance is the last thing we can think of; the stars, the sky and the sea are the last things I can appreciate. I mean, look at the moon. A plain white, circular disc. Couldn't it come in a more interesting shape or colour?"

I could see she wanted to scream. But, it was just too quiet to make a scene. So she grit her teeth and said, "Don't try to pin this on me as usual. I don't get irritated. You get me irritated. And stop all the lecturing, I can't stand it. And the only mood you have, is the against-everything mood."
"I'm trying to have a conversation here. Is that all you can say? What do you think?"

She blew up like a bottle of cheap perfume in a campfire. "I think you're just nuts. I think you're a little dysfunctional upstairs. And as for your opinion, I think the entire thought is pointless. Tell me something. Do you really think you're making a difference? Do you think you're a renegade? Do you think that's cool? What are you rebelling against? Everything and everyone? I'll tell you what I think. You rebel against nothing and no one. You don't even know what you're rebelling against. In fact, all you think and all you say is just a lot of hot air that looks decent but holds absolutely no value to what we, we as in me and every other living person might deem as life. Fine, so the only thoughts and opinions we have are what is driven into us by society, history and historians. We started the fire of lies and deceit and hypocrisy and now we're feeding it, fuelling it. Let us assume that all the great so called truths that you have been propogating all your life is indeed the absolute truth. But I want to know, what goddamned difference does it make?"

"But,..." I thought I should cut in here. If only for argument's sake.

And she went on, "Aren't you going to go to work tomorrow? Aren't you going to collaborate with other hypocritical mortals that live and breathe through a blindfold and a smokescreen? Aren't you going to smile at their dumbness, revel in their joys, work for their glories, go to their birthday parties and wish them for anniversaries of publicly perfect but privately failed marriages? Tell me, doesn't that make you a hypocrite? So, when your entire philosophy never comes to fruition and doesn't effect a change upon your own behaviour, what bleeding difference do you think it makes to me? Me, or to anyone else who nods to your umpteen monologues, or to anyone else who is blissfully ignorant of the absolute truths that you come up with time and again? And you know what, I've had enough of it all. I want to be happy, I want to be with someone who is happy. At the very least, I want to be with someone who can be happy."

And she took her car keys and marched off to her car. I thought of asking her if this means our dinner plans were cancelled, but I decided that it wasn't the smartest thing to do at the moment.
Well, I was pretty stunned. The girl spoke more in those five minutes than in the years during which I knew her. And I like it this way. I like it when people are subjected to extreme emotions; joy, desperation or anger. Those are the only times, they really speak their mind. Unless a person is below 4 years of age that is, and not yet naturally trained in the art of conditioned responses.

Anyway.... I was at 'But..'. But, I was going to say, the point I'm trying to make here is propaganda. Yes, the same propaganda used by various countries, Nazi Germany and the US: during world war II with the purpose of recruitment, increasing productivity, confidence and patriotism and preventing leakage of information. The US again: against the Taliban in Afghanistan, against Saddam Hussein in Iraq and now against the Al-Qaeda. By the Soviet Union, for Stalin and Lenin apart from other communist causes. By countries and businessmen, companies and godmen. Through pamphlets, posters and newspapers. Through the radio and the television. And most effectively, through your neighbour next door.

It hits me everytime I see my favourite-est president; not theirs or ours, but the world's own president, Bush Jr. give one of his most charismatic and eloquent appearances at a press conference. You know the speech, we've heard it all. We think about it, talk about it, we even dream about it. The content is etched forever in our minds and stirs the deepest, darkest fears in our hearts. That America is in danger. The war on terror. Terrorists bang out of hell are all over the United States trying to break their will, their courage, our courage, the world's courage. But we shall not yield, we shall be strong and show them that America's will, our will and the world's will cannot be broken. And so on and so forth. Of course, and a convenient God Bless America at the end of it all. Amen to that.

Herman Goering once mentioned (during the Nuremberg trials): "Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country." What hits me is fact and fiction. Hitler's Ministry of Propaganda and Orwell and his 1984's Ministry of Truth. What hits me is the perfect justification for a surprising victory in an election for a surprising candidate for president by a seemingly knowledgeable group of people.

But that's not a really ground breaking thought or philosophy you know. We all know it, it's been written about, it's been spoken about. Hell, it's even been studied. Movies have been made out of it. But that's all we see. The extreme example for the what-if question. What escapes us are all the ingenious, subtle touches that we ignore. Advertisements. Bikini clad women to sell automobiles and motorbikes when they can't ride and can barely drive. Anorexic models to sell designer wear. Let me not even get started on anorexia but would anyone even dream of putting the common, average, overweight, disfigured or even just not-figured man or woman on the ramp? The concept of beauty is the result of the biggest and longest propaganda of man. Why did snow white have to be snow white? Couldn't she have been coal black? If you stood in front of the mirror and asked the million dollar question, who's the fairest of them all, why does it have to show snow white? What does that mean, that she was like a snow-woman made out of sterilized cotton? Or an albino? Thankfully now, and especially thankfully for me, dusky is in, dark is in, even if it is thanks to some really cheesy Mills & Boons novels.

Not getting into pointless details, but all of society's opinion formed supposedly out of free will, be it on success, religion, god, caste, or even my above mentioned prejudice on women not being able to drive is part of an unnatural, vicious cycle of sub-conscious, in-built propaganda. One person's prejudice influencing ten of his friends and two of his children is enough for the spontaneous combustion of the phenomenon that ravages down generations; with each generation feeding the fire until it consumes society. Propaganda that fuels growing prejudice that in turn again fuels propaganda. Hand in hand, ensuring that people form forced opinions apparently, out of free will. Some opinions just went on ringing in our ears over the centuries, became embedded in our genetic make-up, subsequently becoming more than just opinion; a way of life, a fact, the truth.

You know, but she's right. She's always right. Tomorrow morning, I will go to work. To be successful. To someday, drive a sedan into a huge, horrific looking, distasteful bungalow. I will indulge in their hypocrisies, thereby accepting it myself. Revelations don't fill your stomach, they don't bring joy, they don't mean that you won't ride in the best of cars or superbikes. They don't mean that you won't ogle at slim, skimpily clad women on FTV or watch romantic movies with half an hour long dialogues between the protagonists sitting on a solitary bench under a solitary tree on a cliff, under a sky adorned by a full moon and twinkling stars. Revelations don't bring change, they bring peace. Everytime I indulge in any of the aforementioned, I know why I'm doing it. It maybe to satisfy social obligations, or to satisfy my very own cravings. But, I know why. In doing so, I may be hypocritical or I may be genuine. But I know. The knowledge that a country, an individual or the society may force an action upon me, but they cannot force an opinion. True freedom after all, lies within ourselves, in our minds. And that knowledge gives me my peace, for now.

I wish I could explain that to her. I wish she'd understand.