The hunt is on.
It is slowly very slowly dawning upon my numb brain deadened by the debris of decades and frozen from a sudden and inexplicable turn in my otherwise serene life that was like any other woman similarly placed ,that i have become a bone of contention in a world where dog eats dogs [politics]
The most bizarre and cruel form of interrogation, the second shock life has dealt me after the first one 5 years back, that would ever rankle the conscience , if it is to be found, amongst those who choose and are chosen to lead us , for considerable time to come and would be a dark stain on one , considered widely as suave and sophisticated , elicited an confession , that is deemed as true indication of my character and the reason behind everyone's inability and comprehension to shepherd me into ,this or that group with clear ideological schism's.
The truth is that i didn't know it was a interrogation ,till my brother observed that i seemed to be driven ,and was totally in dark as to for what it was being conducted.Yet Charlie extracted what ever he was ordered to.
My sub conscious was bared for all to see and make note of.That i was and am an incorrigible rebel.So i will never fit into any strict political idealogies.
Did it end there? My nasty brush with deadly politicians?No. It continues . It is coaching time now.In a similar fashion, cloak and dagger ,nothing straight nothing above board. How i should observe purdah,even in my bedroom! [ like as if i was a bar maid before],etiquette's [ like as if i have the morals of an alley cat] ,socialise[ like as i never attended a marriage or a funeral before Higgins took over] befitting a dumb doll , also a queen of sorts!Charlie's slip shod attempts to civilise me like as if i am wild creature or one of those exotic tribals of the Andamans makes me laugh, often as well as those deliberate attempts to mould me in a particular way---as a 'secular neta' and blunt my 'supposedly' extreme right wing leanings?
The game is on. The rush of adrenalin of the 'hunt' every man revels and takes delight till the quarry is squared , caught and trapped.An instinct as old as time.
Why me ? When the scene is reef with candidates of better abilities and qualities to credit and are wholly willing to be thus snared whether to embellish the sinking ship or the rising star, more so by the former.
I suppose the hunt gets lively and wild when the prey is running for its life.
An aura of authority and the glow that excessive attention [ which is cunningly contrived to seem attentive but is actually highly intrusive, de humanising, obnoxious, unpleasant and unethical as well as illegal] bestows on one is my current signature. A carefully crafted one. That it is nothing but an unnatural and artificial retrieval of lost youth , of smooth skin and light steps ,as the remarks of my son who on seeing me after an absence of 2 months or so in harsh daylight, that my hair had all but turned white , testifies sorely and surely the immense pressure and duress of it all, on me. i am unable to relish this duplicity , an illusion and also shudder if it is to be the precursor to what might be in the cards, of those who are so assiduosly dealing it.
It just doesn't feel like me.
The most bizarre and cruel form of interrogation, the second shock life has dealt me after the first one 5 years back, that would ever rankle the conscience , if it is to be found, amongst those who choose and are chosen to lead us , for considerable time to come and would be a dark stain on one , considered widely as suave and sophisticated , elicited an confession , that is deemed as true indication of my character and the reason behind everyone's inability and comprehension to shepherd me into ,this or that group with clear ideological schism's.
The truth is that i didn't know it was a interrogation ,till my brother observed that i seemed to be driven ,and was totally in dark as to for what it was being conducted.Yet Charlie extracted what ever he was ordered to.
My sub conscious was bared for all to see and make note of.That i was and am an incorrigible rebel.So i will never fit into any strict political idealogies.
Did it end there? My nasty brush with deadly politicians?No. It continues . It is coaching time now.In a similar fashion, cloak and dagger ,nothing straight nothing above board. How i should observe purdah,even in my bedroom! [ like as if i was a bar maid before],etiquette's [ like as if i have the morals of an alley cat] ,socialise[ like as i never attended a marriage or a funeral before Higgins took over] befitting a dumb doll , also a queen of sorts!Charlie's slip shod attempts to civilise me like as if i am wild creature or one of those exotic tribals of the Andamans makes me laugh, often as well as those deliberate attempts to mould me in a particular way---as a 'secular neta' and blunt my 'supposedly' extreme right wing leanings?
The game is on. The rush of adrenalin of the 'hunt' every man revels and takes delight till the quarry is squared , caught and trapped.An instinct as old as time.
Why me ? When the scene is reef with candidates of better abilities and qualities to credit and are wholly willing to be thus snared whether to embellish the sinking ship or the rising star, more so by the former.
I suppose the hunt gets lively and wild when the prey is running for its life.
An aura of authority and the glow that excessive attention [ which is cunningly contrived to seem attentive but is actually highly intrusive, de humanising, obnoxious, unpleasant and unethical as well as illegal] bestows on one is my current signature. A carefully crafted one. That it is nothing but an unnatural and artificial retrieval of lost youth , of smooth skin and light steps ,as the remarks of my son who on seeing me after an absence of 2 months or so in harsh daylight, that my hair had all but turned white , testifies sorely and surely the immense pressure and duress of it all, on me. i am unable to relish this duplicity , an illusion and also shudder if it is to be the precursor to what might be in the cards, of those who are so assiduosly dealing it.
It just doesn't feel like me.
posted by K.C. Sujata at
4:34 AM
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