MARIA'S BLOG: 'BEING BEST FRIENDS WITH THE ENEMY'
"The souls are (like) an army joined (in the world of spirits) whichever souls knew each other (in that world) are attracted towards each other (in this world) and whichever remained distant and indifferent (there) are disinterested to each other (in this world)."
A friend emailed me this saying by Prophet Mohammad which absolutely fascinated me. I have always wondered why one feels an almost instantaneous attraction to certain strangers in the madding throng of human beings. How people find their "soul-mates" unexpectedly through the most random coincidences.
What would the pre-existence world to be like? Kant rejects the possibility of knowledge regarding metaphysics, asserting that without both understanding and sensibility you cannot have knowledge of the Transcendent. I admit that without sensibility, I find it very difficult to conceive of a metaphysical realm of wandering souls. Even my wildest imagination (read: understanding in Kantian terms) betrays me as my mind, effectively regimented by images from Hollywood ghost flicks, does a hackneyed job of picturing a world that possibly existed before time.
This place was a bleak expanse of space where souls drifted towards and away from each other. These peripatetic "entities" searched for similar souls, in order to communicate, to commune, to find missing parts of themselves in other spirits. And it was in this space- bereft of borders and demarcations that my lost soul met Sushmita Bose. Her liberal dispensation was reflected in her amorphous shape. Unfettered by a rigid "form", she appeared a tad more ethereal than the rest of the souls. She looked at me. My capricious spirit was drawn to her. I guess I figured she was a bit crazy like me....
However, I met Ms. Bose on this planet under radically different circumstances. I was introduced to her by my line manager (LM) on her first day at work in Khaleej Times (KT), which was roughly three days after I had started working there. She was a petite Indian, dressed in black capri pants and a casual oversized t-shirt. "Hi, I am Sushmita. I just came from the airport!" she said confidently, as she shook my hand.
A couple of days later, I found her chatting with my LM in the pantry. As I poured water in a Styrofoam cup, I noticed her smiling at me. I responded with a courteous smile but soon observed that she was checking me out. Discomfited by her scrutiny, I awkwardly gulped down the water in one sip and scurried away from the pantry. I jumped to the conclusion that the new Features Editor of KT had a serious staring problem.
A day or two later, I found Ms. Bose in the pantry again. She appeared comfortable and garrulous in the company of old-time Indian employees of Khaleej Times. Wow, these Indians seem to flock together... she just came and look she has fitted in with them, I thought. I was hit by an odd pang of loneliness. Although there were many Pakistanis in the office, I could not imagine hanging out with even one of them. They were just not my type.
A few weeks passed and I capitulated to my innate laziness by deciding to come to office by noon instead of coming early in the morning as I initially did. The company car would pick me up from my apartment in Bur Dubai by 11 a.m. along with Ms. Bose, who was temporarily lodging at Ramada Hotel in the vicinity. During our daily journey through the traffic-clogged Sheikh Zayed Road to our office in the dusty locale of Al-Quoz, we chatted about various topics: politics, Indo-Pak rivalry, Dubai, UAE, work, past professions, our lives back home etc. Yet I always hesitated in expressing myself with candour. Convinced that Sushmita had much more in common with her fellow countrymen/women, I was sure that she did not want to genuinely befriend me. I thought that for her, an Indian, I would always be the "other" -- a girl from the wrong neighbourhood, who was good for random chit-chat but not worth getting close to.
But my perception soon changed. One day, during our routine car journey to work, we happened to talk about India's development. "Well at least your country has done better than mine! It is developing quite fast," I commented cautiously. But to my surprise, she completely bulldozed over the premature pillar of political correctness that I had just erected in our nascent friendship. "What nonsense! This India Shining is such a myth. India's development has benefited only a minority," she strongly asserted. She went on to passionately speak about the contradictions of economic development in her country while I listened intently. So she was not the I-love-my-Incredible-India, Pakistan-is-my-personal-enemy and Kashmir-is-ours-Jai-Hind sort, I thought with relief. In fact, she was the antithesis of it. She was perspicacious and intelligent; with an incisive wit and a great capacity for critical self-reflection.
Later on, I realized that Ms. Bose was as further away from political correctness as one could be. One day after failing to communicate properly with a Malayali designer at work, I turned to her to vent my frustration. "They don't know English and their language is so strange!" I whined. But I regretted saying those words the second I blurted them out. After all Sushmita, too, was an Indian. I feared that she would dislike the failure to culturally cope up with her compatriots. But again, she surprised me. "Yes their language is quite a tongue twister!" she remarked and then babbled some gibberish to mimic the Malayalam language. I laughed, relieved to find out that she was actually a cool person without any hang-ups.
So this was how a strong camaraderie, which barely witnessed a day's break in nine months, was established between a girl from Lahore and a chick from Delhi. This is how two women from opposite sides of the Indo-Pak border, stuck in the lonely city of Dubai without their better halves, mutually sought comfort in gossip, conversation and cinema.
One reason why we clicked so well was because we hated and liked the same people, regardless of their nationality. And we both were indifferent to attempts by fellow countrymen/women to befriend us by using the trite nationality card. She was warned by a certain Indian at our workplace not to "trust Pakis" while a Bangladeshi photographer tried to find common ground with her on the basis of their common Bengali heritage. Similarly, lecherous Pakistani men at work often approached me with the not-so tempting proposition of a ‘friendship'.
As we eschewed membership in ad-hoc national and ethnic fraternities/sororities at work, we both realized something deeply important: nationality is irrelevant in determining the potential for a meaningful friendship. The horizon of genuine friendship lies far beyond a few common denominators of nationality, skin colour, language and ethnicity.
Nevertheless, I am utterly averse to the rather contrived notion that Indians and Pakistanis "are the same people" who were separated by evil ploys of native politicians in collusion with the British decades ago. I and Sushmita are not the same people; we are in fact radically different individuals coming from distinct worlds. But the disparity between our backgrounds has given us the opportunity to learn, adopt and adapt to each other's cultural baggage. She introduced me to Bengali cinema and I got her hooked onto Pakistani food. She educated me on journalism in Delhi and I enlightened her on political Islam in Pakistan.
Plus, the institution of friendship -- which is supposed to make us evolve into more open, tolerant individuals -- would be quite meaningless if it was bereft of debate and discussion. Hence, I feel that the repartee of arguments and counter-arguments that we engage in while shopping for groceries at Spinneys, dodging fast cars on Mankhool road and "chilling out" over weekends have helped us evolve into more considerate human beings. Ms Bose in many ways is like Nietzsche's dream-child; she is liberal, agnostic and westernized. I, on the other hand, have a bit of everything - liberalism, conservatism, religiosity -- in me. Our ideas clash, ever so often, but our minds have always been receptive to divergent views. And therefore we have found a middle-ground of sorts; she often, albeit sheepishly, asks me pray for her while I have become far less judgmental than I used to be.
Back at home in Pakistan, India possesses the paradoxical status of the enemy state as well as the culturally similar neighbour. Ironically enough, in the neutral multi-cultural setting of Dubai, Sushmita, my purported Indian "enemy" lives only two buildings away from me! And yet, my "neighbor-foe" is also my best friend. The contradiction inherent in these multiple categories -- this simultaneous dynamic of negative and positive, of repulsion and attraction -- shows that national and religious classifications based on difference fail to capture the complexity of human relationships.
So now I feel the need to actively assert my character as an individual in a global environment, instead of merely relying on religious and national denominations to define myself. Yes, I am a Pakistan and a Muslim. But I am also an avid cheese-cake lover; I believe that my obsession with soft mounds of cream cheese layered on crisp biscuit crust constitutes an integral part of my personality. And for me, Sushmita is an Indian, an agnostic and a Woody Allen movie fan. Our views on religion collide head-on, and our national identities seemingly contradict. Nevertheless, my cheese-cake mania and her love for Woody Allen movies gel seamlessly together. (Toss in two cups of Darjeeling tea and the combination is surely a sinful treat!)
And this is how I and Sushmita connect as individuals; as people who like Hollywood classics and calorific sweets. And as people who miss home and try to recreate it together in Dubai. And although it seems too soon for our friendship to be relegated to the virtual world of e-mail and chat messages, I have a strange gut feeling that we will soon meet again...
She prepared to exit the world of souls. I asked her where she was going.
"To the other place," she replied.
"Will I ever see you again?" I asked her in a dejected tone.
She smiled mysteriously.
"We will meet again in the other world. But it will be different from this one; it will be a fragmented world. There will be territories, borders and partitions. And other people will try to determine who we are and where we go..but you and I will still find each other just like we did in this place.."
After uttering those words, she vanished.
"The souls are (like) an army joined (in the world of spirits) whichever souls knew each other (in that world) are attracted towards each other (in this world) and whichever remained distant and indifferent (there) are disinterested to each other (in this world)."
A friend emailed me this saying by Prophet Mohammad which absolutely fascinated me. I have always wondered why one feels an almost instantaneous attraction to certain strangers in the madding throng of human beings. How people find their "soul-mates" unexpectedly through the most random coincidences.
What would the pre-existence world to be like? Kant rejects the possibility of knowledge regarding metaphysics, asserting that without both understanding and sensibility you cannot have knowledge of the Transcendent. I admit that without sensibility, I find it very difficult to conceive of a metaphysical realm of wandering souls. Even my wildest imagination (read: understanding in Kantian terms) betrays me as my mind, effectively regimented by images from Hollywood ghost flicks, does a hackneyed job of picturing a world that possibly existed before time.
This place was a bleak expanse of space where souls drifted towards and away from each other. These peripatetic "entities" searched for similar souls, in order to communicate, to commune, to find missing parts of themselves in other spirits. And it was in this space- bereft of borders and demarcations that my lost soul met Sushmita Bose. Her liberal dispensation was reflected in her amorphous shape. Unfettered by a rigid "form", she appeared a tad more ethereal than the rest of the souls. She looked at me. My capricious spirit was drawn to her. I guess I figured she was a bit crazy like me....
However, I met Ms. Bose on this planet under radically different circumstances. I was introduced to her by my line manager (LM) on her first day at work in Khaleej Times (KT), which was roughly three days after I had started working there. She was a petite Indian, dressed in black capri pants and a casual oversized t-shirt. "Hi, I am Sushmita. I just came from the airport!" she said confidently, as she shook my hand.
A couple of days later, I found her chatting with my LM in the pantry. As I poured water in a Styrofoam cup, I noticed her smiling at me. I responded with a courteous smile but soon observed that she was checking me out. Discomfited by her scrutiny, I awkwardly gulped down the water in one sip and scurried away from the pantry. I jumped to the conclusion that the new Features Editor of KT had a serious staring problem.
A day or two later, I found Ms. Bose in the pantry again. She appeared comfortable and garrulous in the company of old-time Indian employees of Khaleej Times. Wow, these Indians seem to flock together... she just came and look she has fitted in with them, I thought. I was hit by an odd pang of loneliness. Although there were many Pakistanis in the office, I could not imagine hanging out with even one of them. They were just not my type.
A few weeks passed and I capitulated to my innate laziness by deciding to come to office by noon instead of coming early in the morning as I initially did. The company car would pick me up from my apartment in Bur Dubai by 11 a.m. along with Ms. Bose, who was temporarily lodging at Ramada Hotel in the vicinity. During our daily journey through the traffic-clogged Sheikh Zayed Road to our office in the dusty locale of Al-Quoz, we chatted about various topics: politics, Indo-Pak rivalry, Dubai, UAE, work, past professions, our lives back home etc. Yet I always hesitated in expressing myself with candour. Convinced that Sushmita had much more in common with her fellow countrymen/women, I was sure that she did not want to genuinely befriend me. I thought that for her, an Indian, I would always be the "other" -- a girl from the wrong neighbourhood, who was good for random chit-chat but not worth getting close to.
But my perception soon changed. One day, during our routine car journey to work, we happened to talk about India's development. "Well at least your country has done better than mine! It is developing quite fast," I commented cautiously. But to my surprise, she completely bulldozed over the premature pillar of political correctness that I had just erected in our nascent friendship. "What nonsense! This India Shining is such a myth. India's development has benefited only a minority," she strongly asserted. She went on to passionately speak about the contradictions of economic development in her country while I listened intently. So she was not the I-love-my-Incredible-India, Pakistan-is-my-personal-enemy and Kashmir-is-ours-Jai-Hind sort, I thought with relief. In fact, she was the antithesis of it. She was perspicacious and intelligent; with an incisive wit and a great capacity for critical self-reflection.
Later on, I realized that Ms. Bose was as further away from political correctness as one could be. One day after failing to communicate properly with a Malayali designer at work, I turned to her to vent my frustration. "They don't know English and their language is so strange!" I whined. But I regretted saying those words the second I blurted them out. After all Sushmita, too, was an Indian. I feared that she would dislike the failure to culturally cope up with her compatriots. But again, she surprised me. "Yes their language is quite a tongue twister!" she remarked and then babbled some gibberish to mimic the Malayalam language. I laughed, relieved to find out that she was actually a cool person without any hang-ups.
So this was how a strong camaraderie, which barely witnessed a day's break in nine months, was established between a girl from Lahore and a chick from Delhi. This is how two women from opposite sides of the Indo-Pak border, stuck in the lonely city of Dubai without their better halves, mutually sought comfort in gossip, conversation and cinema.
One reason why we clicked so well was because we hated and liked the same people, regardless of their nationality. And we both were indifferent to attempts by fellow countrymen/women to befriend us by using the trite nationality card. She was warned by a certain Indian at our workplace not to "trust Pakis" while a Bangladeshi photographer tried to find common ground with her on the basis of their common Bengali heritage. Similarly, lecherous Pakistani men at work often approached me with the not-so tempting proposition of a ‘friendship'.
As we eschewed membership in ad-hoc national and ethnic fraternities/sororities at work, we both realized something deeply important: nationality is irrelevant in determining the potential for a meaningful friendship. The horizon of genuine friendship lies far beyond a few common denominators of nationality, skin colour, language and ethnicity.
Nevertheless, I am utterly averse to the rather contrived notion that Indians and Pakistanis "are the same people" who were separated by evil ploys of native politicians in collusion with the British decades ago. I and Sushmita are not the same people; we are in fact radically different individuals coming from distinct worlds. But the disparity between our backgrounds has given us the opportunity to learn, adopt and adapt to each other's cultural baggage. She introduced me to Bengali cinema and I got her hooked onto Pakistani food. She educated me on journalism in Delhi and I enlightened her on political Islam in Pakistan.
Plus, the institution of friendship -- which is supposed to make us evolve into more open, tolerant individuals -- would be quite meaningless if it was bereft of debate and discussion. Hence, I feel that the repartee of arguments and counter-arguments that we engage in while shopping for groceries at Spinneys, dodging fast cars on Mankhool road and "chilling out" over weekends have helped us evolve into more considerate human beings. Ms Bose in many ways is like Nietzsche's dream-child; she is liberal, agnostic and westernized. I, on the other hand, have a bit of everything - liberalism, conservatism, religiosity -- in me. Our ideas clash, ever so often, but our minds have always been receptive to divergent views. And therefore we have found a middle-ground of sorts; she often, albeit sheepishly, asks me pray for her while I have become far less judgmental than I used to be.
Back at home in Pakistan, India possesses the paradoxical status of the enemy state as well as the culturally similar neighbour. Ironically enough, in the neutral multi-cultural setting of Dubai, Sushmita, my purported Indian "enemy" lives only two buildings away from me! And yet, my "neighbor-foe" is also my best friend. The contradiction inherent in these multiple categories -- this simultaneous dynamic of negative and positive, of repulsion and attraction -- shows that national and religious classifications based on difference fail to capture the complexity of human relationships.
So now I feel the need to actively assert my character as an individual in a global environment, instead of merely relying on religious and national denominations to define myself. Yes, I am a Pakistan and a Muslim. But I am also an avid cheese-cake lover; I believe that my obsession with soft mounds of cream cheese layered on crisp biscuit crust constitutes an integral part of my personality. And for me, Sushmita is an Indian, an agnostic and a Woody Allen movie fan. Our views on religion collide head-on, and our national identities seemingly contradict. Nevertheless, my cheese-cake mania and her love for Woody Allen movies gel seamlessly together. (Toss in two cups of Darjeeling tea and the combination is surely a sinful treat!)
And this is how I and Sushmita connect as individuals; as people who like Hollywood classics and calorific sweets. And as people who miss home and try to recreate it together in Dubai. And although it seems too soon for our friendship to be relegated to the virtual world of e-mail and chat messages, I have a strange gut feeling that we will soon meet again...
She prepared to exit the world of souls. I asked her where she was going.
"To the other place," she replied.
"Will I ever see you again?" I asked her in a dejected tone.
She smiled mysteriously.
"We will meet again in the other world. But it will be different from this one; it will be a fragmented world. There will be territories, borders and partitions. And other people will try to determine who we are and where we go..but you and I will still find each other just like we did in this place.."
After uttering those words, she vanished.
From arvind
From Mayank
From awara
From Sandhya
From Abhishek
From Abhiroop
From Dr.Spook
From ani
From Handsome Brian
From Sandhya
From rk
From Dr.Spook
From Greasy Individual
From decoy
From decoy
From sushmita
From sushmita
From sushmita
From Dr.Spook
From Handsome Brian
From P Rahul Sankruthya
From sushmita
From sushmita
From SoDa
From sushmita
From SoDa
From Mishty
From Rose
From sushmita
From Bheela Wadehra
From SoDa
From SoDa
From decoy77
From sushmita
From Akansha
From ghumakkad
From sushmita
From sushmita
From pawandeep
From pawandeep
From sushmita
From Mayank
From sahil
From SoDa
From Bheela
From sushmita
From K Mathur
From pawandeep
From Simer
From awara
From RDX
From Bheela
From Soham
From Dilbir
From Imran Maqbool
From Jose Joseph