Identity - stereotyping the culprit

The space to share publicly every little aspect of our lives is one thing; for random people to host a discussion around it, speculate and draw conclusions, is quite another matter.

There was this young mother from India whose post went viral on Facebook sometime recently. All she did was to publicly acknowledge her son's effort and talents, and say she is extremely proud of him.

Something so basic - such as a mother congratulating her son for having done his best in high school academics (although many would disregard 60% as an achievement) - an act that any mummy would do naturally, can become talk in 'newsworthy' circles, caused me to frown. How we are all into stereotypes! And, why could we have become this way?

IDENTITY is the culprit - I rationalise. Bear with me while I try and explain how this could be.

We are conceived: they call us a 'fetus'.
We are born: they say we are 'boy' or 'girl'.
Then they add colour - dark, brown, fair, and some other shades I'm sure;
They give you a name.
And somewhere hidden (you don't know it yet) is a caste and religion;
A community has branded you, owns you - even before you know them.
As we grow: they say, you are pretty / beautiful / ok-looking / (don't know if they even say 'ugly');
Then they show you what to wear, how to dress, what colours suit you.
What to eat and drink, where to sleep, how to walk and talk;
Every aspect of YOUR life they frame and re-frame for you,
All in the name of preparing you for the 'world outside'.
In the end: you are what they want to see in you, what they decide you should be;
You are now 'standardised' 'labelled' 'conditioned' (take all or pick) - you seem to know who you are.
The answer to the question: What are you - comes so easily, naturally even!
You could never realise how your 'identity' has been built from scratch, even before you were a fetus...
You think you know you.
Purpose achieved. You are now 'defined' as belonging to society. You have an IDENTITY.
You were it on your sleeve, willingly most of your life;
Not to blame, you don't know better.
Then one fine day: a new dawn perhaps - and you awaken to the question:
'Who am I?' really.

I suppose one could/would argue that I'm over-thinking, and that there is no other way because that how the world works, and people need to fit in, be part of the system, know who they are and what they come from, etc, etc.

Sadly this is true.

I don't have an alternate pathway to all of the above - of course not. But I have come to realise that all this 'fabric' we use does not serve a better purpose, let alone meet the larger good - except to divide, and foster comparison, then build unhealthy competition, hasten to form a hate that manifests in ways shocking us as humans, and finally leading us to search our hearts - where does this all come from!? Nothing is as it seems, isn't it.

My seventh heaven!

Roughly every five minutes I would hear a familiar roaring noise surround me. Large shadows of aeroplane after aeroplane covered the city’s vegetation. I watched as the aircraft’s shadow brought a swift, moving shade -- respite from the blazing summer sun for those trees, I thought. The seventh floor does offer an interesting perspective!

Kathri maasum in India -- the hottest days of the year according to the Hindu calendar has passed. The 14-day Agni Nakshatram (the worst of Summer) is believed to be over now. Temperatures have dropped a wee bit, but not enough to say: 'no sweat'! 

The seventh floor of a public library has been my refuge for the Spring-Summer months. I'm perched on a corner chair watching the winged-shadows move like floating clouds. The trees that shield us from harsh sunlight have a chance to receive some shade, it seems. 

It couldn’t have been by chance that Kabbalah regard the Seventh Heaven as the highest of heavens, I'm sure. God is most exalted here -- it is believed -- and angels dwell. It is THE place to be peaceful, and think, then write – the ultimate heaven for doctorate pursuers.

I could have chosen any floor -- entry to the eighth is disallowed -- I settled with the seventh -- among historians, geographers and biographers. I spend hours (up to ten some days), in the rarest of company, besides a glass window that overlooks a grand part of Madras city.   

It never even crossed my mind to enter the first and second heavens – the first is always the most crowded and gloomy, and the second ‘heaven’ is supposed to have ‘fire, snow and ice ready for the day of divine ordinance’ -- so, it's kind of crampy really. 

Tried the third and the forth for a day each -- they host ‘armies’ of subjects that complicate the ‘spirit’. The incident of a zombie-like character seated opposite me at the fourth-heaven study table was persuasive experience -- enough to consider moving to the higher heavens rather quickly! Simply skipped the fifth heaven; peeped through the glass doors of the sixth just once -- there were ‘angels’ and they were (noisy) busy -- going about their business not really caring how it affected other heaven seekers. 

So, seventh it was -- here is the ‘great glory’ -- far above all heavens. The Keys to Kaballah #librarylife here I’ve found!