Active and Passive voices
Does anyone really care anymore?
I do.
But does anyone care about the fact that I care?
No.
Do I care about the issue of no one caring about the fact that I care.
I don’t. Maybe I should.
Let me elaborate.
Saturday evening amma, appa and yours truly decided to board the bus home from Aunt’s home rather than spend 15 bucks on that useless auto rickshaw (Don't ask me why but end-of-month economics are no longer micro or macro. They just exist). Appa decided to board through the back entrance while my mom and I went to the front entrance of the bus. Amma had just managed to get on to the first step when the driver decided it was time to ‘do the locomotion’. I started banging the bus from the road while still trying to run with it (It is a cryptic clue to the mentally challenged bus-driver used in Timbuktu as against your initial thought that I am doing a panic act). Amma did her best to scream aloud. Finally the driver relented, stopped for a jiffy(which is still not a second). I boarded the bus while my mother regained not just her balance but also her lost temper.
One false move from my mother or from me, and I don’t know if I would be here penning this blog at all. What struck me as odd in this entire racket was that the crowd seated inside the bus didn’t so much as whisper anything to that erratic driver. They could see my mother trying to find a foothold, they could hear me screaming for the driver to stop but they just remained rooted to their spot.
What makes us who we are? Why have we turned so passive? How does asking the bus driver to stop be construed as 'going out of your way'? Or am I missing a clue here?
“It is not the action that determines our happiness but our reaction to that action”.
Going by this adage, should I actively scream for more response or remain passively silent?
I do.
But does anyone care about the fact that I care?
No.
Do I care about the issue of no one caring about the fact that I care.
I don’t. Maybe I should.
Let me elaborate.
Saturday evening amma, appa and yours truly decided to board the bus home from Aunt’s home rather than spend 15 bucks on that useless auto rickshaw (Don't ask me why but end-of-month economics are no longer micro or macro. They just exist). Appa decided to board through the back entrance while my mom and I went to the front entrance of the bus. Amma had just managed to get on to the first step when the driver decided it was time to ‘do the locomotion’. I started banging the bus from the road while still trying to run with it (It is a cryptic clue to the mentally challenged bus-driver used in Timbuktu as against your initial thought that I am doing a panic act). Amma did her best to scream aloud. Finally the driver relented, stopped for a jiffy(which is still not a second). I boarded the bus while my mother regained not just her balance but also her lost temper.
One false move from my mother or from me, and I don’t know if I would be here penning this blog at all. What struck me as odd in this entire racket was that the crowd seated inside the bus didn’t so much as whisper anything to that erratic driver. They could see my mother trying to find a foothold, they could hear me screaming for the driver to stop but they just remained rooted to their spot.
What makes us who we are? Why have we turned so passive? How does asking the bus driver to stop be construed as 'going out of your way'? Or am I missing a clue here?
“It is not the action that determines our happiness but our reaction to that action”.
Going by this adage, should I actively scream for more response or remain passively silent?
posted by Kumari at 4:35 AM
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