People, Pity and Propriety: Lessons from Alex Garland’s The Beach, The Shark Attacked Chapter.

August 2018

I recently went for a trek with some of my friends. We had to climb this mini-mountain, and it was really cool. But alas, being the first-class klutz that I am, I sprained my ankle while coming down and tore my ligament. To make a long narration short, I’m not going to write about my trek up the mountain, rather what happened afterward.

 

So, post-injury, the first two weeks, I was completely showered and doused with love, affection, and support. I live in a closed gated community, so there were home-cooked meals delivered at my doorstep, friends, and acquaintances coming in to visit and help, I even had my rooms cleaned, laundry is done, grocery shopping and a whole lot of chores completed by the nice people in the community. And like any millennial, I went about raving about it on every social media forum about how cool it is that despite my injury, I received so much love and support and that it’s all about ‘community’ being loved, and organic, etc. And I went raving about how despite my injury and challenges, I was so blessed blah blah blah.

 

You see; however, every happy ending has an ‘ending.’ And Google says it takes six weeks (approx) for a ligament injury to heal, and I was rolling in on week three, and week three sucks and three more weeks awaited me….

 

The thing about a ‘community’ is that they comprised of ‘people’ and people have limitations, people err and well people are people. So, by week three, I was pretty much lonely and wallowing in depression. Three bloody weeks of being an invalid was definitely not cool. The visits gradually stopped, the text messages declined, and even my desperate cry for attention in the form of ‘health updates’ on every WhatsApp group, went largely ignored.

And that’s the thing about people, they will first feel pity for you, and then this evolves into propriety, and eventually, it ceases to exist. And in the end, it's up to us, it's up to me how I choose to be.

 

Do I allow these situations and other people to determine my happiness?

Do I wallow in a pool of self-pity and depression?

Do I swallow my pride and ego and remind myself that ‘other’ people to have their own lives and that I can’t be at the center of the or their universe?

 

Happiness is never about how other people treat you. (is what my therapist told me)

 

You can be grateful when people are kind to you, acknowledge it, and honour them back. But don’t let it determine your happiness, or don’t let it be your only source for happiness.

Expect nothing, and when people ignore you, its ok, you have a million other things to do, don’t depend on ‘attention’ or carnal support or anything exterior to derive your happiness.

 

Happiness is what and how you choose to live your life.

 

For example, a really cool Netflix movie, a cool book, finishing that paper report and giving yourself a pat on the back, planning your travel trips, keeping in touch with ‘other’ friends, encouraging other people, ordering a really good takeaway, things that YOU are in control of and which only YOU are responsible for, not other people.

 

 This recent debacle on my health, which immobilized me, also reminded me of the chapter from Alex Garland’s The Beach, the scene where the two Swedish guys were attacked by sharks. One guy died, and everyone was sad and sympathetic, they conducted a really meaningful funeral, sang a song, did the candlelight vigil. And strived to look after the other guy who survived. At first, people were really supportive, but then those days turned into weeks, and the guy who survived started becoming a nuisance for the people in the community. People went on with their own lives, and he was largely ignored. He wasn’t getting any better and no one had the time to tend to him. Eventually, his cries of pain and plea for help were too much for the community on the beach, and well here’s the gory part, he was silenced.

I know the community here is not as gory as a fictional community on an idyllic fantasy beach in Thailand, but it captures the response and reality and limitations of ‘humans.’

 

Our love is limited and conditional. There is only one out there whose love is unconditional, and well He’s not human.

But what I’m trying to say here is that at the end of the day, if we truly want to be happy, don’t outsource it, don’t depend on others or anyone for anything.

To be truly happy, the onus is on us.

 

As for me, luckily my injury is getting better, I watch a lot of Netflix when I’m not working on my papers and well, there’s about a million other things in life that I can be grateful for, and it starts with… me.

 

Derry and Dimapur

March 2020

Derry Girls is a television series on Netflix that captures the lives of five high school teenagers growing up in Derry (Northern Ireland) during the troubling nineties. It is set against the backdrop of the IRA conflict, bomb threats, military routine check-ups, and political turmoil and violence between the Protestants and the Catholics. There are quite a couple of scenes in the series where the high school teens would be walking back home from school, and the streets would be filled with armed military guards, frisking people, doing their rounds, etc. This show reminded me a lot of my own home town, in Nagaland, and growing up against the backdrop of violence, gun-culture, and political unrest.

Growing up, we Nagas had always heard of the political turmoil in the newspapers and first-hand account from friends and neighbours., be it atrocities committed by the Indian army towards Naga villages post-independence, or witnessing the evolution of the Naga militancy and insurgency movement, which started as a nationalist movement for Independence to now a complete Mafia-type Thug run organization that thrives on extortion and threats. As high school teenagers, growing up in Dimapur, we were not immune to witness the constant flow of military trucks in the highways and main roads, routine check-up, and frisking done by the army, imposing curfew to hearing endless tales of shopkeepers, the business community at the receiving end of extortion, kidnapping, bombings and being targeted by the insurgency group.

Even our local dailies are bombarded, with news clips of the various armed insurgent groups, or shootings that take place, etc. However, over the past few years, a kind of subtle normalcy has taken place in the state, due to the relentless efforts from both sides (the Indian government and the Naga armed insurgents) to maintain peace, engage in dialogue and come to an amicable solution. 

However, this was what many Naga millennials grew up with, against the backdrop of gun violence, bombings, kidnapping, genocide, military operations, extortions.

In Derry Girls, these five teenagers are almost oblivious to the violent culture around them and instead caught up in their own world of high school drama, bunking classes, gushing about their crushes, and planning for prom. These teenagers are caught up in their own bubble world. And it’s a good thing, because in their pop culture world of listening to boy bands (like Take That), to trying to find a part-time job to be able to join their class trip to Paris, and obsessing over test and exams, they are perhaps shielded by the ugly realities of the real world around them. The real world which to them was an environment of hostility, mistrust, fear, unrest, and hatred.

Growing up in Dimapur as teenagers we (millennials or late millennials) had a similar experience. Apart from all the “violence” happening around us, as high school teenagers, it was the least of our problems which bill was passed or which political group was ruling.  After school and in between recess, our problems and issues revolved around trying to catch a glimpse of our crush who was a senior, trying to investigate who spread slander about one of our friends, and plastering our rooms with posters of Spice Girls and Backstreet Boys.

You see, very similar to the situation in Northern Ireland, during the eighties, the reality of our world was tainted with wars, political unrest, and an uncertain future. However, very similar to Derry Girls, as high school teens, we were too caught up in our own world of MTV, high school crushes,

and high school drama to fret let alone think about the underlying reality of our troubled state.

And perhaps this is true to this day, as a new generation of millennials rises up in Nagaland, against the backdrop of the continuing political unrest, these teens are caught up in their Instagram and reality tv shows, sports week and Mr and Miss fresher, k pop, beatboxing, and cosfest, to sit back and ponder on the murk that paints their home state. And perhaps it’s a good thing. Perhaps it’s a good thing to be shielded away, to divert their attention elsewhere, and give them room to dream, to aspire, to be inspired, and to be creative. So that, as they get older, they will remember their world not as one marked by constant violence, hatred and mistrust; but a world which is imprinted with creative variety, diverse influences, and inspiration, and in this way, give room for poets, writers, and artist to take over soldiers, radical anarchist, and thugs. Perhaps Dimapur is Derry for many high school teenagers, and like in Derry, life will go on, laughter will continue, and dramas and dreams will flourish.