Oscar-Winning Speeches and Vultures in a Desert

Okay, so this one has no point. None whatsoever. Its more on the lines of a rant slash vent. So bear with me.

This morning, as my brother excitedly discussed the buying of this year's batch of Diwali fireworks with my dad, I decided to butt in. Its become quite an expected thing these days. My butting in, I mean. And its also not the most popular thing in my family's life either. For several reasons. One of which is that everything I seem to say is either considered too 'Americanised' or too 'quintessentially teenage-ish'. Neither of which I can totally deny. But the accusation both of which can hurt pretty badly. 

Anyway, so back to this morning. And back to the excited brother and my unwanted butt. 

"Why don't we boycott crackers this Diwali?", I said, pretty excitedly, quite sure I'd be greeted with a chance to elaborate, in the least.

"Noooooo!" wailed my brother, turning to my father with a piteous expression. I swear, the onlookers must have thought I'd asked him to give up his life for the sake of a hobbit. Or sacrifice his entire chest of clothes for charity. Or give up his dream of buying the X-BOX 360. 

"But Shashwat..." I started in my sweetest voice (My mom's always told me that I know which 'voice' to put on if I want to get him to do something- something which, naturally, I'm accused of using only to meet selfish interests- a trait which, again, typifies my 'evil didi' image)

"No didi", he said firmly (and I kinda chuckled. This would be a great case in point for my next argument with mum. But of course she wasn't there when she was most needed!). He continued, a little more desperate this time, switching to wails, "But all my friends are gonna burst crackers!"

"But Shashu, if we abstain this time, it might cause less pollution no!" I persisted.

"No!" And he started looking to my father- who had been silently enjoying our tussle so far- for support.

Being put under the limelight, he chose to go the diplomatic way. "We can think of doing something different this time na?" he said, looking at his son who obviously seemed not to agree.

"Think of it Shashwat" I said, trying to not lose my nerve, and also realising that the conversation had to end coz we'd come to the end of the stairs and had to head our separate ways for the morning.

He pretended not to hear and strutted off.

Eventually, all was forgotten until the afternoon. In the middle of another conversation he was having with dad about when to head out to buy the fireworks, my (in)famous butt landed right in.

"But Shashwat, you still wanna buy them?!" I was genuinely disappointed. I'd recently started thinking of my brother as an equal, trusting him to understand what I was saying. And nine times out of ten, he lived up to it.

This obviously wasn't among those nine though, as I was beginning to realise.

Yet, not one to be outdone, I continued, "Look, we all talk about pollution and global warming and stuff. And how each of us has a role to play in the deterioration of the Earth and it's climate. And then if you go ahead and consciously buy crackers, knowing what it'll do to the environment, knowing what harm you're causing, isn't that being hypocritical?" I ended with a flair- feeling proud of myself. I mean, Al Gore's got an Oscar for that kinda stuff. 

I was just about preparing my Oscar-winning speech when I realised the words had sunk in as much into my brother as water would into a duck that's been rubbed with candles all night. Nil. Zilch. Zero.

And the famous Sulk was back again. You know how paranoid Gujju's shut their doors during the Gujarat riots so that not a mosquito could find its way inside their homes? Well, Shashwat has implemented the model on a smaller scale- his body. The senses just shut- so that nothing goes in, and none can come out.

And suddenly, I felt like an injured soldier in an endless desert, all too easy for the vultures to spot. And they were on the attack right away.

"Just leave him alone!" My mother said in an angry whisper.

"Abba! She's really cornering him ya!" My aunt joked.

I turned to the last vulture with a yes-now-what-do-you-have-left-to-say look. "I didn't say anything. It was purely the observation of the onlookers!" My dad said with a smirk. Translated, it meant, I told you- everyone agrees you're too full of yourself!

The Sulk had worked again. Great. Just great.

So I walked out (like there was anything left to do!). Slamming the door on my way into the room and burying myself in my pillows. Where did you think the Sulk actually originated?!

A number of thoughts raced through my mind as my whole "I'm out to save the world" theme had found zilch supporters. 

How can I change the world if I can't even convince my family to do something so miniscule? How can the world be saved if a bunch of educated individuals can't be rational and see sense? my emotions went into overdrive, as my eyes started welling up.

And the theme smoothly shifted to another This is what happens when anyone my age tries to do anything- we're brushed away as pretentious teenagers who don't know what they're talking about! How can people underestimate the power of youth? How can they underestimate our intellect or even our concern for our world? the flood of questions continued as did the tears, self-pity taking over me.

Its been an hour since it all happened. And I realised I kinda ignored one small fact. Shashwat is a fourteen-year-old. And I don't think a fourteen-year-old me was too different.

Oh well, another day then for them Oscar winning speeches! ;)

PS: This is the reason I think The creator of Calvin is absolutely brilliant:

14th of April 2007

It was just one of those days that you come to recognise for its value only as the years that roll by. One of those days when you are completely unaware of the fact that you're being a part of something that you'll quote for the rest of your life. Just one of those days.
Barack Obama. It was a name that had come to be associated with a guy who had the audacity to hope. The audacity to hope that people would ignore the colour of his skin, the missing pages in his resume and the sheer audacity of his dream. The audacity to hope that people could look straight into his heart and see a guy who wanted to change the world for the better- and share his belief that he could.

But it ended at that. At least that's what it seemed at that time to a bunch of teenagers who trooped off to hear him speak at a pep rally in Atlanta. To us, he was just one of those flashes of brilliance and daring that one sees every once in a while- only to vanish into oblivion as fast as they emerge.

However, as we stood in that crowd, we too- for a moment- fell under the 'Obama spell'. For that hour and a half- as he talked about the solutions to the problems we face, the Iraq war, the middle east crisis and everything else that made the road ahead seem gloomy and impossible- he made us all believe that this world was wonderful, and that it would be even more wonderful if there were more of his kind out there. He drew us into his speech in such a way that every one of those three-thousand odd people probably felt he was talking directly to them. And what can be more of a testimony to the effectiveness of this spell than that an Indian exchange student, with no interest in politics whatsoever- and with minimum concern for who'd rule an alien country, fell victim to it?

As I came back to India and a few months passed, I realised I wasn't the only one without immunity to this spell. The world was smitten. Obama had emerged nearly a demi-God, getting rock-star like welcomes wherever he set foot domestically and internationally. He had almost become a phenomenon- and his speeches more than lived upto his image. And I increasingly realised that I'd had an opportunity to soak into this phenomena just as it started- to listen to the voice that had revived hope in an increasingly pessimistic world.

Now, as the US Presidential Race moves towards its final lap before the elections in November, the eyes of the entire world are on Washington D.C. As we increasingly realize the significance of this particular election in the way the whole world will be affected, it is obvious that there is more at stake than we would wish on the choice of a population that kept George Bush in office for eight straight years.

On the outside, the two candidates- John McCain and Barack Obama- are as different as they can be. John McCain- the Republican candidate- is the old warhorse, the Vietnam war veteran who has seen it all, done it all- the heavyweight in affairs of foreign policy and economy. Barack Obama- the Democratic candidate- is considered a total outsider to the White House, a charismatic face that has risen from the crowds to capture their imagination- the man whose campaign has singularly run on two words- hope and change. The two, therefore, present a very obvious choice for the voters- tradition versus change, experience versus fresh optimism, age versus youth, age-old beliefs versus hope.

But that is not what the real questions are. The real question is- and will remain, “Who is the right man for the job of running the world’s most powerful- but also, arguably, the world’s most hated- country today?”

And Barack Hussein Obama, in my opinion, is the man for the moment. Not just because he has endeared himself to America despite his middle and last names having undeniable resemblances to two of the country’s biggest enemies. Not just because in a country still bound by the shackles of racism-- he has forced people to look beyond his colour. Not just because, as he goes around the world, the overwhelming love and support he gets has made him the unofficial candidate of the world. Not just because his leadership is probably the only way the US can mend its broken image around the world. Not just because he has enthused a significant percentage of the youth to come out and vote- to come out and show that they care. Not just because he is a melting pot of various cultures- African, Hawaiian, Filipino, Mexican- a symbol of the very thing the USA prides itself on. Not just because he is one of the greatest orators I have had the opportunity to hear. Not just because his popularity is comparable to one of America’s ultimate sweethearts- J. F. Kennedy. Not just because- in a world plunged in despair- he arouses a near-forgotten optimism.

Not just because of all that. But because he is- and will remain- the correct answer.