Am I a climate refugee?

Privileged to have “escaped”?

I have openly professed great love for Minneapolis. I love living in Southside. It is where my chosen community resides for the most part. I have slowly but surely fallen in love with this town. It’s now my town.

I love its freer social moors and the diversity of its people. I love its crazy seasons and its even crazier characters. Hell, I even love the winter (keeps the idiots indoors for a few months).

No doubt, Minneapolis has its problems; But it has way fewer problems than most cities around the world.

It certainly seems to be the best among the many I have lived in.

It’s the ship I’ve chosen to go down with. But I’d be lying if I didn’t also admit that it’s a really comfortable ship to go down with.

It’s certainly far more comfortable and pleasant for my family to live in Minneapolis than Bangalore, the city of my childhood. It’s safer, less polluted, and provides greater experiential opportunities than Bangalore ever could.

Which is why I wonder if I might be a climate refugee myself.

The reasons I’m here are no different, after all.

It just seems I have been too ashamed to admit it thus far.

As a member of the Indian diaspora today…

one survives the madness only by looking forward.

It doesn’t feel great to be from the subcontinent these days.

With the ongoing mad rise of fascist, autocratic states, it doesn’t feel great to be human even.

But it feels particularly acute with the country of my birth.

The most powerful classes and communities in India and the Diaspora are descending into utter, obscurantist tragedy.

Friends and relatives included; Ones I couldn’t have imagined.

Supporting an irrational, nationalist political ideology that has seen the country plummet in pretty much every criteria of human development. From democracy to food security, from health to gender equality, it’s never looked this bad in India for quite a while.

Still the nationalists cheer and dance; While the autocrats loot and pilfer.

I feel lost as I see this mass psychosis unfold before me.

Lost and helpless.

All I can do is keep looking forward.

In hope…

my all…

my everything.

on individualism

10/22/21

As I’ve become more and more American (or should I say Of The New World), often kicking and screaming mind you, the myth of The Individual is something I find myself wrestling with in fascinating ways. This myth exists elsewhere but it takes on glorious, folklorist proportions in America. I have mused about this in the past, with a focus on the dangers of alienation and fearmongering.

In this post, I choose to harness a more positive framework in understanding individualism, with a specific focus on the bulwark that genuine individualism provides against regressive human tendencies such as misogyny and fascism. I don’t believe I have ever truly accounted for just how much individualism has helped me in my journey, saving me many a time from making rash decisions.

It is important in this day and age to have a strong sense of self. My entire adulthood has basically seen the steady and unmistakable rise of hyper-nationalism and the reassertion of religious patriarchy as a (last, ditch) violent counter to the increasing globalism and rationalism that humanity is heading towards.

However it has also seen the steady and unmistakable rise of individualism and the desire for social freedoms.

Less and less people around the world want to be told what to do by authorities or social fiat. This is actually a very human tendency, if you think about it. We’ve just had a bit of a blip, in my opinion. Ever since agrarianism, accumulation, and tribalism taking root in humanity over the last few millennia, the fear of tomorrow has resulted in much mass psychoses; with people seeking deities and authorities for pyrrhic comfort.

I do however believe this blip in the actualization of our species is seeing its gory end. We are entering a new age. One marked by increasing focus on the individual, the aspirational self, and probably existential quandaries too.

I used to think these were “bad” things.

Now I just see them as social phenomena guided, like all social phenomena are, by randomness and environmental determinants.

And when I look at it through that lens, I see something to potentially celebrate.

That people couldn’t be bothered anymore to take up arms on behalf of despots and maniacs. It’s just too much work.

Sure, there will always be “crazies” and moments of communal madness – but increasingly I see people choose easy dopamine fixes (something that’s being made available in ever-increasing abundance) over the tedium of chauvinism. This is easy to dismiss given the current high tide for fascism and misogyny, seemingly worldwide.

But look at the numbers and you’ll see that, as a species, we’re slowly but steadily moving towards less war, less despair, and less violence, and a greater collective desire (ironically enough) for more individual freedoms.

Or maybe these are the lunatic ramblings of a man choosing to meet his inevitable midlife crisis head on, with dollops of optimism.

Regardless, it’s less stressful for me this way.

on pain (and admitting to being a cantankerous moody bastard)

It amazes me how the easier life gets, the more pain it has the capacity to regurgitate via memories.

This is, of course, how trauma manifests itself. One is capable of processing said trauma only when one has the time and space to do so.

I am in this place in life where I can now process the shittier stuff that I’ve gone through. Life is peaceful, plentiful, and blessed…which means the insufferable processing of traumatic memories can commence.

Gaaah…FUCK!!!

And I know, oh, I KNOW, that I’ve had and continue to have an immeasurably lucky life. Every fucking day, I count my blessings and go through survivors guilt like it’s a giant turd that won’t pass not matter how much fiber I stuff through my gullet.

I’m trying acceptance now. (Maybe it’s less of a turd and more like a benign tumor?)

I accept that pain is an irritatingly honest friend for life.

So I’m going to embrace being a cantankerous moody bastard too; Because it keeps me honest and, ironically enough, happier for it. Also, I don’t really have a choice. I’m not this cheery, bubbly person who farts rainbows and pukes fairy dust. I can never be that person.

Thus, a cantankerous moody bastard am I.

Since I’m on this trip of self-assessment, I might as well briefly mull over my insecurities. I am so very insecure now. So much more insecure now than I’ve ever been before, despite life being ostensibly more stable.

It’s the fatherhood thing.

Whelp.

This parenting thing can be hard sometimes man. Especially as a dad. I’m not afraid to admit this now. It’s bloody hard sometimes.

You see, I feel like the bargain bin parent; the minor leaguer pretending like he belongs in the show; constantly rejected by my precocious daughter (she’s 5, going on 55, and currently kicking ass in kindergarten), which results in me sulking and whining like a fucking child to Sus (“You had three years of breast feeding her! Of course Daya prefers you over me! Waaaaaah! My daughter hates me! It’s not fair! Waaaaaah!”)

It’s no wonder I keep seeking finishers medals in workout challenges and 5k road races.

It’s the same reason I tell myself, “Sus and Daya must keep me around for a reason…”

Hey, I might never place, but at least I’ll finish the damn race. That counts for something!

*sigh*

Oh how time flies by like a motherfucker, my dears.

I wake up and another week has just blurred.

Every evening, I slowly relive my myriad failures as a father, husband, and let’s face it, son as well…with the comforting thought that I get to do it all again tomorrow.

It is at this mental and emotional juncture, that I gently whisper to the voices of judgment inside my head…

“Fuck off…I did my best.”

(There are times when I need to be my best friend.)

All over the world wars are fought over water…

While in my town we water electric bikes through the night…

there is glory in insignificance and balance in randomness…

just as there is inherent beauty in every view.

*

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why seek poisoned chalices and gilded cages?

when you know that you come from the earth…

and will eventually return to it.

why seek ego trips and a priori aspirations?

when you know that you are but a random configuration of energy, matter, and information…

to be reconfigured very, very shortly.

existence is neither to be feared nor valorized.