I think I exist as a passive polarity. Someone who stands in extremity to understand the other positions. But not an extremism that imposes. But an extremism that simply exists, and by this existence creates/attracts an opposition. You never know who you are unless you meet what you can never be. You never realize you are a pacifist unless you reject an offer for violence. You never realize you are an atheist unless you reject religion. Unless you dine in an uber opulent designer chef restaurant where each meal costs the monthly income of four families and tastes like the Rogan Ghosh that you made on a lazy Sunday brunch and drink fine wine, which is nothing more that painted rotten grapes, you cannot understand Kobad Ghandy. Unless you meet with opposition ,you accept your state of being as an unquestionable reality, as the default state of being.
But that is the ideal scenario. Fortunately, the world is not so black and white. In a black and white scenario, the black creates the white, but what happens with a mild grey? Does it produce a deep gray? Or a medium gray?
What happens when you meet your own parents, for instance, on a boring party somewhere as strangers? Would you like them for who they are? If you didn’t spend most of your life accepted the world they painted for you and some of it questioning it, if most of your significant memories didn’t have them in it, would you still value them? Aren’t most of the people we meet then, our parents in their own right? Any one of those bastards we curse during outreach can potentially be our parent.
(Parallel-ly, do you have to like someone to love someone? I know the vice versa is not true. There are many people I respect, adore and worship and of course, like. But I don’t love them. And not because I put love up on a pedestal and claim it is the most superior form of emotion. I think every person has a different tune of our individual perception of the maximum emotion we can feel for a person. And we label it love. Like is actually more instinctive that love. Love is acquired. Love is labored. Love is sowed, watered and grown. )
I think in a small way, what we feel for others has a direct relationship to what they teach us about ourselves. And whatever happens, wherever I go from here, I know that I will forever be fond of all three of you – you, S and Sa for teaching me my own limits, my own definitions and pushing it, questioning it and confusing it.
I am not S because I cannot bear the knowledge he bears, knowledge of deception, deceit, decay, desolation and destruction and have the will to brush it away when the time comes for it. I can scream, yell, shout, slap and fight, one on one, face to face. And when I know I have given it my best, I can sit back, relax and completely lose myself in space and time. And I think that’s why architecture is a question mark for me. I can deal with aggression. It doesnt frighten me when someone screams at me, or points a gun to my face, as long as I know where that person stands. What frightens me is seduction. Shadow play. Elusiveness. Slyness. Cunningness. Those wonderful words that can produce the most wonderful works of humanity. But they can only be wonderful when they are based on truth – yours or mine.
But when you mind is corrupt, polluted and convuluted with thoughts of many lies/truths, then you seek that simplicity and clarity in your work.