It was the wrong question to ask Lara Tomb Raider.
Illustration/Uday Mohite
And so Nats, my Gen Z neighbour stomped into my home, as always she looked like a cyclone in a Lonely Planet twister documentary.
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“So Natasha, what did you do for Valentine’s Day? Did you go out with your boyfriend, did you romance him, whisper sweet nothings to him, buy him a cake, make him a card, ‘coochie coo and I love you’?”
It was the wrong question to ask Lara Tomb Raider.
“See Rahul bruh... First of all, I don’t have a bae, but even if I did, we don’t live in a binary world of he/she/they/them. That’s so passe. We, all of us…”
“Ya ya… ok, I got it, so did you have a hot date with your ‘he, she, they, them’ on V Day?”
“Bruh… I didn’t… see to me, what’s the point of these so-called special days, we’re told to celebrate a day, this day that day—Sparrow Day, Remote Control Day. I mean take the much touted Women’s Day, man, we’re told to eulogise her, the woman, for one day, and the rest of the year what happens, we treat her like shit!
So what’s the significance if we pay lip service?”
“What’s respecting women got to do with V Day?”
“Dude, get with the programme! I’m saying what’s with the significance of Valentine’s Day, all this soppiness for one day, for one February 14, we’re meant to celebrate love for this one day, coochie coo, for one day, and we hate each other for the rest of the 364 days…”
“You’re not a romantic for sure.”
“Dude, romance in the time of hate. No way, I’m advocating it, our main narrative lately is negativity, toxicity, mistrust, distrust. We’ve chosen a path of hatred, attack, judgement, spewing venom, giving anyone a metaphorical megaphone these days and it becomes a Weapon of Mass Dislike/Damnation.”
“Care to explain further?”
“Okay, lemme give you an obvio example—Just take this Beer Biceps dude, and this whole Samay Raina incident, the stuff they said on their podcast. Sure, they’re both asses, suave but oversmart asses. The Beer Biceps guy with his smarmy spirituality, and the other guy with his overemphasis on obscenities. But, what those boys are being subjected to, look at the spiteful over reaction, everyone and his mother laying on their hateful judgement—using their two minutes of fame, to destroy the boys. People want to throw them behind bars—man, they’ve apologiSed, owned up to their stupidity, their idiotic lapse of judgment.
But no, the anger on the streets, the aggression, the hateful comment against them, cops showing up at their doorstep, the dormant hate brigade, swinging into action, going mercilessly after the low-hanging fruit, the soft targets, it takes little provocation for us to launch a verbal or physical attack, people killing for smallest things, road rage has gone beyond all limits.”
Nats took a pause as the steam abated.
“Dude, love in the time of hate, no chance dude.”
And then Nats let fly her version of slam poetry—
“V, V, V, V-Day... Valentines Day no more
Violent-ine Day, Vicious Day Vitrol Day,
Pull the guy down, burn him, beat him, berate him
Jail him with no bail, he’s an outcast... so decimate him
We hate, unabated, we shred,
The H word—Hate berate, subjugate, humiliate, berae subjugate, humiliate Hate... the new H-word. Word.”
Nats, said finally, “I gotta go, can I tell you my Nazi knock knock joke with a twist.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Knock knock,” she went.
“Who’s there?” I asked?
She gave me a mock-tight slap. “V will ask ze questions, not you,” she concluded with a smile and a chuckle.
“Happy V Day, bruh, spread the love!”
And Nats stomped out.
Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com
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