Bhavana of December 1992

Pic Courtesy: Jude Beck on Upsplash

Bhavana of December 1992 was different. She was more interested in Love than Politics. And love was specifically romantic love.

Those were the days of Basic Instinct, friends, good food, challenging teachers, wondering about the planetary influence on love lives, looking pretty and ghazals. I cared about the country but not like – I know and understand the challenges of my country and I would like to improve it. Rather, I believed the country’s destiny was intertwined with my destiny. My awesome future would help my country shine. You know that kind of self-absorption.

Stories We Tell

Kitty Genovese

In the documentary, "The Witness" Kitty Genovese's killer Winston Mosley and his son tell stories that baffle me. The documentary traces the effort of Kitty's younger brother Bill to uncover what happened on that fateful evening of 1964 when she was stalked, raped and murdered.

Winston Mosley's son Revered Steven tells Bill that his family were afraid for his safety because they believed, incorrectly, that Bill was part of the Genovese crime family. Further, the Reverend wonders if it was Kitty's racial slurs that spurred the attack. He also reminds him that the Mosley children lost their father and suffered the label of being children to a murderer. 

In the later segment of the film, Mosley himself sends a letter to Bill suggesting the crime was committed by someone else who was never captured and that he was merely the getaway driver for the actual killer.

What perplexed me is how each story placed the subject, the storyteller in a kind and "good" light. And it reminded me that we don't like to tell stories of ourselves which show us as accursed, as horrible, as ugly. We figure out a way to develop stories which gives our existence some legitimacy -- whether as heroes or hapless victims, as kind but naive, or street smart but not well-read, or philosopher but a recluse. Some twist to twist ourselves into light.