A window into the fixity and flux

a common passage, a traffic jam, a row of windows and a song that's a balm

This flash essay is part of a collaborative, constrained-writing challenge undertaken by some members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group. This month, we used the prompt, ‘A Window Into…’. At the bottom of this snippet, you’ll find links to other essays by fellow writers.

There is this common passage in the apartment complex I live in, where I go for walks. On one side of the passage is a compound wall that’s almost 10 ft. tall adorned with barbed wire, end-to-end. Adjacently, there’s a row of windows that’s slightly elevated from my eye level. So, mostly all I get to experience is the smell and sounds. Depending on the time of the day, the experience changes. In the mornings — alarms blare from a few windows at 5 to 15-minute intervals. Surprisingly, two have the same tone. This is followed by spinning of a washing machine and scent of the flowery fabric conditioner, every other day. Then there’s the hissing of pressure cooker. Simmering sounds of mustard seeds accompanied by the crackle of curry leaves. The aroma is a bonus. This, at times, a little before 8 am or occasionally around 12 pm. But relatively, afternoons are as silent as the good old banks at lunch break.

Evenings are when you notice how these openings change in character from one moment to another. There’s a little chatter of parents and a lot of cacophony of kids, so the windows keep them where they belong, the common passage. Half past seven, from one window you can hear the shruti box’s drone and two voices practicing in unison. Unlike the houses in the past, which would hint about the people or the heads of that family living in it — these days, where we are restricted to pigeon holes — windows offer a glimpse about the people in them.

Lois Dodd, Night House with Lit Window, 2012, oil on linen, 122 × 183 cm. Courtesy: Modern Art, London and Alexandre Gallery, New York (via Frieze.com)

While what you read earlier is the view of the windows from outside in, there’s another face to this coin. The view from the inside out. What are the people from the inside looking at? Where is their gaze focused on? Would they even look out or within? Furthermore, what does it mean to be where they are right now? And this is where we segue into the song of this post.

A true classic and one video that is a touch point to trigger 90’s nostalgia of early MTV days in India. A song that would play almost every morning, while I would leave to school and even on a Saturday morning when I was at my grandma’s house. And, while the lyrics by itself is a easy to hum along and to an extent decipherable, for someone who grew up watching regional National award winning movies on Sunday afternoons with subtitles, this video was an exception. While the song begins with the lyrics as subtitles, at one point, at the below shared frame it changes. And it makes one wonder why doesn’t it sync with the song.

It was after repeated watches and many years, it hit me - it’s their mental chatter. And when you know have this realization and watch the video again, the whole story/stories play differently. It’s almost like you have a full view of each house with the curtains bared. You gape in to see the tension between the fixity facade and the flux mental state as the camera pans from the windows of one car to another.

A common thread — every other person is hurt in someway or another. More importantly, no spoiler here, they’re all stuck. However, it’s the next frame that elevates the whole story to a different plane.

A silhouette of a person looking down. As the car approaches, the character is revealed and is seen tearing pages from a book and letting it afloat.

A stark reminder that, there are times when even some signs from above or words from the scriptures may not reach you or speak to you.

Then there’s this part where the subtitles echo the sentiments of the voiceless.

Especially, this above frame that shows a bunch of flowers placed on an empty seat poignantly capturing the absence of someone. Watch the video leisurely, mindfully — gaze into the windows one after another and read between the lines, rather look behind the panes. There’s way more than what meets the eye in these windows. Especially, that last aerial shot that hints at a scene of rapture.

People have been previously referred to as houses or more aptly little boxes as Pete Seeger sang. However, I believe in addition to that we are akin to this mythical character Cyclops, if you wish to imagine more visually. A house with just one window open. Few get a fleeting glance, while fewer get to gaze into it. And maybe, just one or two get welcomed in with the door wide open. However, for most part of one’s life they remain as a house with only a window in view. Some get to know the fixity and a few get acquainted with the flux, but not many get to see both.

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Read on for other Essays based on the same theme from my fellow members of the Bangalore Substack Writers Group:

The window that looks back, by Vaibhav Gupta, Thorough and Unkempt

A window into the vegetable market by Rakhi Kurup , Rakhi’s Substack

A window into permission for freedom: The FIRE Number by Shruti Soumya, Same Here

A window into a person who shivers on stage by Mihir Chate, Mihir’s Substack

A window into a life on a sabbatical by Ritika Arora, Ritika Arora – Medium

A window into bendy morals by Amit Kumar, EarlyNotes

A window into Kalimpong by Karthik Ballu, Reading This World by Karthik

A window into what makes a great Quiz Question
by Rajat Gururaj, I came, I saw, I floundered

Still Looking By Spandana, Spandana’s Substack

Three Windows in a Week By Nidhi, General In Her Labyrinth

A window into a screen-less day by Saniya Zehra Saniya’s Substack

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If you’ve come this far, you deserve a bonus - here’s a cover version by the Corrs, played for MTV Unplugged.

#acnotes