He looked at me and smiled,” the Baby of Boribunder flitted across the corridor spreading sunshine on a damp winter morning even as folks were just about getting busy at work. “Yes, he looked at me too and smiled,” shot back the elderly matron, smiling. In a flash, there were smiles all over the mile-long hallway, and across the other end of the building, right into The Times Of India boardroom in Mumbai. Baby, Baba, Babe, Babu, Bunty and Bubli. Just about everybody, from the lowly peon to the second most important person in the country, was smiling. No wonder, they say, a smile is the shortest distance between two people. Cliched! you would say. So, what? I ask.
Believe me, I had never seen a sea of smiles like I did last Friday, when King Khan came calling at the Times newsroom to edit its Saturday edition. The nearest I had seen till then was a collective expression of awe when Bill Clinton came calling the first time round to India. And although I have never come face to face with Bachchan Sr, I’d imagine, he is a personality that would also generate collective awe. You have seen the TOI edition by now, so I won’t sit on judgement over its content. But you can certainly take this from me, of all the human emotions that I have ever invited myself to, I’d give my soul any day for a smile. Which brings me to that question: When was it that I smiled last? Of course, when Shah Rukh dropped in at The Times, I, a privileged outsider from the other end of the world, smiled in bewilderment.
What makes?
I can’t really bring myself to imagine what makes another person smile at you, which is really so rare. But when I come to think of it, in a world full of misery, a smile certainly is the shortest tread to happiness, which is possibly why Mona Lisa’s smile is considered the greatest work of art ever, bested only by the Smiley.
Ancient Indian wisdom categorises human emotions into nine distinct expressions or navrasas — shringar, veer, raudra, advut, karuna, hasya, bhayanak, shant, vibhatsa. It also adds two other forms — vatsalya and bhakti. I am not qualified linguist, so I won’t venture to provide you with an English translation of each of those words; I guess you’ll appreciate them anyway. The nearest expression to a smile among those 9+2 is, possibly, hasya, which should, otherwise, qualify as humour. But humour, at times, can come from the gallows. So, I wonder why the ancient masters did not incorporate the smile above every other engagement of the human face.
I guess, the answer to that lies in the progress of human civilisation that has been built on conquest, in reaching beyond the boundaries, to claim what’s yours as mine, as a matter of right. It’s also come from the human desire to explore beyond the known ever since the caveman ventured out of the secluded confines of his cave. No wonder, they say, who dares wins.
And yet, does the winner take all? Certainly not, I guess. Because, in daring, we often give expression to the most fearsome emotions, when a simple smile would do. History is witness to man’s greatest defeat in the conquest of others. This is the reason why in winning the Kalinga war, Emperor Ashoka, tasted his most inglorious defeat. Because, you can vanquish a people by the sternest expression of your soul, but you just cannot get connected by flexing your muscles. So, it’s time you pondered why it takes 37 muscles to frown, but only four to smile. The answer’s in my best songlines from BeeGees:
Smile an everlasting smile
A smile can bring you near to me
Don't ever let me find you down
Cause that would bring a tear to me
This world has lost its glory
Let's start a brand new story now...
And those songlines reverberated in my ears last week, as I watched King Khan brush past the Times corridor into an ocean of stares and glances. And the babies of Boribunder glided down the aisle raining sunshine with effervescent smileys pasted on their faces.
But, how’s it that in a world populated by billions of people, it’s not very often that we come across someone who can make us smile and get connected? It’s possible because, unlike Shah Rukh Khan and his movies, the world, after all, is not such a beautiful place. It’s possibly because conformity with the given though desirable is not quite an achievable task. It’s possibly because the drudgery of daily existence doesn’t leave us at peace with our inner selves. It’s possible because in chasing the material advances of our civilisation, we have lost touch with our innocence somewhere.
And into that dreadful world of human enrichment, enter Shah Rukh Khan in his larger-than-life multiplex presence, tells us all’s well in his make-believe tinsel world of happiness and peace.
Go, smile, anyway. :)
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