Comics on the go

Our worlds are so small. When we rewind the wires accumulated, a point is reached so soon where it began in the first place. In the northern part of India, many years ago, people mainly conversed in Hindi. Many of us were not conversant in English. In early 90’s, kids weren’t online. Watching TV was limited to few hours a day. Scrutinized kids shows were the only ones allowed to watch after finishing the day’s homework from school. Scorching sun forbade from playing in the afternoon. That was the time when we exchanged and read cartons of comics. Comics with big images of the so called superheroes and a thin write up on storyline or dialogues.

You name them, I have read them somewhere sometime. Few famous ones where Chacha Chaudhary – his brain runs faster than computer, Nagraj – Snake King, Shaktiman - Superman, Pinky the menace. All these characters were part of Indian comic era. There were few rare ones – Archies. I had a collection of them in cartons. A prized possession of comic collector.

The fondest memory of my childhood was reading comics after coming from school. Me and my brother finished lunch in a jiffy just to have more time to read before taking an afternoon nap. Luckily, Mummy was an English teacher, she had the privilege to borrow 5 books or magazines a week. She was the one who encouraged us to read more and more. Her school had subscriptions for Balhans, Nandan, Champak, Chanda Mama, Wisdom, Tinkle and so on. I even read Woman’s Era and Gruh Shobha which were meant for women. We devoured them in no time without batting eyes. All the characters were different and they were a superhero in themselves. How badly I wished to be at least one among them.

These stories did transcend the realm of reality and dream. I travelled the never known worlds. Had so many powers which were unheard of. The characters were too good for a miss goody two shoes. I was the supreme, the ultimate as the imagination amalgamated with the comic character.

When the reality downed, I was none. I was a simple girl who lived with parents and a brother. A girl who was always reminded that she doesn’t belong there. She must learn household chores and study well to get a good groom and serve in laws. Mandatorily, she had to do well in studies so as to stand on her foot. It was a myth that my parents strongly believed - an earning woman will be respected more than a housewife. Moreover, if something goes wrong, education will come to a rescue.

Every time, we played on stake and my guess was correct, I believed may be I have the power to predict. I made several friends, made me think that it’s so supernatural that so many people are attracted towards me. I am still nonplussed whether I had it all or not.

One thing was common in all these books. The superheroes were good people, helped and won over the evil. All of them were respected and loved by one and all. It has somehow sawn the seed of being the righteous in me.

I tried my best to be good. Good in the simplest of acts like sharing lunch, parting with toys, caring for others. For this, some called me innocent, many were attracted. The irony was, the other school strongly believed that I am just acting to be too good or being ignorant and stupid. There was a flip side too. People took undue advantage. Like; some were friends to get my school or college notes. I was credulous and wanted to help whosoever was in pain. It proved detrimental for myself. In the end, sometime I was unable trust anyone. It’s so complex.

I always gave alms to any beggar on the street. Saved all my old clothes and books to be given to the needy. One day, I saw a blind guy who was begging, moved in the train’s ladies coach rubbing them incessantly. I was annoyed, told him to go to some other coach and beg. For that, he retorted if you want to give something give, otherwise don’t shout. No one bothered to utter anything. In the next stop, he got down with a grin, removing the blind glasses.

On an occasion, I gave few rupees to a handicapped beggar on my way to office in a car. The moment, I gave the money, he ran to a liquor shop. I decided to not to give money to anyone. May be I’ll give food, clothes or books that’s of no use to me, but, could be an asset to someone.

Some incidents like this, made me to ponder, you can’t be messiah for everyone. In other words, anybody in agony doesn’t necessarily need a godly person to hold them. It’s you who needs you the most. A voice that keeps echoing – raise, embrace you and all is yours.

When we were bidding farewell from the college where I did Masters in Business Administration, our group planned to print a slam book with commonly used good nick names for everyone. On my page, I had a nick name – gandha kural. Though, written in English, these words were in Tamil. I called up the friend who got it printed, he translated it as magnetic voice. I never gave a thought that my voice could be a super power which really did attract people. It made me happy. In a way, all of us have some superpower that might be known or unknown. It’s there within us. You are a Superhero.

On growing up, people made fun when they saw me with these comics. I was supposed to grow up, read newspapers and novels. So did I. Gradually, had to bid goodbye to comics to learn that our world is better explained in a book of fiction. In a fiction, the story might be true or untrue. But, the characters portrayed by the protagonist resembles us. Now, not necessarily there has to be a clear distinction between the good and evil. It’s all our views that we pursue in a character. There is no clear demarcation. No one is a so called Superhero who exist. It all lies in the perception. Beauty beholds in the eye!

 - Saranya Kulothungan