Skip to main content

Dislocated People



When a society changes in any important respect, dislocation of character takes place, said psychologist Eric Fromm.  For example, when the feudalist system was replaced with the capitalist system many people found themselves like fish out of water until they adapted themselves to the new system. 

We live in a time of rapid changes.  Each day comes with a new technology, a new software for the laptop, or a new app to be added to the smart phone.  Our world is not what it was twenty years ago.  Post offices have become redundant.  The video player metamorphosed into CD player which soon became defunct.  The CD/DVD drive replaced the floppy drive, only to be overtaken by the pen drive even before we could absorb all these changes.  Door Darshan became a romantic nostalgia struggling to breathe amid a plethora of channels of all types.  Banks went to ATMs before coming home on our laptop screens.  Queues for paying all kinds of bills vanished when online payment gateways opened new avenues.  Even the music player went individualistic with earphones attached to personal gadgets.  

We live in a world of individuals cut off from one another.  The community life became virtual with bloggers’ communities and social networks where we shared a lot of things like our views and photographs, without actually sharing anything.

Such radical changes don’t happen without affecting our character.  Many of us have adapted ourselves to the new world.  Many of us are trying to adapt.  Quite many are not able to, may not know how to, may not have the accessories required.

There are many people who feel dislocated in the new world.  The old character does not fit the new society, to use Fromm’s words.  A sense of alienation and despair may be the result.  Crimes increase as a result.

What is the remedy?  We have to find new roots and relationships, suggested Fromm.  In other words, adapt ourselves in a healthy way without losing our core values and personality. 

Many people are unable to do that.  Consequently we have a society of dislocated people.   People who are mere shadows of themselves.  The virtual life of shadows won’t give us any satisfaction.  Loneliness, despair, frustrations… unhappiness is the result.  And we search for happiness in all kinds of places.  In the malls, in eateries, in acquisitions… But they fail to provide the real happiness which can only come from a well adjusted personality.  Happiness does not lie outside there. 

When things in the mall, food and drinks in the eateries or increasing number of apartments or villas or luxury cars fail to give us happiness, we start looking for the panacea.  Gurus and Babas offer instant remedies.  Cults mushroom.  Fraudulent organisations and industries trap us.  They may come even in the garb of beauty parlours or massage parlours.


Happy are those who can see the superficiality of all these and touch the real depths within.  Theirs is the kingdom of heaven, if I may paraphrase Jesus.  Without the waters of life that spring from the deepest cores of our very souls, our existence remains like the fountains that go on recycling the same putrid water.  


Top post on IndiBlogger.in, the community of Indian Bloggers


Comments

  1. So true, fully agree. Good read.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Very true and thought provoking!

    ReplyDelete
  3. It is true. Fashion is a passing fad. We can't lose our core values for such fashionable things.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Its the reality, and its gripping everyone at a rapid rate...

    ReplyDelete
  5. Great post ! Very insightful and relevant to our current materialistic lives and quick gratification.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Are people really dislocated? Or are they getting more and more narcissist, thanks to advent of social networking platforms? :)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Florentino’s Many Loves

Florentino Ariza has had 622 serious relationships (combo pack with sex) apart from numerous fleeting liaisons before he is able to embrace the only woman whom he loved with all his heart and soul. And that embrace happens “after a long and troubled love affair” that lasted 51 years, 9 months, and 4 days. Florentino is in his late 70s when he is able to behold, and hold as well, the very body of his beloved Fermina, who is just a few years younger than him. She now stands before him with her wrinkled shoulders, sagged breasts, and flabby skin that is as pale and cold as a frog’s. It is the culmination of a long, very long, wait as far as Florentino is concerned, the end of his passionate quest for his holy grail. “I’ve remained a virgin for you,” he says. All those 622 and more women whose details filled the 25 diaries that he kept writing with meticulous devotion have now vanished into thin air. They mean nothing now that he has reached where he longed to reach all his life. The

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Unromantic Men

Romance is a tenderness of the heart. That is disappearing even from the movies. Tenderness of heart is not a virtue anymore; it is a weakness. Who is an ideal man in today’s world? Shakespeare’s Romeo and Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s Devdas would be considered as fools in today’s world in which the wealthiest individuals appear on elite lists, ‘strong’ leaders are hailed as nationalist heroes, and success is equated with anything other than traditional virtues. The protagonist of Colleen McCullough’s 1977 novel, The Thorn Birds [which sold more than 33 million copies], is torn between his idealism and his natural weaknesses as a human being. Ralph de Bricassart is a young Catholic priest who is sent on a kind of punishment-appointment to a remote rural area of Australia where the Cleary family arrives from New Zealand in 1921 to take care of the enormous estate of Mary Carson who is Paddy Cleary’s own sister. Meggy Cleary is the only daughter of Paddy and Fiona who have eight so

Octlantis

I was reading an essay on octopuses when friend John walked in. When he is bored of his usual activities – babysitting and gardening – he would come over. Politics was the favourite concern of our conversations. We discussed politics so earnestly that any observer might think that we were running the world through the politicians quite like the gods running it through their devotees. “Octopuses are quite queer creatures,” I said. The essay I was reading had got all my attention. Moreover, I was getting bored of politics which is irredeemable anyway. “They have too many brains and a lot of hearts.” “That’s queer indeed,” John agreed. “Each arm has a mind of its own. Two-thirds of an octopus’s neurons are found in their arms. The arms can taste, touch, feel and act on their own without any input from the brain.” “They are quite like our politicians,” John observed. Everything is linked to politics in John’s mind. I was impressed with his analogy, however. “Perhaps, you’re r

Yesterday

With students of Carmel Margaret, are you grieving / Over Goldengrove unleaving…? It was one of my first days in the eleventh class of Carmel Public School in Kerala, the last school of my teaching career. One girl, whose name was not Margaret, was in the class looking extremely melancholy. I had noticed her for a few days. I didn’t know how to put the matter over to her. I had already told the students that a smiling face was a rule in the English class. Since Margaret didn’t comply, I chose to drag Hopkins in. I replaced the name of Margaret with the girl’s actual name, however, when I quoted the lines. Margaret is a little girl in the Hopkins poem. Looking at autumn’s falling leaves, Margaret is saddened by the fact of life’s inevitable degeneration. The leaves have to turn yellow and eventually fall. And decay. The poet tells her that she has no choice but accept certain inevitabilities of life. Sorrow is our legacy, Margaret , I said to Margaret’s alter ego in my class. Let