Joy in the ordinary

Here is an interesting episode that forced me to consider how sometimes joy can be found in not only unexpected but rather trying situations.

Avengers: Endgame finally dawned on the skies of Bengaluru, and my children were extremely animated to see the movie. What I didn’t realise is that every other child in Bengaluru was also just as enthusiastic. We soon found out that all the cinemas were booked. We tried to find seats in almost all the theatres we had in the vicinity and were disappointed. It seemed that the peace and quiet of my household would come to an end if I didn’t find a way to show my kids the alleged last movie of The Avengers.

As always, my husband came to the rescue. He found tickets in a ‘local cinema hall’, not far from our home in the suburbs. Now, the kids were not sure whether they should continue to be excited about it or not… as they would eventually get to watch the movie, however, it would not be in the sanitised, luxurious environment of a mall, and it certainly wouldn’t be ‘gold class’. However, the tug of the movie was strong and we found ourselves in front of the ‘local cinema’ unable to park our car.

The crowd was intense and the weather sultry. As always in India, there was some order in the disorder and at some point, we were able to park our car. Now, we only had to face the queue… wait, there was no queue. There were just people who seemed to have cornered the cinema hall from all sides and their tribe kept increasing. Being used to the clinical but comfortable environment of the mall, I was the first to complain and my children fast followed suit. It took jostling, wriggling of the nose and forever to finally get inside the theatre. Finally, fans! …wait …were there no ACs?

As we sat in the not-so-comfortable seats, we were prepared to be disappointed. The cardboard 3D glasses we got did nothing to reassure us. The first few scenes of the movie were a blur literally and figuratively as we adjusted to the environment, seats and the glasses. Finally, the pace picked up. As a superhero entered the screen, there was loud whistling and cheering from the audience despite the fact that the dialogues were almost lost in the din. Dismayed, we trudged along. At some point, we got engrossed and the screaming did not bother us; we might have shrieked along a few times. In the climactic scene, everyone shouted and whistled.

We were amazed to find ourselves amongst the ones cheering and hooting. We had found self-expression! We were as loud (if not louder) than everyone else. We completely enjoyed ourselves. The entire theatre, notwithstanding the shabby surroundings, came to support a common cause — The Avengers.

We came out of the movie theatre thrilled and on a high note. It felt like we were a part of the film. We might have even smiled at the strangers (who we had pushed earlier). Our screams had reduced half the dialogues to dust, but we did not care. We did not care that it took forever (again!) to come out of the parking lot and that everything was unorganised. In the same high note, we drove home.

What I realised then is that our clinical lives might not have a lot to offer us in terms of excitement and joy. However, once in a while, if we experiment with life, it might just surprise us.