The Mind City

My mind works like a city.           

I once wrote this analogy in my notebook unintentionally. However, I started to question whether it is true because I had never really experienced city life. To prove my assumption, I asked my uncle who lives in the capital to bring me around the city, so I could experience city life first hand for myself.      

Walking down the main street, I saw some Bangladeshi immigrant workers walking back from their workplace, peoples from other parts of the country dragging luggage, beggars talking with foreign tourists and many more.  I could not stop thinking that city is indeed a mélange of people from different walks of life and it is this diversity which makes the city a magnet to attract more immigrants who in turn add more color to the city.     

I too strive to make my mind a similar mélange of diverse knowledge. To add color to the city in my mind, I try to acquire information and perspectives from as many sources as I can through reading, internet surfing, discussion and observation. When I am waiting for the bus at the bus stand, I always observe how people talk, how people walk, what people do while waiting and so on. Learning increases the population of my mind city. The more I learn, the more I can learn.      

Further down the street, I saw tower cranes, excavators, roller and backhoes. The city seemed to be always in a cycle of construction, deconstruction and reconstruction. I was thrilled by the next similarity: my mind also worked in a similar cycle of learning, unlearning and relearning. Every new encounter restructures my belief and conception.     

I remember how the conversation between my first gay friend in National Service and me had changed my previous bias towards homosexuals.  He revealed how he changed his inclination after being rejected by a girl and experiencing sexual advances by another gay. He felt guilty for enjoying the attention and was afraid of possible discrimination once his secret was exposed. He said gays just have a special sexual inclination; which does not mean that they will love every man in the world, so there is no need to be afraid of them. In fact, they are just ordinary men who deserve respect or at least, empathy.   

When the alarm of my watch beeped at 11p.m., I was brought back to reality. At first, I thought that it would be the end of my trip because it was already my bedtime. However, my uncle did not follow the road we took before. I asked him whether he was going the right way. He said, "Come on, it’s just eleven. The night is still young.” He brought me to a bustling night market. On the way, I saw transsexuals standing by the road waiting to ‘serve’ their next customers and a few suspicious-looking men smoking in dark corners. Then, “Vroom!” a dozen of teenagers on their motorbikes passed by us like a storm. Some of them even showed us their middle fingers.        

Rules no longer applied here now. At night, the presentable daytime part of the city was replaced by another world. This concealed part of city, though sometimes appearing to be less desirable, was nonetheless a vital part of a city. There are many people whose livelihoods depend on activities such as operating night clubs and providing ‘special services.’ The night life of a city is just as important as its activities on day. Ignoring any of these two will paint us an incomplete picture of the city itself.      

Just as night reveals the hidden part of a city; my dreams expose my subconscious mind. In my dream, craziness which usually hides itself, dominates my thinking box. Ideas communicate with each other in an abnormal way. I would dream of something which I would never do in reality such as running around naked and taking showers at the zoo. Sometimes, I might even dream of living in a tiny room with snakes or beating a vampire into a pulp. To some extent, dreams portrayed my hidden thoughts such as violence and irrationality which I could not know or refused to know when I was awake. No matter how my conscious self denied the existence of these less presentable traits in my mind, they were still there and formed a considerable part of my mind.      

After enjoying capati, tosai and teh tarik in an Indian food stall, we then headed back to Uncle’s house. I was very glad that this tour had painted me a clearer picture of not only how a city works but also of how my mind works. I hope that I shall have more such chance discoveries through which I can further broaden my horizons.

                                                                                                                                                                 

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