cunning people are like suicide bombers. they blow themselves up to hell and destroy the lives of people amidst whom they live. almost always, these are the very people who love them most (family/friends).
fortunately, nature has a sense of balance, and tends to favour the innocent. for, although they suffer injuries inflicted by the too-clever people, they are rewarded with wisdom (from the experience) and happiness (wisdom, NOT ignorance, is the actual source of bliss).
and what of the schemers? like all villains of popular fiction, they end up getting their just desserts: friendless, alienated from family, lonely and pitiable.
...oh wait, let me correct myself: they WERE friendless, alienated from family, lonely and pitiable all along. because 'clever' people are too wrapped up in their schemes to notice that they are actually loved and wanted by their family and friends; that they don't need to 'earn' these with their clever plans.
ah, if only people were sensible (not 'clever') enough to realise that being honest to themselves is all it takes to be loved...
...about others are the very qualities we despise in ourselves.
when i read 'of human bondage' by somerset maugham, i felt utter contempt for the protagonist, because he was such a spineless turd. only a masochist could do things like let the woman he loves treat him like dirt (perhaps that isn't the right word, because a masochist ENJOYS getting hurt, while this guy squirms through life lonely, discontented and unfulfilled).
such a loser.
...and then i discovered that everything i hated about him were precisely the things i hated about myself: being shy and trying to please others to the point of personal discomfort, and then philosophising away the injury inflicted upon the self (and feeling noble about it too!).
i hated the book (i still do!).
later, while reading 'peter camenzind' by hermann hesse, 'to a god unknown' or other books by steinbeck or salinger, i felt a strong connection, a feeling of bonhomie towards the protagonist.
upon retrospection, i found that what i actually loved about these books/their characters is that they are a reflection of what i perceived to be good or admirable qualities in me.
somewhere around the middle of 'steppenwolf' (by hermann hesse), the character, who in the beginning is a 'madman', turns into a 'normal' person who no longer feels alienated by society, and enjoys living in the mundane world. i'd stop reading the book at that particular point and put it down. i could no longer 'connect'. i made several attempts to start over from the beginning, but could never continue beyond that point.
then, thinking there was some kind of salvation for the protagonist to go back to 'abnormalcy' by the end of the story (this was hesse, dammit! HE couldn't disappoint me!), i forced myself to read the entire book from start to finish.
the whole exercise took me more than 3 years...but yes, it ended satisfyingly: with a mad ending. i could identify myself again with the not-normal, un-mundane protagonist.
'eye of the beholder' indeed. how true it is that we look at the world as a reflection of ourselves.
In the beginning, darkness was upon the face of the earth.
Then the Lord said, "Let there be Light!"
And there was!
what He saw in the brightness we don't know, but He was obviously not very happy about it. so He went about 'creating' (He was the progenitor of all us creative folks, I don't know where all you others came from).
what i DO know, was that He hated math as much as i do. why else would He say "Go fourth* and multiply"?
(*that's not a spelling mistake, in case you're wondering. i'll come to it later)
notice, the people He knew could multiply (e.g., mathematicians, accountants, businesspeople) He ordered to "Go" (away). from this it's quite evident that He loved the others and wanted them to stay (the fact that we, His beloved children messed up His garden is of course, OUR fault, and the reason He'd kick us out of it later, for even God can have limits to His tolerance).
why does God (and the majority of humankind) hate math?
"Mathematics is an EXACT science!" my dad (who taught math at university) used to chide me when i tried to solve my sums 'creatively' (the fact that my answers seldom matched up with what was printed in the text books, is another matter entirely).
to be more precise: 'Math is an EXACTING science'. it taxes you like nothing else in the world ('tax' being the only three-letter word which, as we all know, is a dirtier word than any four-letter word could ever hope to be).
...and why would it be safe to assume that God is responsible for our fear and loathing of math?
again, examine the command, and you'll notice that He was quite specific about which part of humanity should handle the numbers: the "fourth".
the other three quarters--the cadre of humanity i belong to--He didn't bother to allocate any particular task (that's the reason we still wander about, clueless about what we are supposed to be doing), or bestow with the grey cells that handle the squiggly-wiggly number-thingies.
if you're a normal human (as in 'not the bose-einstein variety'), stop feeling guilty about forgetting anniversaries, birthdays, telephone numbers and other such stuff that involve numbers, and being ‘all thumbs’ at arithmetic. remember, God loves you, and the fact that you have no head for numbers is actually A GIFT from Him.
go forth and party.
i'm interrupting my regular posts for a sad announcement: yesterday i got the news that riki, a very nice guy i knew, passed away a few days ago. it took me by shock because of 2 things in particular: his age (he was just in his thirties!) and the fact that he seemed to be on his way to recovery.
i didn't know riki well enough to tell you details about his life. in the short time i did, two things identified him very clearly in my mind: his constant cheerfulness, and get-up-and-go attitude. if not for the physical symptoms of the disease that ravaged his body, you wouldn't know he was suffering from constant pain and discomfort. that's the kind of guy he was.
i'm ANGRY and so i'll ask ANGRY questions.
how did riki die? from throat cancer
how did riki get cancer? Paan P****g paan masala (a very practical and wise person told me to replace the all-too-familiar letters with the asterisks if i didn't want to be sued. imagine an ape being taken to court!)
how long had he been hooked to this 'death-served-in-little-doses-in-little-packets'? not very long (how many years, how many packets does it take before it gets fatal?)
was riki innocent? certainly not (he wasn't an impressionable child when he acquired the taste for, and got addicted to the poison powder)
the film stars/celebrities who endorse the product?
the ad agencies that make it appear irresistible?
the corporate/business people who market it?
the manufacturer?
the government that doesn't deem it a cognisable offence and penalise them?
the society that complacently allows all this to happen?
you and me?
all of the above?The first thing I notice is the look on the woman's face: she is trying very hard not to cry.
They must be newly married, I think, although the lines on his face betrays his age. He is no longer young, and neither is she. The young man who is consoling her must be her younger brother, come to see off his brother-in-law.
The train horn sounds, and it begins to move. The man turns away from the group and clambers aboard. The young man grips the woman's hand, restraining her as she tries to follow the train.
The duo pass out of my line of sight through the row of windows as the train picks up speed, leaving the platform behind. The man stands at the door, waving at them until they are out of his sight too. He stays there, looking towards the station long after it has gone out of view.
The scenery outside slowly changes. Green fields and distant hills tell me that the train has left the town at which it had stopped far behind. The man navigates his way across the aisle and quietly comes and sits on the empty seat beside me.
The other passengers continue their chatter, sharing their snacks and their stories, their laughter and their complaints. Their bonhomie excludes this silent stranger, who looks different and obviously doesn't speak their language.
"Going to Kolkata?" I ask him in English, trying to meliorate the terrible loneliness I see on his face.
His expression changes instantly, a wide smile spreading across the deeply tanned features.
"Yes," he says. His eyes shine with relief and gratitude at my small offering of companionship.
From our conversation made up of broken fragments of three different languages, I draw out his story. He has been married for almost twenty years and the young man at the station was his son, now in college. Seeing the surprised expression on my face, he explains that he was married when he and his wife were both teenagers.
He used to work in the docks in his hometown, and has recently been transferred to the Navy Dockyard in Kolkata. He comes home every few months to spend some days with his wife and son. His economic situation and limited education prevents him from quitting his job and trying to find work closer to his home.
I comment about how I mistook him to be newly married because of the unmistakeably noticeable love he shares with his wife. He blushes and says that it has always been that way.
My heart grows warm and I smile inwardly, thinking how many people would give away everything they had in exchange for a love like that.
personally, i'm not a big fan of moss (the human variety). after all, wasn't it she who started all this 'size zero' mess more than a decade ago? i'm referring, of course, to kate.
...but it's not her fault, either. it's the fashion gurus who projected hers as the 'desirable body type' that led to the tragedy of the 'malnourished-by-choice' trend that is prevalent among young girls even today. imagine the destruction of so many lives because of the 'artistic' whim of a few self-absorbed individuals!
er... i seem to have strayed from my topic. what was it about? ah, the proverb that seemingly praises migration over settling, movement over stasis.
the question was: what's wrong with 'staying put', 'growing roots', 'settling down'? it is, after all, the sign of evolution, of progress. civilisation, society started when the stone-age hunters began to cultivate land and gather in settlements, rather than keep moving after the migrating beasts.
...which of course, led to the recurring themes of population explosion, necessitating further migration, finding new lands to settle, ad infinitum...
so it looks like stillness is vital--perhaps even more than movement--for growth in any of its myriad aspects.
you only have to think about the ancient sages who sat/stood still for years in meditation to attain their insights. for the more scientifically-minded, i'd point out the classic image of newton lazing under the apple tree.
MOVEMENT provides information/knowledge/experience
STILLNESS bestows awareness/wisdom/maturity
i'll elaborate on this topic in future (please feel free to provoke me if you have any comments) but there's something else i've been wanting to write about on this blog.
