Let's Pull Down The Pedestals!

I am thinking. What will be the world like, if we all pull Jesus, Krishna and Gautama Buddha down from their divine pedestals and 'de-deify' them - a world where they will not be treated as gods or god-incarnates, but just as men of exemplary qualities and supreme wisdom who lived once upon a time and whose divinity is nothing more than the mist of Time that puts them at a distance from us? 

What will be the world like when we all stop worshiping them and start - or, at least try - emulating them? Just imagine - a sea of humanity that is filled with all god-like beings, everyone in love with everyone else, everyone respecting everybody else, everyone in peace with him/herself and the whole of Existence around, everyone awake and everyone aware! 

Imagine, billions of gods (and goddesses) walking upon this planet! What stops us from aspiring to be like those supreme beings instead of merely putting their highest wisdom into narrow compartments of religion, and quarreling in their name?!

The Buddha In Traffic

Often, while I get stuck in the traffic, amidst the loud-honking, rule-breaking, free-spitting, live-cigarette-throwing morons, I ask myself this question to lessen my annoyance - What would the Buddha do when he gets stuck like this?

I used to tell myself that even the Buddha would lose his composure and feel the rage. But reading through the Dhammapada has cleared that 'doubt' of mine. He wouldn't have bothered. That's because there is a world of difference between us. His world was of the inner realm, whereas I am still mired in the external appearances. He is all peace and bliss, whereas I am all mundane and materialistic. His peace emanates from his very being, just the same way the Sun is his own source of energy. My peace is derived from my external possessions. He is a Paradise himself, whereas I am, stuck in this cage of decaying flesh, trying to form my own versions of 'peace' and 'happiness'.

 To sum it all up and to answer myself, He would have walked. Uncaring for all the mundane aspirations and senseless haste that we have weaved our lives with, the Buddha would have walked. For, he is already Home, whereas I am not even on the path yet!

Whenever there is an opportunity to bash the cops - of course, only verbally - and their moral fabric, all of us pounce on it and make the most of it, because they are one of the favorite punching bags, alongside politicians, for an increasingly corrupt society to pin all its unjustified sense of indignation on and to feel a sense of sanctimony. While the politicians may have sailed past the stages of salvation, the cops once in a while prove that they are as human - and humane - as the next human being. Today I got the chance to see one such an instance.

I just took the late night's bus service to reach the railway station. With me some cops also boarded the bus. Almost all of them were female cops, with one or two male ones among them. And, it was obvious that all of them have only recently joined the service - young, tired but enthusiastic, as the demands of their jobs haven't taken a toll on them yet.

They all took their seats here and there and settled into the gossip of the day's evening. A couple of stops later, a group of women boarded the bus. Some of them old, two of them mothers carrying their toddlers in their arms. The lady cop who was just sitting next to them was a very young girl. She was visibly exhausted from all the day's work at the grueling heat of Chennai. With a  small, fresh wreath of jasmine flowers adorning her hair, she could have been mistaken for a school student, were she wearing civilian clothes instead of the uniform, but let me not digress.
The moment this young cop saw the women, she didn't wait, she didn't think, she didn't talk. She simply got up from the seat, gave her seat to the woman with the toddler. Seeing her, the male cop, who was sitting in the seat across, also got up from his seat and gave his seat to the other woman.

Our lady cop, got a free seat by the next stop and the first thing she did was to lean on the window pane and sleep, with all the fatigue of the day visibly telling on her.

Witnessing all this, while most of the able bodied men didn't even make a show of getting up and the young lady cop showing the very basic and yet the rarest of human courtesy, I felt this - cops are neither good nor bad. They are just as human - and humane - as we are. :-)

Eulogy – Dr.APJ Abdul Kalam (1931-2015)

I am looking all around me, searching for a sign of histrionics. There are no women from lower rung of the society wailing, beating their bosoms and rolling in the dirt. There are no signs of men, in an inebriated state, holding to the pictures of their beloved leader, crying and tearing their hairs. No shops were forced to shut down today. No buses were stopped. No public property damaged. No sign of the social activity being impacted in any way by his death. Yet, beneath this veneer of calmness, this nation is silently mourning one of her most special sons – Dr.APJ.Abdul Kalam. A mere mention of this name, and everybody is ready with a word of pride, an appreciation, and a sense of glum descending their face. Social networking sites are rife with his images and quotes – some of them not really uttered by him. A mere glance at your contact list in WhatsApp, and you see a lot of friends having changed their Display Picture to that of Mr.Kalam.
 

What makes him worthy of such adulation? When was the last time a nation, the whole of it, together mourned the death of one of its leaders? In my brief life, I have seen people mourning the death of the political leaders, leaders of their favorite political parties and religious sects. Others used to issue a formal statement of condolence and that was all there is. Of course, some hooligans use such occasions to let loose their vandalism and loot public properties too. But today, there was no such show of sorrow, and yet, all of us feel that pallor of death as if they had lost a relative of their own. Why so?
 

There may be many reasons, but to my limited wisdom, it feels that he became great because he remained humble. Starting his life from a nondescript coastal town in a distant Southern corner of the country, he silently worked his way up to become the First Citizen of the county. He didn’t let his humble economic background clip his wings. His religion was never a hurdle for him to face. In a nation that is increasingly facing the colors of religions painted upon her, he remained clear of all such vile. He was pious, but never wore his religion on his sleeves. In fact, people from all religious, social and economic background loved him. He never let his name be affiliated by any narrow party ideals either.
 

Our generation had only heard the deeds of the likes of Gandhi, Nehru, Patel, Azad, Prasad, but never had the chance of having a true leader, who could unite the minds with his sheer brilliant presence. Mr.Kalam was one who filled that void. He belongs to the era, where people owned responsibilities instead of merely whining about their rights, people lived by ethics and morals instead of preaching them and people held on to their core principles even in the face of difficulties. Mr.Kalam was a man of integrity, be it at a personal level or a social level.
 

It is said that even to die well one should have earned a good karma. How else could he have breathed his last?! He wasn’t confined to bed, he wasn’t taken away by illness, senility and atrophy were definitely not for him. He breathed his last, doing what he always loved the most – being a teacher, interacting with the young minds. He was a worthy teacher and will remain a worthy role-model for more and more of Indians to come.
 

Rest in peace, sir! You have done more than your fair share for your motherland. Rest in peace!
 

Ashok Kumar

So Near Yet So Far - The Curse (?!) of Smartphones?

A couple of days ago, happened to notice a sad sight at the restaurant, during lunch. On the table next to me were four people - a couple and two children. All through the course of the meal, the couple were discussing some family gossip, while the children were both stuck to their smartphones with the headphones on, paying no heed whatsoever to one another. If they weren't sitting in the same table, or if they were seen in a different setting like a bus or park, you would have thought of them as strangers and not as belonging to the same family. It was only when they were leaving did they all speak to one another.

Similar to this was another incident when I had a couple of youngsters share the table with me in a restaurant. Only when it came to paying the bill did they talk to one another, having been immersed in their mobile phones all through the supper.

Are we becoming addicted to technology to the extent of letting it dominate our lives? Are we moving farther from the people close to us while trying to stay in touch with those far away?!

To recall the words of an old person, who once spoke to me during a train journey and sadly said, "During our days, we used to talk to strangers in the journey. We used to form friendships, some of which went on to stay for a long time. But you young people these days plug your ears with headphones, glue your eyes to phones and stay aloof from others. You are all growing further apart than how it was during our days. No wonder the society is filled with troubles and hatred!'

A Pagan Dawn

The calm walk of this morning, accompanied by the voice of Jagjit Singh, while watching the rising

of a nascent Sun that was yet to garb the mantle of the oppressor, brought to mind an old thought - Am I not part of this Universe, a chanceful coming together of the various elements of Nature? 

You may be a religious person that believes in the 'atma' (soul), or a science buff who prefers the 'atoms', but you cannot deny the fact that we are all compositions of the elements of Nature. 

Re-realizing that I am one such a chanceful composition sent goosebumps through my spine. Being kept alive by the Air, cooled and comforted by it, held by the Earth, nourished by all the food that grows in it, bathed and quenched by the element of Water, nourished by all the sights and presence of the Space, warmed and lighted by Fire, to be finally fed to it when 'I' am gone, am I not a part of Nature herself - born of her, brought up by her, finally dissolving into her when the Fire will accept me back?!

No wonder the Pagans preferred to worship Nature. I am even starting to believe that they must have been early-risers!

Erotic Literature or Love Poetry?

A few days back, I had written a post denouncing a book by Khushwant Singh as cheap erotica. A friend of mine caught up with me offline and during the discussion over my writing and poetry, we wandered over to that post. My friend said that I cannot just like that wave away the works of a great author like him. Moreover, my friend was of the opinion that since I have never ever read any erotic literature I am not supposed to write it off as cheap. And, my friend suggested the book 'Electric Feather' to sample that genre.

Sorry, my friend. I still remain displeased with that genre. In fact, I can even use the word 'disappointed'. This book has nothing new that Paulo Coelho, in his own plagiaristic manner, didn't write in 'Eleven Minutes' or 'Adultery'. There is nothing different from what Taslima Nasrin, in her pseudo-feminist hypocrisy, did graphically depict in 'The French Lover'. This is in no way different from what most of the 'modern' Indian writers, in an urge to garner the attention of the adolescent readers, do puke with their pens and spell out in obscene terms. This book causes as much revulsion in me as I first felt when I stumbled upon the writings of one 'Chandilyan' during my formative years.

More than halfway through the book 'Electric Feather', which is a compilation of erotic tales, I feel no thrill, no emotional pulls, no bliss springing in my being, as I feel when I read the love poetry of a Gulzar. Stripping down the man-woman relationship - literally - down to the mere union of the physique is not amusing in any way. Mere copulation, for the sake of it, is as revolting as excreta.

Love is what is worthy. Lust, when it is not within the bounds and privacy of love, is ugly. There is more thrill, more pull, and more addiction in love than in lust. Erotica still remains a third-grade and avoidable genre for me. Sorry, my friend.

Love is, indeed, more inebriating than lust!