Idyllic Thoughts

Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan once defined Hinduism as "nothing more than the belief that truth is many-sided and different views contain different aspects of truth that no one could fully express." Truth. How can truth be truth if it has many sides and many aspects? May be there are many things which we cannot see, perceive or feel. Who knows all sides of the truth? Surely no one among us, though we believe we do. This misplaced belief that we are wise may have made us blind to the various sides of the truth regarding every aspect of our lives and beyond it. We are surrounded by mythology, traditions, folklore. Do these mask the original truth? Or do they really guide us towards the truth with hints and clues? No one can tell after all these centuries of a parallel universe with myths possibly clouding truth, intentionally or otherwise.

I am reading 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' by Harriet Stowe. Reading may not be the right word. I am drowning in it. I can see why this book literally brought a revolution in the Americas. It is a book for those ostriches who paint a rosy picture of America in their drawing rooms and extol the virtues of equality and fraternity, which they feel is not found in India due to its caste system. Both caste system and slavery are evils in themselves; the fact is people who thought themselves civilised and the rest of the world not so, should realise that civilisation does not exist in etiquette, dress and propriety in speech and manner, but in humanity, tolerance and kindness towards other humans. That is where some mighty kingdoms fell. Don't you agree?

"Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb, In life's early morning, hath hid from our eyes." Thomas Moore says it well. In the last three years, I have seen more than my share of death. I have seen the anguish it brings to the near ones, and the remorse. I have also seen dedication and love, which remained steadfastly even in the face of death. I just wonder. Why should we be born only to die some day? And with death vanishes our whole life, its experiences, cherished dreams, lofty thoughts and the wisdom from our mistakes. What is the use of it all?

My evening began on a sad note: I was hungry and wanted to eat Maggi. I then searched high and low for that elusive pack, which was the last one in our pantry, and probably in our town. Finally, I found it sitting snugly in the fridge, looking forlorn and lonely. I took it up and reluctantly poured its contents into boiling water, for my hunger had got the better of me. Then I set up the empty packet on the kitchen slab as a memento of a lost Maggian era. The cooked noodles was savoured slowly and reverentially, no one in the family willing to end it first. Now it has the place of a relic in all hearts, reminding us of the times when the snack made our evenings tastier and helped our mothers fill the bellies of their ever-hungry kids. 

I am the Princess of Gaffes. Once an unthought or unintended word or sentence springs out of my mouth seeking hospitable ears, I chase it vainly finally falling flat on my face, adding one more hair-line crack on my wafer-thin ego. Since childhood, my versatile tongue would decide that it will start working at the oddest of times, in the oddest of situations, rendering any apology or salvaging the ruins of my self-respect impossible. That's why I chose silence. It has brought me a sort of respectability among my peers, a studious countenance and a whispered rumour that I am intelligent and knowledgeable. I have borne these untruths with magnanimity and a silent satisfaction that can be often seen on the faces of bad actors who perch high on collective praises from fans whose grey cells can be counted on fingertips. 

If a destitute person, with no kingdom, no palace, no princely robes, no wife and no children, had wandered in search of life, sat beneath a tree and realised that desire is the root of all ills, would he have become a Buddha? May be. May be not. It took a Siddhartha to become a Buddha.  May be there are many Buddhas around us, a destitute or a prince, who bring awakening in others and light up their lives.

My country has been studied, interpreted, discussed and judged. Whenever I read something about India, I ask myself, 'Has this person, whether Indian or outsider, really understood my country?' I haven't yet arrived at an answer. Is it that difficult to understand a people? May be. May be not. Many 'celebrated' writers and thinkers have arrived at conflicting conclusions, and most of them are right in their viewpoint, but only in parts. No one has been able to comprehend the potpourri of contradictions that is India, wholly. And then there are some who have fallen headlong into the muck of prejudice against India -- the weight of a prejudice they themselves lugged along even as they set foot in the country for the first time and emptied here. They are helped in the offloading by some of our own. Our cotton-clad, agenda-pushing men & women go abroad, attend seminars, charity balls, write columns in 'first world' newspapers, and drown the voices of t...