Thursday, August 25, 2016

The world loves winners


The politicians of Haryana are vying with one another, irrespective of their party allegiances, to claim the credit for Sakshi Malik’s Olympic medal.  That’s the major advantage of being a winner.  When you laugh, the world laughs with you; when you cry, the world sneaks away in search of the next winner.  Politicians, being the direct descendants of bloodsucking leeches, will be the first ones to do that.  The chelas will follow loyally. And the whole world will applaud them along with the winner.

Never be a loser.  That’s the lesson, in short.  Otherwise, like L K Advani or Murli Manohar Joshi you get thrown out of the bandwagon even if you were its charioteer in your heyday. 

The world is as eager to forget the loser as it is to applaud the winner. 

Personally, winning or losing matters little to me.  I am a born loser.  There is no period in my life which I see as a winning phase.  There was always a winner eager to snatch my trophies.  I grew used to the process so much so I don’t expect victories in my personal life.  It’s good consolation: you are not buffeted by failures.  Yet I wouldn’t suggest this attitude to anyone.  Most of the time, you get what you foresee.  It’s better to foresee victories.  The world is not always hostile to you.  Not many people are ill-fated to be accompanied perennially by trophy-snatchers.   

I stand in awe of the winners.  I admire them.  And I console myself with Umberto Eco’s theory that “Losers always know much more than winners.” His argument is that the winner has to focus on one thing only.  The loser’s attention is spread across too many things.  Therefore “the pleasures of erudition are reserved for losers,” argues Eco.  “The more a person knows, the more things have gone wrong.”


Wednesday, August 24, 2016

The Sensitive Indian Patriot


Samuel Johnson was wrong.  Far from being scoundrels, we, the Indian patriots, are an exceptionally sensitive lot.  “As sensitive as the toilet seat,” I can hear the antinational prigs snicker.  The fact is that we care for Mother India.  We care for the Gau Mata.  That’s why we don’t tolerate the likes of Ramya, former MP and actress, who dare to say that “Pakistan is not hell.”  Tell me, how can a former Member of Parliament, make such a statement when she ought to know that the cause of all our problems is Pakistan?  Earlier that other actor’s wife said she felt insecure to live in India.  We told her to go to Pakistan along with her Muslim husband.  And now we have slapped a sedition charge on Ramya.  We are patriots, not scoundrels.  Our national sensitivity is offended when anyone says that Pakistan is not hell.  Our national pride is founded on the premise that Pakistan is our hell.

For light to shine, there has to be darkness.  Pakistan is our darkness.  India is heaven because Pakistan is hell.

All the antinationals in Hindustan must understand that the very reason for our existence as a nation is to hate Pakistan.  So anyone who refuses to denounce Pakistan is anti-India.  Even Sir Donald Trump endorses that policy.  Jai Hind.


Monday, August 22, 2016

Necessity of Hypocrisy


“I expect you to be sincere and as an honourable man never to utter a single word that you don't really mean.”  Alceste, the protagonist of Moliere’s comedy, The Misanthrope, utters these words in the opening scene of the play.  Alceste wanted a world of genuine people.  His desire was not as demanding as that of Jesus or the Buddha.  Yet Alceste became a comic character in the society while Jesus and the Buddha became gods.

Source
Alceste lived in the 17th century when the world was more complex than when Jesus demanded childlike innocence as the price of the ticket to heaven.  The Buddha had found it even more impossible to accept life’s absurdity than Jesus, let alone Alceste.  The Buddha sought deliverance in the nonexistence of nirvana while Jesus nailed his body’s abominable passions to the cross and thus delivered his soul from those passions.

Moliere’s Alceste is more human than these gods.  He eventually accepted the limitations of human nature.  None of us is wise, he says towards the end of the play.  “There’s some touch of human frailty in every one of us,” he realises.  And “every one” includes himself.

Alceste became a comic character while Jesus and the Buddha became gods.  Alceste could not have nailed himself to a cross.  Nor could he go through the living hell that the Buddha had embraced.  So Alceste learnt to accept the importance of compromise and condescended to become like the other human beings.  But he really could not become what he could accept intellectually.  He remains at a distance from the society at the end of the play.  Moliere ends the play leaving the hope to the audience that Alceste would eventually learn the fundamental lesson of life –  that hypocrisy is an integral part of human life unless you want to nail your body to a cross or live your life in a self-created hell. 

Let the preachers preach.  Don’t take them seriously.  You live your life.  As you wish so long as you know how to keep certain things secret from the society.  That’s what the preachers do.  That’s what Alceste will eventually learn and cease to be a comic character.



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