Skip to main content

From Bhishma to Modi

 


“Do you really believe that you are a selfless person?” Draupadi asks Bhishma in my short story, The Autumn of the Patriarch. And the Patriarch of two kingdoms stands speechless before that question. What prevented Bhishma from seeing the adharma of what was done to Draupadi first by Yudhishthira and then by Duryodhana? What kind of dharma did this man, this great patriarch, practise? Draupadi contemplates. She recalled what he had done to Amba, Ambika and Ambalika. Just carried them off without even bothering to find out what their wishes were. And then gave them to another man as wives. As if women were commodities made for gratifying men’s varied pleasures some of which were as perverse as Bhishma’s when he carried them off like trophies. And when Amba faced problems one after another because of what Bhishma did, the great patriarch treated her as if she were a lump of cow dung. No, even cow dung gets more respect!

“Dharma is too subtle,” Bhishma tells Amba in my story. “Truth is simple,” Draupadi retorts.

This story which I wrote a few months after Modi became India’s Prime Minister in 2014 kicked my memory awake yesterday as I sat in a movie hall watching the Malayalam movie, Bhishmaparvam (Book of Bhishma). The movie has little to do with the mythological patriarch except that the protagonist, Michael (played by the inimitable Mammootty), shares certain characteristics like: he is the patriarch of a huge family with villainous characters (one of the villains being a Catholic priest who is treated rightly like scum from beginning to end), he is a bachelor pledged to look after dharma and won’t hesitate to kill for the sake of that dharma, he has been given the mandate as patriarch by his father, and he is good at heart even when he kills ruthlessly.

Draupadi in my story mentioned above accuses Bhishma of lovelessness. What is the meaning of selflessness devoid of love? Draupadi makes Bhishma think. But Michael in Bhishmaparvam has love in his heart. Maybe, Bhishma in the Mahabharata also had love in his heart. The problem with love is that it seldom walks hand in hand with truth. Love is blind. Truth has a 6/6 vision.

Is it possible to combine love and truth with one yoke? I often think people like Jesus died young because they realised the futility of trying to yoke those two things together.

Dharma leans more towards truth. But it cannot ignore love. The great patriarch has to walk the tightrope between truth and love. Tough. Bhishma managed it as best as he could, I should say though I never liked what he did to Amba. And Draupadi too. He did not exercise his heart enough, I think. Or was he a misogynist? Even Bhishma cannot be perfect, that’s all I know in the end. Even the incarnations of God had too many imperfections – irrespective of their religions.

 I mentioned Modi somewhere in the beginning of this post not without a reason. Not because I’m obsessed with Modi as some people allege. I found myself contrasting and comparing old Vyasa’s Bhishma with present India’s Modi. The latter is a ruthless bachelor with a single-minded dedication who kills love at every bend in the road for the sake of what he thinks is dharma.

What did Bhishma’s dharma achieve in the end? Even Krishna, an incarnation of God, shot murderous arrows through that dharma in the end. Treacherously too. Even God gives up dharma before love. Michael in Bhishmaparvam is more on the side of Krishna than Bhishma. Modi is on the side of Bhishma. But there is a big difference, a difference that snarls at me whenever Modi rises in my consciousness like he did this morning when my breakfast news reported that he has started a website, Modi Story, to advertise himself even more aggressively. Oh my God! How much should we endure in a lifetime! Amba would have found Bhishma too good in comparison. Forget Draupadi’s disrobing.


I did not like Bhishmaparvam. It’s just another cliched story of a benign patriarch adding to the entropy in our immoral universe.

Comments

  1. I am tired of how many things are invented just to praise him and barely any that question him

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. There are plenty of people who question him. But they're all silenced.

      Delete
  2. It's lovely to read your blog after such a long time. I agree, Modi stands out and I have a lot of respect for the gentleman.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Progressing from a nonexistent tea shop to the opulent Central Vista does call for attention.

      Delete
  3. Hari OM
    ...he may live as one, but Modi is most definitely NOT a bachelor. His wife, Jashodaben Chimanlal, is still very much alive and living on meager pension with her brother and sister-in-law. The analogy with Bhishma does Bhishma no favours! Modi sees himself more as some sort of mahatma, without having gone through any of the asceticism... YAM xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You said it. The man is personification of fraudulence. But people see a Messiah in him! I'm sure the hollowness will burst sooner than later with a terrifying boom... And India will be stunned by the emptiness of itself.

      Delete
  4. If self-serving can be called Dharma, then Modi is definitely following HIS Dharma with complete sincerity. Love (except for his chair) is something he does not appear to have come across in his life till date. As far as Bhishma is concerned, by combining his (so-called) Dharma and love (for the Paandavas), he allowed himself to be split into two with the heart being at one place while the body at some other one. Your article is an objective one. My one question for Draupadi - Is she sure that whatever she did in her life was righteous ? Did she never put any foot wrong ? Perhaps the thing that she could not understand that destiny repaid her in the same coin. We are too conscious about the wrongs done to us but become amnesiac when it comes to the wrongs done by us to others.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Entering into the Mahabharata is tricky. You don't know which side to take. Even the god in it is deceptive. I am like an ice skater when I touch the epic. Just on the surface. I'm obliged to you for raising these questions. I have endless questions too on all the characters in the epic. All said, that's a sign of greatness in the epic.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Sanjay and other loyalists

AI-generated illustration Some people, especially those in politics, behave as if they are too great to have any contact with the ordinary folk. And they can get on with whoever comes to power on top irrespective of their ideologies and principles. Sanjay was one such person. He occupied some high places in Sawan school [see previous posts, especially P and Q ] merely because he knew how to play his cards more dexterously than ordinary politicians. Whoever came as principal, Sanjay would be there in the elite circle. He seemed to hold most people in contempt. His respect was reserved for the gentry. I belonged to the margins of Sawan society, in Sanjay’s assessment. So we hardly talked to each other. Looking back, I find it quite ludicrous to realise that Sanjay and I lived on the same campus 24x7 for a decade and a half without ever talking to each other except for official purposes.      Towards the end of our coexistence, Sawan had become a veritable hell. Power supply to the

Thomas the Saint

AI-generated image His full name was Thomas Augustine. He was a Catholic priest. I knew him for a rather short period of my life. When I lived one whole year in the same institution with him, I was just 15 years old. I was a trainee for priesthood and he was many years my senior. We both lived in Don Bosco school and seminary at a place called Tirupattur in Tamil Nadu. He was in charge of a group of boys like me. Thomas had little to do with me directly as I was under the care of another in-charge. But his self-effacing ways and angelic smile drew me to him. He was a living saint all the years I knew him later. When he became a priest and was in charge of a section of a Don Bosco institution in Kochi, I met him again and his ways hadn’t changed an iota. You’d think he was a reincarnation of Jesus if you met him personally. You won’t be able to meet him anymore. He passed away a few years ago. One of the persons whom I won’t ever forget, can’t forget as long as the neurons continu

William and the autumn of life

William and I were together only for one year, but our friendship has grown stronger year after year. The duration of that friendship is going to hit half a century. In the meanwhile both he and I changed many places. William was in Kerala when I was in Shillong. He was in Ireland when I was in Delhi. Now I am in Kerala where William is planning to migrate back. We were both novices of a religious congregation for one year at Kotagiri in Tamil Nadu. He was older than me by a few years and far more mature too. But we shared a cordial rapport which kept us in touch though we went in unexpected directions later. William’s conversations had the same pattern back then and now too. I’d call it Socratic. He questions a lot of things that you say with the intention of getting to the depth of the matter. The last conversation I had with him was when I decided to stop teaching. I mention this as an example of my conversations with William. “You are a good teacher. Why do you want to stop

Uriel the gargoyle-maker

Uriel was a multifaceted personality. He could stab with words, sting like Mike Tyson, and distort reality charmingly with the precision of a gifted cartoonist. He was sedate now and passionate the next moment. He could don the mantle of a carpenter, a plumber, or a mechanic, as situation demanded. He ran a school in Shillong in those days when I was there. That’s how I landed in the magic circle of his friendship. He made me a gargoyle. Gradually. When the refined side of human civilisation shaped magnificent castles and cathedrals, the darker side of the same homo sapiens gave birth to gargoyles. These grotesque shapes were erected on those beautiful works of architecture as if to prove that there is no human genius without a dash of perversion. In many parts of India, some such repulsive shape is placed in a prominent place of great edifices with the intention of warding off evil or, more commonly, the evil eye. I was Uriel’s gargoyle for warding off the evil eye from his sc