Morning Musings

“Nothing is more unjust, however common, than to charge with hypocrisy him that expresses zeal for those virtues which he neglects to practice; since he may be sincerely convinced of the advantages of conquering his passions, without having yet obtained the victory, as a man may be confident of the advantages of a voyage, or a journey, without having courage or industry to undertake it, and may honestly recommend to others, those attempts which he neglects himself.”(Samuel Johnson)

In many discussions in person or in Blogs, the subject of practising virtue, conscientious conduct has been sworn upon. We have deprecated the contrary virtues. Decried hypocrisy, sworn on morality and ethics .Lamented at the state of affairs of the society and the country at large. It s indeed a bad bad world out there we have cried!

We have severely admonished the fanatism coexisting with faiths. Wondered how man can be cruel as they are to other living things. Promiscuity and immoral conduct has been castigated. Corruption by the Suresh Kalmadi’s has been ridiculed and deplored with severity. Honesty has been voted as the urge that drive us. Avarice and lust for ostentatious life has been frowned upon and seen as qualities that can be done away with. Patriotic fervour bordering jingoism brings together people on every 15 th of August.

We have expressed outrage and sounded indignant of all that is bad out there. Why are people hypocrites? Why can’t we be honest, virtuous, ethical and practise those qualities rather than preach- we have asked in anguish. These have been the general summation and ask.

The inner question is how many of us will show mental prudence and strength of character in a situation where the demand for the antonym of hypocrisy is fervently asked and needed?

Is it not that decadence set deep in each of us in varied ways? And it is only that we trumpet to the contrary?

To Dogs and their Human Companions

Sitting brooding yesterday, I happened to read some poetry.Not a regular habit though! And this pick posted here is one which I feel has no peer,amongst the many lyrics and poetry written on Dogs.This wonderful piece by   Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto is special . I guess opinions may not differ much. A Dog has died My dog has died. I buried him in the garden next to a rusted old machine. Some day I'll join him right there, but now he's gone with his shaggy coat, his bad manners and his cold nose, and I, the materialist, who never believed in any promised heaven in the sky for any human being, I believe in a heaven I'll never enter. Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom where my dog waits for my arrival waving his fan-like tail in friendship. Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth, of having lost a companion who was never servile. His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine withholding its authority, was the friendship of a star, aloof, with no more intimacy than was called for, with no exaggerations: he never climbed all over my clothes filling me full of his hair or his mange, he never rubbed up against my knee like other dogs obsessed with sex. No, my dog used to gaze at me, paying me the attention I need, the attention required to make a vain person like me understand that, being a dog, he was wasting time, but, with those eyes so much purer than mine, he'd keep on gazing at me with a look that reserved for me alone all his sweet and shaggy life, always near me, never troubling me, and asking nothing. Ai, how many times have I envied his tail as we walked together on the shores of the sea in the lonely winter of Isla Negra where the wintering birds filled the sky and my hairy dog was jumping about full of the voltage of the sea's movement: my wandering dog, sniffing away with his golden tail held high, face to face with the ocean's spray. Joyful, joyful, joyful, as only dogs know how to be happy with only the autonomy of their shameless spirit. There are no good-byes for my dog who has died, and we don't now and never did lie to each other. So now he's gone and I buried him, and  that's all there is to it.                                      Pablo Neruda

Self Portrait Sunday 10 th Oct 2010

I have been seated by my Lap top since sometime. I had the TV on with the cricket test match, but soon I switched it off. And now after quite a few minutes, is fiddling with the key board. Nothing seems to be coming forward in mind in a coherent manner so that I could put down.

Getting late this morning and after a dash to the fish mongers from whom I bought a kilo of mackerels, I m now seated by the computer. The morning dosas were good. Food has always been, except during the dreary period of viral fever a few weeks ago.

 C has gone out and here I m alone!

I went through the Blogs, and shot off a few comments. But still I cannot stumble into something to put down in words. The mind is either void, or in suspended animation. It is sine die! Know not!

Perhaps it may be incorrect to say that nothing comes into the mind. In fact is it not that mind is too full, weighed with matters?

Mood swings? I was discussing the topic with C and a few other friends.”Well that state of mind happens to women at the threshold of menopause”, was the   vox populii, and laughter ensued. I forced myself to join the jest.

I m now looking out through the window, I cannot see the path way to the gate as there is a bend in the path way down, and now the trees are grown with luxurious foliage, eclipsing the way farther. It struck a chord, seemed to be frighteningly similar, the way forward seems to be incomprehensible.

Now it is almost mid day and nigh impossible to gaze at the stars and dream of the way forward through the undergrowth, the thick dark foliage, through the unknown, the strange and incomprehensible, and into the lands beyond. The later part that life now is,cannot be inhibiting.It should not be a factor to weigh down. And dream one must,the stars would soon be out to lead the way...!

Morbidity

When the mind is morbid, thoughts that are pleasant seldom occur

The wonder that things around are,are seldom seen.

In fact the wonder that things around are,

were placed for us –

to untangle from the embrace of  morbidity of the mind!

Isn't it so?

Kannadasan

The irony and contradictions of life  as noted many times over in  his powerful verses,
The late Tamil lyricist and poet Kannadasan
 Here is one which is quite thought provoking,

( I note this in the traditional Roman letters as this computer dose not help in typing it in Tamil)


"Buddhi ulla manitharellam vetri kanpethille,
Vettri petta manitharellam budhishali allai".

Unique India

So eventually it turned out to be a damp squib, the security beefing and the judgement of the Allahabad High court itself. The anticipated, violence, acrimony, and all the fun and anarchy only India can provide and enact to perfection did not take off. The Gods were unkind it just did not materialise.

But we have few other fascinating facets over the week that can be relished. The Allahabad High court has pronounced a judgement that takes back society to the medieval times, when it was believed that the earth was flat and the sun and stars went round our planet.Our learned legal minds have ensured that a matter of pure legal dispute over the title to a piece of land can been decided by the predominance of faith, theology , belief and myth. Not reason or historical evidence. Archaic in every sense! History has been given a burial. Historical evidence has been superseded by matter of faith. The dispute has been settled like a family court award.

Now our children can rewrite their history lessons. A Hindu mythical god Ram (Raman or Rama) now has been provided a stature and historical sanctity like that has been rightfully given to historical figures like Christ, The Prophet Muhammad, Buddha, or Confuscious.The court has decreed that Ram was born under the dome of the demolished mosque in Ayodhya. They have not specified the year, whether it is in the pre-Christian era or later. The Christian church at least endorses the view that the World was created in BC 4657, they only have to specify which month, week and date.

Such kind of travesty can happen only in India. Where pure belief, faith and obsession with myth can write or rewrite history. Only time can tell, if many of us will have to go back to school and re learn and read the contemporary version of history. Where a Napoleon or a Karl Marx may be myth and the pantheon of Gods would be historical reality.We Indians will have a unique distinction, and it is that, after the Zionists it is we who have deftly used  myth and legend to create legal title and right over a piece of land.

Now that the fascinating judgement has been given out, we can only hope and wish that the archaic Common wealth games will provide further thmasha and fun and can be the icing on the Indian cake.

Mirage

I had a dream and, I saw it was a mirage!

I woke up and saw the sunlight and wondered if that was a mirage too.

I walked out and saw the mirage and wondered if that was real.

So I came back in and slid into slumber,

And thence I saw, all that I saw was mirage,
 but yet I refused to accept they were so.

Oh what a fool am I ?