A Tribute to the Greatest Socialist Ever

The greatest socialist ever

When the songs from muted hearts
Found no echoes from the rigid concrete walls,
And the pains of broken wings
Reverberated in but hollow dumb ears of power,
I heard the serene voice of a mortal.
The text books spoke volumes of his divinty
His sublimity and authority.
But never about his enchanting humanity.
Never about his all encompassing humility.
The son of the man!
You reside inside me naked,
Stripped from the stains of blood smelling crusades
And treacherous impositions on wisdom and justice,
Devoid of your celebrated miracles
And symbols that segregated people
Creating boundaries of filthy faiths,
Ever preaching but one message.
The one of love, sharing and tolerance.
That makes me a socialist.
And I owe to you that legacy.
Whatever power greed morons
And prophets who damned vision to dogmas
Will ever say and preach.
I love you and feel you
In each pulse that keeps me alive.

This might sound obnoxious to the “religious” christians -people who consider “god fearing” as a virtue. The only explanation from my part is that this is not for you. And perhaps will never be for you. For people who can’t use their own imagination and reason to decipher the metaphors that Christ spoke, to interpret and more than anything realize them, don’t have a right to be concerned. I’m least bothered about what is literally written in a book. Any book for that matter. I haven’t found any “divine” books either. When some mortals could write something, so do I have the right to (I don’t claim any greatness). It isn’t my concern whether people agree with me or not.

We (me and Yohan)had been discussing about Christ and Bible a while ago. It was an amazing revealation that a religious (not god fearing and church fearing) Christian actually shared many of my own views. Yes, that I consider, Jesus Christ as the first ever and greatest socialist. Of course, I know this owes some explanation. I am coming to it.

A prophet is the one who negated from his predecessor. Every Prophet (I mean a visionary who preached things relevant to that age). But a great prophet is the one who also added this phrase to his teaching that, the one will who succeed me too will negate from me. That humanity is not so static to end with a last prophet. Very few historical or mythological figures actually maintained such a view. It was first stated objectively after a deep study of history and sociology by Karl Marx. But sure Marx was never a prophet and never did he claim to be one. He was an academician who put across his analysis. A human being who could preach better values (with respect to the existing ones), speak aloud from intution or a sense of history and sociology, classifies to be a great prophet. Again, we are not talking about divinity here. The word can be better translated as a visionary who saw and thought about humanity beyond his period of existence. In fact, wasn’t this that Jesus exactly told the unimaginative people and his foolish disciples?

Well, you can certainly argue that there is no proof in Bible. But who made the Bible? It was not Christ so as to put across his thoughts exactly. But as a matter of fact, the Bible was collected (from writings of various disciples and other sources), debated and finally standardised 500 years after Christ. This process can be argued as a democratic election today – a perversion of the word democracy should I say. Because, it was the high priests who had tremendous power (in political and social circles) and posessed wealth, who finally decided each aspect of Bible to be taught, under Roman emperor Constantine. In no way were their Christ the common people’s prophet who lived in their hearts rather than as an authoritarian ruler who controlled their lives. Therefore, the claim of Biblical authority itself is meaningless to a large extend. Yes, I dare to say Bible is just like any other book. A biography which contains the biases of the writer. Of course, I’m not the authority to objectively substantiate my claim. This is just my opinion. The one I formed out of a bit of rational thinking and reading.

Let us talk about that Christ – the noble man who spoke in metaphors. The person who uttered words and parables which required essay type explanations for his disciples. Yet, they could never get into the heart of those sentences. When he said “let people who have eyes see and those with ears listen”, I wonder why it didn’t strike a chord in those intellectual pygmies. Let this not be imposed up on people and let only people who agree and realise, follow me – the simplest translation that I can possibly think about these words. And we saw crusades and new forms of crusifications. When Bruno was burned alive, I’m sure it was Christ who wept for him the most (as the son of man not GOD).

The sermon on the mountain -When he found people hungry and food hardly sufficient for a few people, I heard the bold voice of a socialist and not a mere pacifist. To share what is available with all. And all were satisfied. The idea of sharing, hitherto unknown to the western world, was first introduced there. Still you insult him proclaiming him to be mere mystic concerned only with the life after death. Your huge pilgrim structures stink! You still did a great job to speak about the wealth accumulated by Communists (although a hypocrisy, a fact for that matter). And yes, it was not just you alone. All symbols of faith rest on the pillars of sweat and blood of people who were forced to work for it. Slave labourers in the early periods and did you not find any Biblical statement condemning that? That we should believe he who went to common people and downtroddens, healing them, caring them, was a naive believer of a faith that GOD created them like and it was their fate but will fetch rewards in the other world. For whom are these facades? This is a fact with respect to every religion and I would never take side with any of them too. I feel disgusted to see “architectural monuments” for faith.

Jesus – The first person to take the side of a “whore” and retorted to those moronic hypocrites that let people who haven’t sin alone throw stones. And still, you couldn’t find a deeper meaning in that? When he sympathised with the prostitutes and tax collectors, the social out casts created by the same rotten social setup, didn’t you see the first feminist and genuinely rational human being? Remember, this happened in a time when a whore was invariably created by the male chaunistic social setup (even today for that matter) and women had absolutely no voice. Why is this still not viewed as a wonder, that it was more women who cried for Jesus? Even the wives and sisters of the Jews who wanted him to be crusified. And even today why does Christ live as a much more deeper emotion in women? Of course, the powers-that-be who can see sex as the sole purpose of women and those who still covertly imposes their dictums as morality, can never see beyond the literal meaning of the words he spoke and deeds he did.

He who only claimed to be the son of man was made the son of GOD, by you. When John the Baptist spoke about Jesus, it was equally meant for all his followers (“the one who will follow me will succeed me”). Still, with all the words he spoke, you could only create a church out of him. A rock structure. But he was the clear stream of water, the spring, coming out from the rock. It could quench anybody’s thirst. It was life giver in that sense and never a dogmatic set of rules which segregate a group of people from another proclaiming their supremacy. Did he ever proclaim the supremacy of his thoughts?

I still feel pride for that young boy who ventured out into the temple of those barbarians and negated from the thoughts of the previous prophet. Are you fools to believe that he never considered the possiblity that his own thoughts might be negated by the next one? When “eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth“, was replaced by “love your neighbour as you love yourself” and blind adherence to the ten commandments by “loving, realising and submitting to the will of the GOD“, didn’t you see a revolutionary? I could imagine such words with fire only from the mouth of a socialist revolutionary. An idealist who is against all forms of inhuman acts and one who stood for change (yes, this is my definition for a socialist). Christ was the greatest enemy of not the Roman empire (for all empires will have to fall one day), but the high priests of Judaism. And where did you stand, the self proclaimed authorities of his vision, when so much inhuman acts were done as wars? When more vicious high priests (as nation states and selfish economic powers)did the same thing and continue to do worser things, where do you place your foot at? He challenged and you impose (or speak nonsense when relevant issues come).

Last but not the least, Christ lives in my heart as my ideal of a socialist. A noble man, yet human in all aspects. I love that human Christ who spoke for the people and preached metaphors with indepth meanings. The one who dared to challege the most powerful authority of his time -the priesthood. And yes, above all the one who foresaw his death and still continued. He isn’t an unchallengable authority (he never wanted to be one), but the first one who inspired people to challenge (not just to revolt but also put accross alternatives) . There are plenty of words in your Bible speaking about faith. But I can never accept this to be the view maintained by him (I know it makes no difference, but this is my opinion). The person who abandoned the furious GOD of Moses and introduced a GOD which lives in our own heart and not in churches and temples – He was Christ.

I’m no theist, but surely love this mystic socialist who spread the message of love, sharing and tolerance. A mortal whose life itself is the best example for not submitting before ruthless authority. Oh, dear popes and high priests, I wonder when will you raise your head and tell the biggest devil of the day, Mr. Geoge Bush (and a big fool for that matter to think that he would succeed in his Project for the New American Century), that you are a burden to this world.

A Discussion

It was yet another nightout. A nightout discussion. Two aspiring physicsists and one aspiring mathematician on a row. Two with common tastes and one with a dimetrically opposite interest. Myself and Mayukh were the band of men with something in common; passionate about literature and interested in liberal arts. Ashutosh, as is always, a person who believes in logic and consistency.

Ashu started with his famous statement. “Sab bakwaas hai! Muje pata nahi ke log ye literature kyom padthe hai. Bahoot vague hai or ye galat baath hai….” The typical mathematician’s remark who consider a statement should only have one precise meaning.

The arguement went on and we touched very many charted and uncharted waters. But ultimately Ashutosh was struck at a point. “Is vagueness something really bad in all contexts?” And we said that it better to suicide if the whole world becomes purely mathematical. So disgusting! When the definitions of “beauty”, “love”, “consciousness” and “emotions” become precise and there is no margin of tolerance, I’ll better die.

“Godel’s incompleteness theoram” was the key. Mathematics is an exact science. Well, we do have some results which points to the shaky nature of some foundation pillars. Oh, I’m not an expert, neither did I feel Ashu was an expert in the philosophical implication of a physical law. But ultimately, we felt to be better off. Atleast we have raised our hands to open sky after “Quantum Behaviour” of matter was discovered. Non-deterministic physics sounds better to me. But kill the GODs first. We are not talking about them. Let them go to hell!

Four Men and a Bong on a Trip!

Finally we went to Mahabalipuram and Pondicherry yesterday. The discussions were on from the very first day of our Summer Project. But every weekend before had the same story to tell. Work, fever or out of the mood. Fortunately, there weren’t excuses for this saturday and everybody was desperate for a hangout.

Imagine, four guys and a Bong (Bengali, with no offense meant) going to a historical place and then to a typical anti-socials’ destination. Puneet, Kapish, Ashutosh and me -the anti-socials and Shailadithya – the typical “slow” running old time piece, always in a contemplating mood. Mahabalipuram (Mamallapuram) temples were interesting atleast to me and Shailadithya (Bongs and Mallus have a lot in common starting from a strong parallel movie culture to Marxist party! Perhaps, this is not a mere co-incidence too). But I agreed more with Ashutosh (the aspiring mathematician and a worshipper of logic) about the concept of cave temples. To quote his argueably uncouth remarks, “This is simply bull shit. Fuck the kings who did these. It stings -the product of slave labour for years and that too for something worthless. And people say Shahjahan built Taj Mahal for Mumtaz as the symbol of his love. He did for his dick! What right do they have to torment some people just to satisfy their fucking fancies? ………. “. I don’t know when did Ashutosh actually became a follower of Bertold Brecht! He hasn’t even heard about marxist ideology. Nevertheless, I agree with it. Inflicting pain on hundreds or perhaps thousands to satify an ego is no great deed. The credit, if at all it has to be given, should be to the unknown sculptors. Not to the almighty kings.

The next destination was what we had longed for. The heaven for “drunken bastards”! Nobody was really interested in visting “interesting” places. Just feel light, roam arround the beach and preserve valuable alcohol inside our stomachs was the sole motto. A noble one of course. We (myself, Puneet and Ashutosh) consumed 7 bears and 7 pegs of hot drinks altogether. Imagine, the alcohol which would have “corrupted” three or four other noble indiviguals! A satisfaction of having done a social service.

Kapish was in a shopping cum bird watching mood while, I frankly do not know the mood of our dear Bong. Once we were on the lighter side, it was again the unending discussion and disclosure session. There weren’t any shocking relevations yet interesting ones where there. Ashutosh let the cat out of the bag during the final hours we spent at Pondi. A romantic album worth Rs. 150/- (oh, an amount worth 3 pegs of Bacardi and some good food!)was purchased to gift someone. I call this a sacrifice. Great man! Hmm, but we all know that someone. And today it happened. Best of luck man!

The return journey was tormenting. Quite slow as compared to the forward journey. Or was it because world went too slow for us? Anyway, we reached back by 3:00′O clock early morning. Yet another complete nightout for me. In fact, the fourth one in a row.

The trip was enjoyable to conclude. Perhaps, we would like another hangout to satisfy the “carnal desire for alcohol intoxication”. The next time we are sure to have another Bong as replacement. Mayukh is ready and couldn’t come this time because of Jaundice. Well, plenty of time is left before we leave Chennai.

A Translation Attempt

I translated my best malayalam poem (as per friends’ opinion). Well, it is a love letter (wrote in 2004, March). I do not consider myself to have done justice to own language. Translation is an aweful task. Malayalam version is very much better. I feel so! Obviously, this is not the claim of a poet, but just an interested scribbler- me. Still, I managed to do this!

FIRST LOVE LETTER

Dear Emilda,

I’m incomplete.
I longed for your incompleteness,
Throughout my quest for the completeness.
In those verses you scribbled with silence
And those orphaned phrases that bleeded,
And in sobers from some unknown constraints,
I searched for a few serene dew drops of love.
Without our consent.
Perhaps, even without mine.
Today, when I miss your presense,
When you haunt my soul
As an unanswered riddle,
Singing in a rhythm that arouses my pangs
I realize that I loved you.
My love always resided like the touching harmony
Of Yaman Kalyani,
A melody that flowed from the depths of a mute.
Never did our eyes get locked at each other.
Never did we speak with shivering, cold lips.
But never can I throw you
Into that dark forgettable wastebin of memories.
You glow like a splinter, yet burning my soul.
Perhaps, these bruises and its pain make my love.
When words of Neruda and Marcquez prick me
I know, it will be you; knocking at the my door.
With sadistic pleasure you refresh my wounds.
And with time you will be my synonym,
For wounds, for pangs and above all for love.

The Frontiers

Frontier – I wonder about this word. An international boundry or undeveloped area or field for discovery or research, as per dictionary. In fact, are they necessary evils. Or evils which exist out of the primarily selfish human psyche. Sygmond Freud should happy to believe the latter version.

When abstractions give way to concreteness, rigidity increases and fortresses crop up. Philosophy is considered as worthless subject by many people. Especially by the people belonging to the applied science clan. A clan which still has not thought about “de-construction”(Fortunately, I no longer belong to that clan. A big relief!). But the issue cannot be left as a diversity in thought. The notion of nationhood, state, religion and even cultural identity depend on the frontiers drawn by mortals. Might be out of the necessity in their period of existance. But more often as desperate measures to safe guard the power. Frontiers are more often constructions of the powers-that-be, who demand mechanised behavior to consciousness, uniformity to diversity and above all, mute servility to critical thinking. The question whether we actually need frontiers is rarely allowed to be discussed.

The only optimism is that science has served the purpose of lifting the plane of thoughts from naive observations and compartmentalised solutions to abstract knowledge. Abstractness with a margin of creativity that can sustain human life, is the best answer to the iron fences of human ignorance and at times selfishness. Spirit of science rather than science as an entity, should perpetuate to the masses. This forces me to believe that more frontiers are eminent. For the cult of “technology worship” has became the symbol of human race today. Unless a paradigmn shift in social perspective (which has only rare chances) happens, “narrow domestic walls” will crop up. More and more invisible walls. Where you can see the other side if you really care, still cannot realize them and breaking almost impossible. The important question is whether science be able to repeat history. Can it raise the level of abstraction in human thought and take humanity to a new phase of enlightment. A new theory.

The Gods of the day;
Holy mortals of complexity.
Your dumb and mute facades sting.
Your wrath to wisdom,
To questions that shake the your edifices
Bleed as wars and famines.
Still should I worship you?
Still, should I serve you like a slave?
Still, should I kill,
Be part of the “collateral damages”?
I hate genesis.
For the God drew the frontiers.
And forbide many a fruits of justice.
But I hate you as much,
For you enlarged the scope
And extended original sin.
Let me be, the Adam
And challenge your frontiers.
For every rustle of a leaf
Carries the wisdom of Eve.

My First Blog!

Yes, finally this is up. I always wanted to have a blog page, but did not sign up untill this point. Laziness – the major pre-occuapation and minor pre-occupations like reading, surfing and still lesser, learning, were the major hurdles. Utilmately I have entered the community of bloggers. It feels good.

Oh, the important question what should I write? Well, there is nothing in particular that comes to my mind. Or a lot of things come to the mind yet in feeble voices. You have to have a strong motivation to write something good. Nevertheless, we (Summer students at IMSc) were discussing a lot of things these days. Philosophical dilemmas! Whether to live or not, Meaning of life and …… blah blah. Floating from one topic to another. It suddenly occured to me that some thought should be given about those topics. Of course, when we discuss we never think! OK, I just spent some time alone and floated in my thoughts. Yes, there was a conclusion. At least, for the moment.

Life

Lying in a cossy bed of imagination
When the lullaby of hopes
Amplifies to a deafening silence.
And the sweet melody of existence
Fades to enigmatic muffled voices,
It pervades till my eternity.
As breath, as pulse, as jerks.
Until that brink of time,
The last wink of my eye,
I love living with this rhythmic chaos,
In this battle field of civilized brutes
To dream, to explore to fight
And never ever to submit.