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The Divine Key

Posted on Leave a commentPosted in Fable

 

The silence was eerie. The darkness was sinister. After his great feat, he had expected joyous celebrations, pompous gifts and that elusive key, his mentor had promised him. He was sure he would get the award of all awards.

 

His mind reassured him that the silence and the darkness were temporary. Therefore, he decided to wait…

 

He had lost count of time. He, however, realised a long period must have elapsed. He was not a person who let fate decide the course of his life. He carved his own future with grit and blood. He took matters in his hands and decided to find his way to the key.

 

He took a step.

 

Where were his feet? He had no feet! Yet, he had somehow moved. He was falling into an abyss that had a rough and rugged surface.

He raised his hands to break the fall, to stop!

 

Where were his hands? He had no hands! Yet, something disrupted his downward fall. He saw his body bounce up! He tried to swim through the air but, he could not feel his hands. Where were his hands?

 

Like shooting stars, arrows pierced his body. He tired as he may, but he couldn’t figure out the damage the arrows had done to his body. He widened his eye! Without hands, he couldn’t rub them. Then he figured out he had no eyes, although he had eyesight. He could feel the sight… But he couldn’t see.

 

Before he could deduce what was wrong with him, he was drowned in a coagulating liquid which had a pungent smell that he remembered. What was it? The liquid was suffocating him. He tried to swim out but, the lack of limbs had constricted him. Sadly the overwhelming smell of blood… Was it blood? He had smelled enough blood to recognise it. Strangely, he couldn’t smell. He had lost his sense of smell.

 

He thought he heard hoofs of angry bulls running towards him. But could he really hear them? Or were they only vibrations? He strained his ears to hear until he realised he had lost his sense of hearing.

 

Suddenly, like a pendulum, he swayed. He burnt in one end and drowned in another.  And then his body started bobbing in the viscose plasma that stifled him. Suddenly it dawned upon him that he could not feel anymore.

 

Bereft of his five senses, he tried to remain confident about his faith and beliefs. He tried to peer through the troubles.

 

What was wrong with him? He was frantic. He thought he was losing his mind until he realised he had lost his power to perceive and think!

 

But he was a warrior, he wouldn’t give up. Slowly he tried to reach this destination. The place where that divine key hung. His master had told him that he would possess the key when he performed that blessed feat.

 

He wouldn’t give up. He tried again until the momentum made him queasy. It made him retch, but, nothing came out. At that moment, he realised he had lost his body, yet, he felt it all!

 

The realisation struck him like lightning. He had lost his senses and his body. He probably was dead. It was only his soul that was facing all that torture.

 

He remembered what his master had said,
‘The blood of your non-believers will help him procure the key to heaven. That key would lead you to a penthouse of affluence and glory.’

 

He had killed a mass of innocent people to get that key. Where were the divine ushers? They hadn’t arrived yet! Didn’t his master tell him that the divine ushers would lead him to the angels and the land of opulence?

 

Robbed of a body and senses, what was that penthouse worth? Had he been fooled?

 

Although he was confused and scared,  he wanted his penthouse! He didn’t want to be a soul without a body. How would he enjoy those divine perks, otherwise?

 

There was a reason he had agreed to be a suicide bomber. He was promised the key to heaven by his master. Without a second thought, he had agreed to bomb them. But where was the key?

 

He was suctioned into a ball of fire. He was burning but not dying. Had he misunderstood his master? Was his fight against the infidels worth it?

 

Were they really infidels?

 

The jarring sound of the alarm woke him up. He was thankful he was still alive and blessed that he was not dead yet. He was honoured that life had given him a second chance.

 

Right then the alarm beeped a second reminder! He looked at his kit. The bomb would explode in the next hour. His master had given him the task to bomb a contingent on the move. His master had promised him that this act would lead him to the key that would direct him the penthouse called heaven.

 

He was in a dilemma. He didn’t know if he should forsake it all or give humanity another chance. But then the bomb beeped another urgent plea.

 

Trusting his master and ignoring his inner voice, in greed of that divine key, he wore the bomb and walked to his target – Death!

Blog article: Did Mahatma Gandhi Promote Violence?

Did Mahatma Gandhi Promote Violence?

Posted on 2 CommentsPosted in Soirée

Did Mahatma Gandhi promote violence? Did the man who promoted non-violence in the modern era, actually promote an act of violence?

These thoughts have been nagging me since I read an article on Facebook on Nathuram Godse.

The World Health Organization defines violence as “the intentional use of physical force or power, threatened or actual, against oneself, another person, or against a group or community, which either results in or has a high likelihood of resulting in injury, death, psychological harm, maldevelopment, or deprivation…” (Refer Wikipedia)

Mahatma Gandhi promoted non-violence by fasting. He also said that if a person slaps you, present him with your other cheek. He urged people to do Satyagraha by sitting out in the sun and protest against the British regime. Honesty, is that what non-violence means? Isn’t harming oneself a form of violence?

Mahatma Gandhi promoted masochism as a way of non-violence. But violence is not always external. It can also be internal. As a person who is born in a different era, and who has never met Mahatma Gandhi, it would be wrong on my part to blame Gandhi. He might not have realised what repercussions his conceptions would have on the nation as a whole. His method was effective enough to get India freedom. But at what cost?

There is a lot that India lost. But mostly, it came up with a generation that likes to shout slogans and waste time fighting over nothing. Agitation is a great way to go about making a change. But how about constructive agitation like they follow in Japan? What is better, to stop production in a shoe factory completely and sit outside the factory and shout slogans? Or is it more productive to make only the left shoe while agitating? In the first case, the workers waste time and sweat to get their demands fulfilled. In the second example, the workers never stop production. Therefore, when the shoe factory resumes functioning, the factory that has no shoes suffers huger loss than the factory that only produced the left foot of shoes.

It is possible, Gandhi never wanted the agitators to stop being productive. But that’s what his non-violent struggle has taught Indians. His kind of non-violence is a violence to the self (like fasting or going through the physical ordeal for a particular cause). It is a violence to the nation (where workers waste time and agitate) and violence to the whole democratic system. It’s time we review our concept of non-violence in India.

What appalled me the most, however, was what Gandhi’s assassination on 30 January 1948 did to the nation. The man who assassinated Gandhi was Nathuram Godse. His ideas were different from Gandhi’s. He shot Gandhi and surrendered, did not fight arrest. He did not fight ridicule. Godse accepted what came to him. He accepted it as his fate. Here are the excerpts on his final statement in 1948

.I do not desire any mercy to be shown to me… I did fire shots at Gandhiji in open daylight. I did not make any attempt to run away; in fact, I never entertained any idea of running away. I did not try to shoot myself… for, it was my ardent desire to give vent to my thoughts in an open Court. My confidence about the moral side of my action has not been shaken even by the criticism levelled against it on all sides. I have no doubt, honest writers of history will weigh my act and find the true value thereof some day in future.”

Nathuram Godse didn’t question the court’s decision. He did make an appeal against his death sentence. That’s all he did. As a citizen of free India, he exercised his right. I am sure he knew his death sentence wouldn’t be reversed. But he wanted to exercise his rights. Every citizen has that right.

It is 2018 now. Even after 70 years of Gandhi’s death, Nathuram Godse’s autobiography is banned. He is still disregarded by the people. People only remember him as a murderer. People have forgotten what a strong person he was. We have refused to learn from his honesty. Is Nathuram Godse given any importance in India? He only gets derision.

Sadly, the man who stood for non-violence could not preach non-violence. If he had done so, Nathuram Godse would not have been killed by law. He would have got a life sentence along with counselling.

The symbol of non-violence was the most violent man. Because he could not preach the goodness, compassion and forgiveness he so boasted of. Gandhi’s assassination led to riots. After his death, the one who assassinated him was hung to death. His books were banned. He was treated as a villain. Even after decades of the incident’s passing, we are as violent to Nathuram Godse as we were in 1948. Does any person deserve such aggression? I don’t think so.

Would Mahatma Gandhi agree with me?