Parte Prima..

The times were different. It was a different era, a different generation altogether and pride mattered more than one's own life. A time where loyalty once pledged to your sword was worth more than your life. Such were the times, such were the people and such was their pride. As they both stand facing each other for the great duel, for the final faceoff, they realized the final truth: There is only one winner, Only One. As they both prepare themselves for the final clash, they close their eyes, let this harsh reality sink in and in a silent prayer to god, pray that they end up on the winning side.

The crowd is standing and gazing in pure awe, on a dusty afternoon, the fate of these swordsmen will be decided. One will bite the dust, while the other crowned victorious. The atmosphere was intense and the silence maddening. Both the swordsmen wait for the other to make the first move, the first strike. Both were skilled, their blades sharp, their senses alert and both fought for pride and glory. Both sought immortality in the annals of history as the greatest that ever was, that ever will be. Both brave and fearless and equally fierce and strong. The hour was finally upon them and the long waited duel finally began. Everytime their swords crossed, they made a distinct clanging noise, a noise which the people and history will remember for a long long time. Sparks flared and with every strike the atmosphere intensified. They were relentless and determined. Slowly the silent crowd started to get noisy. It wasnt the noise of people cheering. It was the noise of distraught screams, of people who were in despair. Women screaming in despair to stop the fight, to put an end to this madness. Slowly other men joined in too. They could no longer stand the horror that they were witnessing. They could no longer stand and witness this pride driven insanity. Some fainted while some cried in agony. Such was the battle, such was the intensity.

Even though it has hardly been 20 minutes since it all began, it feels as if the 2 swordsmen have been locked in this duel for all eternity. Victory was still not in sight and both refused to give up or give in. Both have their bodies cut and are bleeding, but still refuse to stop. Its as if they had pledged to see the other person die. Till the very last drop of blood oozed out of their already bleeding bodies, they will not stop. Now nothing can make them stop, but death. Their vision was blurred and their hands shivering. May be this was the effect of blood loss, may be not. May be it was the hot summer afternoon playing its tricks, may be not. May be it the fear of death, fear so deep rooted in their minds, may be not. May be it wasnt a feeling anymore, may be it was the truth. By now 45 minutes had already passed by. Someone from the crowd screamed in shear shock "Is this even possible for 2 men to be fighting for almost an hour now and not be dead ?? " This caught their ears. Their expressions changed. The stopped the duel, momentarily, stood with their blood covered blades and let this feeling of their dreams turning true sink in. The crowd stood still, unable to comprehend this sudden change. Then to their horror they saw smiles across the faces of the swordsmen. The previous omnious silence returned, the crowd was silent again.

They now knew that this was probably how it was going to come to an end. They looked upto the sky to see the sun blazing down upon them and felt as if it was smiling upon them, smiling at their foolishness, at their insanity, at their false pride. It didnt matter anymore. They knew that the next blow will bring down the curtain, on their gruesome duel as well as on their lives. Yet they move forward with renewed vigour and valour and cross their swords to strike the final blow. By now, the ground turned red, it was blood all over and the air filled with its stench. It smelt putrid, it smelt like blood. Neither moved. None spoke. Their grips on their swords loosened and one blade hit the ground, followed by the warrior. The vibrations made by this loud noise were deafening. The other warrior smiled, let go off his heavy sword and fell on his knees. He was still profusely bleeding, oozing blood from every visible pore on his sliced body. The crowd was now furious about the final outcome. His sword caused the death of a young hero. The fallen warrior was only 15 years old, a child prodigy.

Amidst all the anger, one small child walked forward to the victorious one and offerred him some water to drink. Even though the child stood in front of the warrior with a pail of water, he could not reach for it. He could not see the generosity and the innocent of the child. The crowd was now shocked at his arrogance, at his pride. The child then realized a shocking truth. It was not his pride that blinded him, neither it was his arrogance. He was truly blind. He was the legend that the people spoke of. He was the folklore, the warrior whom people had only heard in tales narrated by travellers from far off lands. He was the "Blind Swordsman."

While people stood in a state of utter shock, he too fell onto the ground. Alas, even a legend could not cheat death. This "Parte Prima" made them immortal, in their own different ways.

A Futile Dream !!

Couple of years ago, when i was still doing some soul searching, completely disillusioned by the ongoing and never ending atrocities in my homeland, i stumbled upon "Geetanjali" written by Guru Rabindranath Tagore. it brought me peace, some tranquility to my troubled self and most imortant of all, it gave the courage to hope amidst all things worse. Tagore, being the staunch patriot he was, wrote some beautiful lines about India and his hopes for India.. I must admit that this peom still remains as one of my eternal favourties..

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;

Where knowledge is free;

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Where the mind is led by thee into ever widening thought and action

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake

No matter how many times i read these few lines, i still cannot stop myself from contemplating whether these few lines will ever come true, whether Tagore's vision of India will ever see daylight, will his dream be ever realized. On this eve of 63rd Independence day, i still am searching for that dream to come true. somewhere amidst all this pessimism, these few lines force me to find hope and believe in that invisible hope. but then sometimes i think, is this hope all in vain.. Was Tagore wrong in envisioning such a wonderful country. May be he was, may be his words would have been different if he had decided to pen down a few words about the India as we see now.

I am not a staunch supporter of Gandhi neither i believe in Gandhism and his path of non violence. i must admit that the times are different to what it was 100 yrs ago. May be Gandhi too would have changed his opinion about it had he lived in the current era or may be not. But then Gandhi once said,

           "When women in this country can walk without fear at midnight, India will then be truly free"

I just wonder if that will ever be the scenario.. today indian women cannot walk safely even during the day. Molestations, rapes, murders, abductions, honour killings, religious radicalism, inflation, poverty, corruption, illiteracy, under deverlopment, false promises, sexual harassments, poor infrastructure are but a few of the short comings of the country.. yet we hoist the tricolour in pride to commemorate the martyrs who laid down their lives for the country.. people smile and wish each other "Happy Independence Day".

Tagore wrote only one poem in his "Geetanjali" about the nation and his dream for the future.. now i wonder whether its mere coincidence or whether he too saw the truth behind the veil which we the people have put on Mother India.

as a tribute to Tagore, i rewrote the lines of the above poem for the india of the 21st century

Where the mind is filled fear and the head stooped low,

Where knowledge is not free

Where the world has been broken up into a million fragments by narrow domestic walls,

Where words and promises by leaders are hollow,

Where tireless striving stretches its arms to make ends meet,

Where plausible thought and reason has lost its way into the dreary desert sand of religious banter,

where poverty is not a dream but a distressing reality,

where corruption and fraudulent ways have deep seated roots in the society,

where the rich get richer and the poor, poorer,

where the people worship a female deity, but a girl child is still not welcome,

where education is a not a birth right,

where hope has found its way into oblivion, like impressions on beach sand,

From that world of ignorance and despair, let my country and its countrymen, awake..

Religion..

some days ago, when i was sitting in my room, all alone and lost in my own thoughts about everything irrelevant and yet so important for our (not mine atleast) and for the daily functioning of mankind as a whole, a small thought popped up, rather a question i should say:

"What is religion.. ??"

a very pertinent question or may be not.. i am sure there are probably millions out there who might have had this same question, at some point of time in their lives and have their opinions and ideas and views.. the thought wasn't any original, but i decided to give it a thought anyways deeming it to be indigenous. after hours of surfing, reading, thinking and arguing with my friend i finally realized the true meaning of religion.. i concluded that "RELIGION IS A DISEASE", probably more deadly than AIDS or any any other known disease to mankind. its like a cancer, an unwanted growth that not only robs mankind of his individuality but also instills in them the fear of god and divine punishment.. but unlike all the other known forms of cancer, this is contagious, spreading from person to person, from country to country. it is a malignant idea, that which roots itself not in the mind of the individual but in his soul, forcing one to do thing which they would have never done in their sane self.

this is probably the only idea, which mankind loves to spread and share.. infecting others and in turn inditing their lives and personal freedom. religion is probably the single most dangerous idea persistent in the current day society. an idea as small as this, has led to the massacre of millions in the past and present, led to numerous wars since the dawn of mankind.. religion is probably more lethal than the black plague of the 14th century.. it feeds like a leech on the minds of those alive, convinces them about itself, molds their minds to suit its never ending thirst for more and then makes them preach about itself to others and promote the idea..

sometimes it feels as if this is not an idea anymore.. it feels as if its alive and is capable of thinking and acting.. religion is probably the one thing that has systematically uprooted everything that mankind has worked for so long: peace, friendship, tranquility and progress. and much to the surprise, we applaud its actions and permit it to continue vandalizing the basic of human rights: personal freedom.

the result of this pandemic is evident.. it has successfully mutated humankind, rendering them incapable of anything but degrading actions and completely bereft of every characteristic that made them human.

kudos to religion on its victory... !! it has successfully turned us all into despicable beasts.