And there falls one Gauri Lankesh. Some read it and felt outraged while some others read to feel sorry. Some went a step ahead and protested, some others a step back to draw conclusions. Some said it was wrong, some called it cold and barbaric. Some chose not to say at all and still some were left to say what should not have been said: “ਦੇਸ਼ ਵਿਚ ਹਾਲ ਮਾੜੇ ਹੋ ਗਏ ਨੇ” (things have gone worse in the country). What seemed more sorrifying to me was the latter lot whose haplessness lent a meek and tacit acceptance to such a disgraceful act and who most inconveniently had to settle by discounting it as the “new normal” that had lost its charm in an age of suppressive nationalism and its deafening din.
Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. An injustice to one is a threat made to all. Perhaps, Montesquieu did know, eons ago, the implications in his prophecy of a torn and bleak future in which were to be written to eke out our existence.
Is it our indifference that holds us back? Have such egregious slaps on our faces no more stir our blood into action? Has our tolerance now started according legitimacy to such offensives? Have we reduced ourselves to such low levels that our existence itself bears a gaping question mark? Why do we have to wait for a Gauri to fall in our own house to coerce us to act? Why does it not suffice to know that the fallen soul was one of our daughters and one of our sisters?
Indeed the answer is a bit nuanced and needs a little more thought.
Are we really silent? Are we really indifferent? Do our fists not clinch and eyes not see red when we hear of all this? Do we not feel that one jitter that jolts us from within, howsoever short-lived and poorly manifested? It does. Then, why does the expression not stand the test of action and why does it seem to be a camouflaged cowardice?
I don’t preach big things. I won’t ask you to take to streets and stage protests. Still I would impress upon you to bring back the revolutionary within from the land of slumber and take offense, in the most powerful yet peaceful fashion.
So where do we begin from? Exactly from where we started. First things first. Never say that things have gone worse in this country. With full righteousness and politeness, correct anyone who says that. India still retains its charm in all of us. We are proud of our INDIA in its every form and format. Would it not be better to say, “Things are bad, indeed, but they WILL change, indeed. The seeds of change have been sown and we await an early harvest.”
Revolution has its own condiments. Some relate it to bloodshed, some to word-pun, some trace it to peaceful marches, yet some others resort to silence. But silence cannot be and should not be equated with ignorance. In each of us a wave takes form, it shakes our inner self and holds us dumbstruck for a second. In that very fraction of time, tremendous energy is generated within. Such a massive chunk of energy, massive enough to sink everything around, searches fervently for an outlet, lest it should blow out of proportions. Some rage in fury and smash things into air and some let it be crucified at the altar of exasperation. So does it mean that most of us fail to channelize the
energy well and it simply manifests into nothingness? It translates into inaction and sees an untimed demise? Probably, yes.
When it comes to expressions, we often find our armoury short of diversity. We fetter ourselves with our own alternatives. Yeah, we feel bad but not all can take to the streets. It certainly is wrong but still we choose not to speak. We put up despair and retire back to our work. Tongues go twitching for a while but it boils down to pity. What holds us back then? Is it not our love for our life, our family, our loved ones, or the cobweb of myriad relations in which we find ourselves hanging? Is it not our myopia to limit our family size to a set of four people and four walls? Why does my country not constitute my family? Yes, my nation is my family and all citizens are my kith and kin. We ourselves don’t feel good when we do it but we are forced to adopt the “so-called” pragmatic way.
What coercion and who coerces? Well, that is not the concern here. I am concerned not if pragmatism is worthy enough to warrant inaction or desperation. What concerns me more is if we can find a better way out.
Did you say a way out? Yeah. Do we need one? Beyond all doubts. Do we have one? Certainly.
My understanding of revolution lies in a simplistic approach. If we can all acknowledge our own small efforts, even in the most miniscule format and hold on to the conviction that our effort counts, little needs to be explained how the numbers shall do the rest when my 125 crore brothers and sisters join me in. In other words, just don’t feel that our effort does not matter. Equate it to a drop in the ocean but don’t be dampened by your own volume, be overwhelmed at the oceanic expanse!
My brother is fond of drawing; he drew a heart for his sister. My mother is fond of cooking, she cooked in her daughter’s name. My father is a staunch rationalist; he initiated a family discussion. I love writing so I wrote a post. My friend loves to facebook, he liked and left a comment. His friends further shared it. Someone out there just closed his eyes for a minute and said “#ThankyouGauri” and went back to his work. Hundreds of tweets and newspaper editorials. We all celebrated, in our own small manner, the values that Gauri lived for.
Isn’t it simple enough? We all, if we spare a thought, in our own little capacities, can make things count.
Acknowledgement is a powerful weapon. A pronounced acknowledgment its application. Let not any news go unacknowledged. Talk about it; talk not of what our country lacks in, talk of what have we given back to it. Talk of how we can change the status quo. Every parent should talk to their kids. Every teacher to their students. Every newspaper to their readers, every friend to her friend. Weak minds discuss people, average minds discuss events and strong minds discuss ideas.
What will this do? An irreparable damage to those who walk emboldened by our silence and harbor a new-found amusement in the occupation of “justice-delivery”. Our silence does not mean that we are not observing. We are watching and the fire is inside us. Let everyone who assaults our patience know that even Krishna spared Shishupal for his 100 mistakes. 101st shall not be spared. Those shots at our Gauri will be the last nails in the coffin of tyranny in India. From her blood, thousands of Gauris will take birth in each house and grow up to slay the demon invincible. One was born when I chose to write this. One when you chose to read it till the end. Isn’t the progress swift enough for a beginning atleast?
Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. An injustice to one is a threat made to all. Perhaps, Montesquieu did know, eons ago, the implications in his prophecy of a torn and bleak future in which were to be written to eke out our existence.
Is it our indifference that holds us back? Have such egregious slaps on our faces no more stir our blood into action? Has our tolerance now started according legitimacy to such offensives? Have we reduced ourselves to such low levels that our existence itself bears a gaping question mark? Why do we have to wait for a Gauri to fall in our own house to coerce us to act? Why does it not suffice to know that the fallen soul was one of our daughters and one of our sisters?
Indeed the answer is a bit nuanced and needs a little more thought.
Are we really silent? Are we really indifferent? Do our fists not clinch and eyes not see red when we hear of all this? Do we not feel that one jitter that jolts us from within, howsoever short-lived and poorly manifested? It does. Then, why does the expression not stand the test of action and why does it seem to be a camouflaged cowardice?
I don’t preach big things. I won’t ask you to take to streets and stage protests. Still I would impress upon you to bring back the revolutionary within from the land of slumber and take offense, in the most powerful yet peaceful fashion.
So where do we begin from? Exactly from where we started. First things first. Never say that things have gone worse in this country. With full righteousness and politeness, correct anyone who says that. India still retains its charm in all of us. We are proud of our INDIA in its every form and format. Would it not be better to say, “Things are bad, indeed, but they WILL change, indeed. The seeds of change have been sown and we await an early harvest.”
Revolution has its own condiments. Some relate it to bloodshed, some to word-pun, some trace it to peaceful marches, yet some others resort to silence. But silence cannot be and should not be equated with ignorance. In each of us a wave takes form, it shakes our inner self and holds us dumbstruck for a second. In that very fraction of time, tremendous energy is generated within. Such a massive chunk of energy, massive enough to sink everything around, searches fervently for an outlet, lest it should blow out of proportions. Some rage in fury and smash things into air and some let it be crucified at the altar of exasperation. So does it mean that most of us fail to channelize the
energy well and it simply manifests into nothingness? It translates into inaction and sees an untimed demise? Probably, yes.
When it comes to expressions, we often find our armoury short of diversity. We fetter ourselves with our own alternatives. Yeah, we feel bad but not all can take to the streets. It certainly is wrong but still we choose not to speak. We put up despair and retire back to our work. Tongues go twitching for a while but it boils down to pity. What holds us back then? Is it not our love for our life, our family, our loved ones, or the cobweb of myriad relations in which we find ourselves hanging? Is it not our myopia to limit our family size to a set of four people and four walls? Why does my country not constitute my family? Yes, my nation is my family and all citizens are my kith and kin. We ourselves don’t feel good when we do it but we are forced to adopt the “so-called” pragmatic way.
What coercion and who coerces? Well, that is not the concern here. I am concerned not if pragmatism is worthy enough to warrant inaction or desperation. What concerns me more is if we can find a better way out.
Did you say a way out? Yeah. Do we need one? Beyond all doubts. Do we have one? Certainly.
My understanding of revolution lies in a simplistic approach. If we can all acknowledge our own small efforts, even in the most miniscule format and hold on to the conviction that our effort counts, little needs to be explained how the numbers shall do the rest when my 125 crore brothers and sisters join me in. In other words, just don’t feel that our effort does not matter. Equate it to a drop in the ocean but don’t be dampened by your own volume, be overwhelmed at the oceanic expanse!
My brother is fond of drawing; he drew a heart for his sister. My mother is fond of cooking, she cooked in her daughter’s name. My father is a staunch rationalist; he initiated a family discussion. I love writing so I wrote a post. My friend loves to facebook, he liked and left a comment. His friends further shared it. Someone out there just closed his eyes for a minute and said “#ThankyouGauri” and went back to his work. Hundreds of tweets and newspaper editorials. We all celebrated, in our own small manner, the values that Gauri lived for.
Isn’t it simple enough? We all, if we spare a thought, in our own little capacities, can make things count.
Acknowledgement is a powerful weapon. A pronounced acknowledgment its application. Let not any news go unacknowledged. Talk about it; talk not of what our country lacks in, talk of what have we given back to it. Talk of how we can change the status quo. Every parent should talk to their kids. Every teacher to their students. Every newspaper to their readers, every friend to her friend. Weak minds discuss people, average minds discuss events and strong minds discuss ideas.
What will this do? An irreparable damage to those who walk emboldened by our silence and harbor a new-found amusement in the occupation of “justice-delivery”. Our silence does not mean that we are not observing. We are watching and the fire is inside us. Let everyone who assaults our patience know that even Krishna spared Shishupal for his 100 mistakes. 101st shall not be spared. Those shots at our Gauri will be the last nails in the coffin of tyranny in India. From her blood, thousands of Gauris will take birth in each house and grow up to slay the demon invincible. One was born when I chose to write this. One when you chose to read it till the end. Isn’t the progress swift enough for a beginning atleast?
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