The Mahatma on Our Banknotes: So Near, Yet So Far

January 30, 2008

The Mahatma's Martyrdom Day.

Sixty years ago, a sudden, irritated, hatefully squirming agent of the God of Violence tried to undo the decades-long work of peace, harmony, love and nonviolence performed by the angel of the God of Love.

But did those three metallic squirts of anger and hate succeed in their mission?

Definitely not.

Such luxuriant crops, as sown by the tireless farmer of love and peace, continue feeding the souls and spirits for generations before being slowly, slowly eaten up by the worms of time. But then seeds survive, and new saplings come with newer nourishment for the generations in the future.

So the only effect of those three shots, each of which was entailed by the saintly chanting of the Lord's name, was that Nathuram became known as a famous killer and that fallen, frail body, with its trademark beneficent toothless smile, proved the inviolable principle of mortality.

Long before the moment Nathu Godse decided to pull the trigger, the Atma had become Maha, the body had become a living force, the soul had soared highest to meet the true colours of harmony among humankind.

So the poor little idiot fired inconsequentially at the sacred, inviolable, impenetrable fabric.

For the people who have at least the capacity to understand and realize the comprehensiveness of that infinitely contouring love, up-curving to augment heaven and down-curving to dilute hell, the great soul is still there.

Thankfully, I do feel like one of these few.

India might be surging ahead, driven by its ant-swarms, surging monstrously, thoughtlessly, with their tiny pickings of status, progress and wealth, but there are a few sturdy ones who can carry the big chunks of his greatness, even as a reminder.

I, for one, taking myself away from the ant-swarm, stand and feel the true multitudinous vibrancy of the rainbow of his legacy.

The vibrancy is forever.

It will remain till the final flash of light is gobbled by the eternal darkness in the universe.

That toothless, benign smile still shows its unrestrained aura of goodwill, luck and blessings from the papery symbols of our consumerist monetary gallopings.

The Father of the Nation on the banknotes, so near to the heart in our purse, and yet so far.

In this consumerist war, without any principles, without any limitations, without any morality, while we rake up the soil and dust, the papery symbols of the acme of our modern aspirations are tossed around as arrows of these new wars.

The papery arrows, lethal, fatal most—these papery pointed, poisoned ends—are now constantly hitting the sturdy mortar of the great man's legacy.

And while they rout each other in the fight to surpass each other, they take a common, rejoicing, bantering ball-thrust at his lofty visage, hung like a portrait officially over the battlegrounds.

Apart from this, it being the second phase of winter, weddings have started taking place after the chilly freeze during the second half of December and January.

A nice little chapter in the lives of two souls getting married.

It definitely means, and is, one of the most beautifully carved-out social celebrations, provided we allow it to blossom properly.

Well, good luck to all those going to be married today.