Why does He Want to Continue Writing?

Well, very small mundane facts define him. He continues writing with the intention of adding a bit bigger facts to define him. He writes not with the intention to outwit others claim to similar bit more bigger facts. Self justification is one of the easiest things coming to our nature. We justify even the worst of our deeds. He writes to justify the inherent tendency in him to survive as a professional writer. Not that he cannot do something else to earn his bread and butter. He definitely can. And he is doing in fact. But you know there is a piously whispering cooing of the real self that eggs him on to still keep trying to give his writing a platform.

Coming from that part of the north Indian countryside, where literature will be the last thing on anybody’s mind, where agriculture is the culture itself, he is the black sheep that is trying to get out of the herd to make this most unlikely career for anybody coming from the Jat land, or synonymously the buffalo land. Well on the down slope of youth, more than once he has abandoned the dream of full time writing. Many a time he has realised his limitations as a writer. Still many more times he has felt himself a victim of the forces beyond his control. Today when he gets up to try again to get a slippery foothold, he can very well hear the anticipating applauding whispering of the inherent voice again.

He fought for the most prestigious civil services positions in India. Fought decently well also, given his limitations and more importantly the literary limitations of the socio-cultural unit he comes from. The harder he worked, the more distant became the goals. He saw the worst of politico-bureaucratic-judicial game. When he finally fell his inner voice told him, it is more on account of the system’s failure than his own. So he has little sips of justice in the form of the inner thumbs-up by his soul.

Every time he fell, deeper were the analytical impressions on the neurons of his brain; graver were the bruises on his heart. If nothing more, it gave him the mood and inclination to write. Still he is fighting for his take away. His reward! He does not want it at the cost of somebody more deserving. He is not into comparison. We can compare just simple tangibles. How can we compare life’s thousand catapults that all of us get uniquely, single-handedly?

He is not taking writing in life as a competition, but as a fate’s lottery pot, wherein somebody will walk out with a smile. Having full faith in the fates’ evaluation, if he builds a platform to support his writing, he would also prefer to walk away with a broad smile!

Wishing him and others best of luck!

Politics: The Institutionalized and Constitutionalised System of Plunder, Injustice and Exploitation

It is about politics, the necessary evil for the contemporary world. Before we discuss the political ramifications for this politicized word, let us go back in time to take a look at the roots of the tree of authority that holds the thriving tree of politics in the modern times. Well it started with absolute monarchies.

It has been the supreme irony of our so called ‘civilized fate’ that try as hard as we can manage, we cannot stop the pyramid type, hierarchical and classified pattern of the social set up. In a pyramid social formation, the higher the class, the lower the weight on its shoulders, and higher the weight on the lower ones constituting the base. In the beginning we had the pointed peak of the social pyramid represented by the unrestrained, unchecked, all powerful potentate, the King, with all his weight on all below, and no weight on his shoulder at all except the light hallo of divinity falling on his crowned head. The crown just acted as a paperweight holding the paper sheaf wherein endless lines of unlimited authority decided the fate of those below. Sometimes the winds did ruffle the edges around the margin, but the sheaf as such was always safe; the centre of gravity exactly falling in its middle in the form of divine rights. Safely tucked under the big stone of cosmic proportions, the papery revolt just could not send even a single tremor across the book of divine rights.

Later, as the civilization unfolded a bit more, absolute monarchies were either blown off the top, or some checks and balances were put in the path of all powerful authority in the form of some constitutional provisions like elected representatives trying to bolster the principles intended for the emancipation of the lowest layers in the pyramid. (Times have more or less weathered the massive crown heads of monarchies and we are left with a few residual, beaten crags struggling in low relief with beaten joints and chips flying away attacked by the rasping desert winds of the popular unrest.)

Will we be ever able to wipe out the successive upper plateaus of exploitation (as the denuded pyramid comes lower, having lost its upper layers, the slag sliding down the sides and slopes to reach a one common uniform layer of everybody’s authority and thus none’s authority)? Under such a scenario, all authority denuded and spread equally among the masses on a uniform plain, will self responsibility allow things to function in all empowered citizenry? Will we function as expected and idealized? Well, answers to these questions lie in future’s womb. It depends on the extent to which the free citizens become self-responsible in a not so free world governed and managed by increasing mechanisations at the individual, social, institutional and governmental levels.  

Passing through successive layers of exploitation in the pyramid, we reach our very own broadly cut plateau at the top involving numerous players—legislature, executive, judiciary, bureaucracy, capitalists, criminals, religioners—our present political system at the top now. Times have eroded the pyramid and left this broader plateau at the top after cutting down the pinpointed head of absolute monarchy. Here all the evils of the former pointed absolutism have been handed over to a broader section of players. The dirt of absolutism has been raked up to be spread among the progenies of absolutism. The ‘will to power’ has sired numerous little crown-heads who try to convince the lower layers that this facelift is meant to ensure the equal rights for the masses. So here we land up with the grandchildren of absolutism, i.e., politics and its big, broad, legally secured crown of authority (which by the way is very safe given its broad supportive rim of constitutionality). Presently, politicians rule at the flat top of this denuding pyramid. Murkily spread over this vast pedestal of authority—their authority constitutionalised—suitably served and aided by the so call ‘influential class’, it now wears the ruling crown, a multi-headed monster, the great scion of absolute monarchy, changed with changing times, in its new avatar. What has but not changed is the will to exploit and self-serve to survive. Why not? After all, it carries the same blood in its authoritative veins like its grandfather, the absolute, all powerful King.

Earlier during the days of absolutism, it worked with impunity and through blatant dispensation of whatever it required to keep its clutch hold on the lesser mortals, now it does through the subtle art of politics, through ‘siyasat’. The long and windy corridors of political hypnotizers echo with lispy conspiratorial whispers; of suppression, secrecy, connivance, plot hatching and what not. Under the monarchy, the despotic game was limited to the royal lineage and their chieftains, now the crown is up for grabs by anyone interested. The only eligibility is the ‘will to power’. In its multitudinous aspect, the fight for little-little crowns up for grabs on the plateau: for legislature, for executive, for judiciary, etc. The rules of the battle in this vast battle ground are solidly fixed up in the constitution book. Rule are but rules, mere words noted down in hypothetical conjectures in the books. These cannot come to life and fight for their sanctity and protection if faced with blatant violations. Since brains are developing even faster for any law, for every rule there in the book, we delve deeper into our creative self to contrive bypasses and short-cuts to either escape their feeble dragnet or even poke our noses at them after judiciously cutting the netting. Our present set of power holders, the politicians, practically, suitably and efficiently manages the game. They munch the meat of authority and throw bones to their cronies, bureaucrats, businessmen and criminals. The unchecked orgy earlier perpetrated by a single monarch, is now enjoyed by a faceless many-bodied class, the politicians.

In all its forms, democracy is considered to be a religion drawing its inspiration and authority from the scriptures of the constitution. A holy book, but, is just a holy book. If not in full letter, but in spirit at least we easily violate the pious injunctions. Apart from these pious injunctions, what happens in reality is an open secret. Except for a few big, mighty words, constitutions are amended to suit the latest political masters’ present day growth prospects. See beyond the superficiality of the decked up bride of democracy coquettishly bragging the independence and autonomy of its various arms, you will see that the politico-bureaucratic-judicial-executive machinery is explicitly or implicitly, directly or indirectly, ultimately mastered and pulled along by the modern monarchs, the politicians. Take for example the bureaucracy, once considered the steel frame of the British Raj, it has now become feeble meshed cage with rusty, breaking wires and gaping holes. All of us know the fate of a bureaucrat if instead of becoming a hyena chucking up the leftover of plunder by some politician, he becomes just a ‘grass eating vegetarian cow’ honestly following the principles and rules of his service book. He is spotted like a black sheep in the easygoing white flock. Harassment and punishment postings ensure that an official of the same cadre and experience can be made a meat-eating hero or a famished zero by the lion, the politician. It’s a clear choice. Either become a steely, profiting arm of a politician or be ready to be thrown in dustbin corners of the bureaucratic corridors. All of us know how state level bureaucracy is selected! Corruption is constitutionally embedded. State Public Service Commissions are just handpicked bodies of the state monarch, the Chief Minister. Literally everybody knows how almost 100% manipulations go hand in glove with the state’s ruling politicians. Manipulations are simplest of things at all the stages of examination. If someone just pushes ahead in prelims and mains stages of the examination, the all powerful boards have powers to undo all the hard work and marks gap between the highest and lowest qualifiers during the farcical personality test. So the prospective provincial civil servants easily start their innings as political loyalists. To muster up high-end pay, perks and profits, they operate like loyal palace grooms discharging functions assigned by the political patron.

Without making much of noise against the plunder of public money, severe breach of laws, gross insufficiency of public morals and rules, the judiciary too toes the line. Directly or indirectly the political masters influence the functioning of justice dispensation. The dark corridors leading to the appointments and elevation to higher chairs in High Courts and Supreme Court definitely allows the politicians to hold ears of ambitious judges. Judiciary is allowed a free play by politicians in cases where only masses are involved. In such cases the judges can afford to have some discretion, be honest if they want and take money from one of the parties through the lawyers (like they generally do) to tilt the hammer of justice this or that way. But in cases where the ruling government’s interests are at stake directly, no judge can afford to feel the pinch at his bottom if he decides to be driven by integrity and honesty. Once in a blue moon, some odd case is deliberately picked up where the court gives verdict against the government and it is put on the front pages in media. It is just to keep people believing in the assumption that judiciary is fair. Poor masses do not know, under one such case highlighted, thousands of other cases where judiciary toes the political line go unnoticed. One hammer of dissent against government is at the cost of hundreds of political facilitations by condescending judges to appease political masters. Led by the instinct of self preservation most of the judges do not prefer to rub shoulders against the system. In this clattering noise of self gratification, the voice of justice gets buried in the stampede towards profits and promotions.

Politicians as the masters of the public and private economy are offered oblations by the business class. We have the biggest industrial houses of the country pouring unaccounted and illegitimate money in political pockets. Since it is a fight to further one’s own interests as far as possible, using any means possible depending on one’s own skills and shrewdness—it is just as per Darwin’s principle of natural and social selection—we come across the cut throat competition in the social jungle having its social lions and social deer. So we have the people who would never think twice before striking others’ head to boost their own chances. Of all the scoundrels, politics draws the fittest scoundrels who form a nexus among various scions of exploitative elements. Those who are left out of this fold become the poor, dispossessed, suffering underclass.

In the social jungle, the principles of raw nature like ‘the superior kills the inferior’, ‘might is right’, ‘stronger meat chucks the easy meat’ are prevalent in humane, implicit form. Whole façade of civilization has been created to screen the blind passions and intentions to kill and decimate each other. Instead of killing and exterminating each other, the human version is through cheating, forgery and outwitting. A lion is at the peak of natural pyramid and food chain, eating away the last interests and easy meat that successively struggle at the lower hierarchies to emerge victor at the next stage to be gobbled up by the more potent, powerful and skilled ones at the next stage. In social jungle’s pyramid, the apex of our food chain of interests is occupied by the social lion, the politician. Every lower interest at the lower hierarchies is finally destined to be deposited and digested expertly in its guts.

Politicians, thus, are the new age monarchs who are able to outsmart fellow human beings both at the individual and mass levels. Where will we end up with passage of time? Will the progenies of exploitation change in future? Or the politicians will even allow their own progenies to change them? Politicians seem invincible, not to be defeated by any change! 

The Artist

The most distinguished, defining and branding commonality among the artistic people is their lives predominantly over-arched with sorrow, suffering and hardness at the hands of the contemporary society. Mere mention of the word is sufficient to make one envision a life full of destitution, impracticality bordering foolishness, and self-absorbed persona taking the occupant to a cornered reality where he stands in muted aloofness.

Now the question arises why have such artistic people suffered all along the march of civilization. Simple! It is their affliction with this germ of creativity that ever lynches them to create something subtle, nuanced and an everlasting symbol of their calibre that will continue to fight against the swiping sand of time, to keep shining forever as an interminable legacy. This creative urge to leave an artistic progeny--which is so powerful among all natural objects that it results in sexual procreation willy-nilly in all species--in case of artists this ‘will to life’ strives to leave a creative legacy. They do not strive for a biological legacy; they slog out off-stream to leave an undying object of their artistry. In a way, it is an effort to move towards immortality in some artistic form, to leave a trace of this self-absorbed self in some form because it is not possible to achieve mortality in the physical form. At the common level, people are so inclined to leave their genes in the form of kids; it is just an effort to ward off mortality’s hammer-work that will see us lying in dust at the end of our journey. So we have elaborate social system of inheritance, matriarchy and patriarchy. An artist’s sense of survival is through his body of work that will stand solid against the cycle of life that does not allow anything or anybody to stand on the stage forever.

The artistic target being so noble and high, spanning so much time in the future, holding relatively longer moments in public memory; the investment of the soul’s blood and toil is also of the same Herculean scale. It includes devotion; worship; virtual surrender to the utmost urge to create the masterpiece. Aah, so much for this urge to immortalize the self! It requires penance, solitude, loneliness during those long spread out hours, while the world around walks smarty with immediate gains to still highlight the artist’s fruitless work. Kudos to this common man’s safe rut where so many move uncreatively, safely, smartly, efficiently, practically gathering puny perks and profits falling on the way as a result of tiny efforts and Lilliputian endeavours. So the rutted, beaten path of convention, of sheep-sleep-walking masses following the same path involves littlest risks, almost assured returns, monotonous efforts, repetitive patterns of life resulting in ever so expectable bits of money and the status of a similar mass-coloured sheep.

By following the path of convention, a man just puts in a very small, short term investment. It can be very easily followed, for you need not be an exception in any regard; need not take any risk whatsoever; need not put up any type of experimentation. You just imitate others; you just do what other hundreds of thousands are doing; you can even do it like a donkey yoked in its little cart going for miles of its own without using even a chit of its dull brain and the carter happily asleep dropping his reins and lines lose. The wheels trapped in deep furrows themselves guide the beast. To walk on this dusty, smooth, defined, clear pair of ruts it needs no special effort or creativity. Here just above-average skilled fake combatants run ahead to grab the lumps of tiny gains lying in the ruts, followed by the average skilled laggards trying to reach the front part of the mob, and at the end trail the less skilled struggling to defeat the tag of failure. So the pack train lurches ahead with its saddle bags full of little trophies and tiny rewards.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the artists do not toe this line of man-mules. They revolt and resist this mechanic soulless movement from nowhere to nowhere. The creativity in them enables them to see mammoth rewards at distant off-rut, off route places. However, the muleteers jostling around force the artist to move at the mass mobbed pace; filled with artistic fury, the creative soul revolts and steps out of the rut to move on fresh earth to reach its own set of rewards and bounties. Meanwhile, boonfully jesting and shouting train of human mules jeers at the artist’s first steps on the solitary path; they brandish their tiny trophies at him; try their best to distract and dislodge him from the unconventional path; bait him with Lilliputian trophies glittering under the conventional sun of their pack train. Not having anything else to distract him, they discard and condemn him as unfit for the mobbed completion in the dusty safe ruts. They shout ‘escapist’. But he just laughs them away, soulfully drenched in the drudgery of his soul’s creative instinct. He is fully immersed in the divine purpose of creating something unique, having a totally new version of reality. In revulsion they punish him with pauperization and ostracizing.

Hundreds and thousands of artist revolutionaries die an unknown and unsung death on the freezing cold slopes after moving away or parting ways from the normal path. Some of course reach the distant cave of their destination and carve out a masterpiece that is visible from the common rutted path and the commoners tired and bored throw praise and coins at him. From the craggy ridges its rays even entertain the streaming mass and they even sometimes praise his achievement after all the excommunication and call his self-imposed exile even a fruitful endeavour. The real artist is but still exiled in soul even though physically shoved by the hustle and bustle of common rutted brains.

There is a very simple reason why artistry is judged along very poor lines. It is all about money-making principles. We judge the effort in proportion to its money-making prospects. Since most of money-making is institutionalized within the parameters of the rutted path, the tools of artistry are redundant in the common thoroughfare. So the mob constantly yells failure at the artist while he sweats it out to leave his name written shiningly on the time’s fabric. The undifferentiated mass snubs the artistic revolt like a master pokes an errant slave, meanwhile the sun of ignominy and poverty shines on the bent artistic head absorbed in soul-work on the anvil of his creativity. For each word of praise, the poor artist has withstood uncountable number of chidings, snubs, hooting, lampooning puns and mocking looks. He but silently bears it like a strike from the ramrod of fate. Silently he just chips away the stones of adversities to reach the ever-shining gem of creativity, whose hook has been fastened to his heart, and the unrelenting line ever keeps pulling. He is helpless in the grasp of this passion-encrusted cord that would not let him go, even if they try against it.

He is the helpless moth, ever attracted to the fire of his creative passion. He just cannot help it even if that continuous fluttering around the glow means a final dive into the flames to be charred to ashes. Whatever might be the end, the artistic soul lives triumphantly, victoriously in the glory of its artistic passion. He sets his own goals and gets his own self-derived rewards, so societal acceptance or non-acceptance does not matter. Every little creative streak taken to its completion brings him own set of adulations and salutations. His stomach might starve; but his soul is ever satiated with big draughts drawn from the fathomless pool of his creative urge. Society may dub him as a failure but his ever sweating out conscience is perpetually vouchsafing and singing eulogies for his diehard spirit and really, really genuine efforts.     

Islam as the better Behaved Buddy of a non-Islamist

Educated Hindus love flaunting their pseudo-secularism. It stamps and validates their education begot in the great Indian way through rot cramming of donkey loads of books. It robs simplicity from hearts and breeds bitchy, pretentious brains. They crow at their artificial best when it comes to exaggerating the perils of Hindu fanatics, and downplaying the devilish deeds of Muslim fanatics. Of all the people, Sukh Ram gets abnormally jittery as he falls into the chasm flanked by the two extremities of these two important religions in India. The theoretical knowledge in his books, and his belief that he is true to his image as an educated Indian, tries to pull him out and not think about the sharp edges of comparatives. The fangs of these metallic hard protrusions do a serious harm to his skin. He winces with pain. There are perilous flash-backs and flash-forwards in his scared, buzzing head.  

A burly Muslim is soulfully skinning a goat. This trailer image takes him a decade back to a crowded bazaar in east Africa. A blood smeared image rises monstrously. Blood blood all over, on the clothes, hands and face. The figure walks majestically flaunting the feat, ‘Slaughtered 100 goats and skinned them since morning!’ It is evening time. Sukh Ram shudders. He recalls scores of those moments when as a weakling Hindu kid he sat around monsoon puddles to save ants and insects flapping for life in the little sea. The contrast! Scorchingly buzzes an old RSS pracharak’s word.  He was holding shakhas in the countryside to light a lamp of nationalism basically meaning awareness about the Muslim danger: ‘Let us be clear on this! The worst of a Hindu is still better than the best of a Muslim for world peace.’

Sukh Ram still tries to convince himself that he is not into comparatives. He but cannot help comparing Hindu Fanaticism with Islamic Extremism! With his limited capabilities and analytical skills he can just compare what he has seen or come across. He decides to take a look at the history sheet of the so called Hindu 'fanatics': ‘At the climax of their nationalistic chauvinism, they have just broken a medieval structure, i.e., Babri Masjid. And that too where? At a place where the supreme icon of my religion was born! So Ramlalla’s religious legacy has been hijacked in the name of justifying secularism on paper and in theory.’ As a Hindu he just cannot spare this heartburn, after all he spares his middle name (almost a surname for him) with the Maryadapurushottam Shri Ram. He just finds it amusing how in the garb of politically lucrative secularism the faith of one billion people has been allowed to be hijacked to politically appease 200 million people. Getting emotional about Shri Ram, who has been denied a temple at a place where he was born, Sukh ram naturally hates the Congress and Co. who in alliance with regional satraps like Mullah Mulayam have ensured that political gains theory considers Muslims as the most important element in vote-catch theory. ‘Just imagine who is dubbed communal?! The BJP!’ he feels pity for the BJP, the champions of his own faith. He holds a terrible grudge against his faith-brothers and even sisters, ‘Educated Hindus are the most vocal champions of raising dissenting chorus against anything aggressive related to Hinduism!’ Having grown up taking out drowning ants from water puddles, his soft self mollycoddling with the idea of secularism, he still cannot surrender to the Congressite bait of an esteemed self, the secular self. ‘The Congress gets votes for being what they pretend to be, what do I get from forcing myself into belief about something,’ he stamps his unorthodox thoughts not generally expected of an educated Hindu.

His souls rants out a long sermon as he closes his eyes and a burly khakhi short clad stick wielding figure tries to rake up a full fire out of the smouldering ambers of doubt and hate:

‘Why one billion Hindus are comfortable with the idea of a makeshift tent at Ramlalla’s birthplace? The reason is simple! Hinduism has been left unattended! It is lying in the open to be misinterpreted and misused by all and sundry including both Hindus and non-Hindus. Result is we have so many stigmatized characters, so called Godmen, within Hinduism who bring farce and shame to Hindus. There is nothing left related to Hinduism that cannot be twisted and changed to suit individual, collective, political and social choices. No sinew related to Hinduism is inviolable. If Bhagwat Geeta is lying at a public square, it is not a religious scandal. Somebody might just step on it to move ahead; another may move sideways to go ahead; someone might just pick it up and put at a safe place; and top of it, somebody might just kick it to land it at even worse place. This someone can be anyone, of any religion. When you leave your faith system to be misused at a level, where you end up having godmen like Asha Ram and Rampal, and where the supreme scripture can be kicked without even raising the dust around, where you do not leave even a single sinew related to it inviolable, you weaken yourself as a religioner, as a person, as a race! It is no clarion call to wake up Hindus and go aggressive and all. It is just a comparative situation: “Why one religion is more misinterpreted to be more violent?” ’

Sukh Ram gets really disturbed. His hands are nervously twitching, shaking and fumbling to get some support to hold onto the platform where his life-long education wants him to stand, a secular person. Does harbouring doubts about others’ religion means becoming communal? He tries to dispel these notions and clear his conscience as a full follower of the concept, to stamp his credentials that he is modern and progressive, not a religious bigot. He but falls, not being able to find a foothold as the shaky platform shakes even more perilously as the pracharak accentuates the intensity of his soul-stirring message, the comparatives being too glaring:

‘In Islam it is just the opposite. Just imagine a Koran instead of Geeta in the incident mentioned above. Do you think even a fanatic Hindu will dare to even come near the Koranic papers?! No!!! Reason is very simple! Islamists have not left even a single thing violable in their domain. That is why Islamists are ruling over their subjects like a hard-woven intact knot for so long and with such force. That is the reason why its extremist priests have such influence on the followers. That is the reason why we still see medieval barbaric things being committed by Muslim fanatics.’

Sukh Ram feels a painful twist in his guts. He cannot ignore the differentials. He is now somebody who gets afraid at the sight of a hardcore Islamist. He will be far happier and feel safe if things get changed in the Islamic world, if more and more things related to Islam are done and accepted like he the lesser religionist does. ‘That is the only way to break that final knot, to melt that blind adherence to the rigid lines misinterpreted from the original holy lines. It will give me a sense of immense safety if Muslim males, females and children lead normal lives in the normal manner of the current times without causing violent scandals and fatwas,’ he looks at his son playing with the soft, beautiful doll and assures himself that the coming times will be safer for his son primarily and the world secondarily.                    

He feels pity for the Tauji in khaki shorts:

‘It is even foolish to compare Hindu and Islamic fanaticism. When RSS and company get too agitated what does it result into? Long marches in khaki; lathi training; lessons for patriotism, ineffectual lectures from podiums because what can be expected from educated Hindus and even masses who will just move ahead with this solace that they are paying lip service to secularism. And pseudo secularists crow foul...bloody shitheads. On the contrary only a few Islamic zealots can hold the world peace at bay. No need to mention countless blood-bathed episodes resulting from blind Islamic faith. If we still do it then it sounds like comparing the attacking prowess of a peasant cart with a fighter jet.’

Emotional turmoil over, Sukh Ram thinks more about solutions, not just the problem:

‘If Islam can be misinterpreted in such dehumanised manner to unleash hell on earth, it is high time we fight to dismantle fatal Islamic stranglehold of extremist mullahs over its followers. Islam has to be brought under new set of its pure, holy, original rules. Its inviolable set of blind, misinterpreted beliefs nurtured by power-hungry mullahs should be cast away to make it compatible with other religions. Demon creating misquoted lines in Islamic books should be made to appear earthly and violable like any other misguiding book of other religions. Poison sprouting mullahs should be held by their goatee and made to eat raw barley for all this bloodshed. Shame...shame. This earth will be such a nice place without the aggressive, extremist followers of Islam.’

He finds himself fidgeting in his chair. Gets terribly scared lest it becomes blasphemy even to have such thoughts within himself. What if some fanatic Maulvi reads his mind and issues fatwa against the kafir? He is scared. It is plain fear. He is well aware of the scores of killings of those having progressive minds. ‘As a Hindu I am naturally inclined to get scared,’ he justifies his fit of scare. But today he has revolted in his mind; revolted invisibly in the safe confines of his chair. He is a full reformer now, unknown, faceless, beyond the reach of any zealous bullet and fatwa. He gets a surge of excitement for being the saviour of humanity, for nurturing revolution in his mind to positively change the fates of almost half of the humanity on earth:  

‘The only way the world can be saved from the jehadi type of Islamic deluge is to break the myth of inviolable principles sprung up by the bloodthirsty maulvis who twist lines in the Holy Scriptures to draw abstract, violent meanings. Muslims and non-Muslims both have been chained in the fear of a deadly retaliation if there is any effort to change these misguiding injunctions. Sporadic incidences to change have been met with killings, because these have been tried by individuals. Result is that Islam still appears the primitive faith meant for the older times. The only way change can be forced is to break the myth of inviolability of those who stand against change and hold their own misinterpretations as something written in stone. Let it be a frequent event. Let it be done by faceless institutions at public places so that panic stricken Maulvis do not know who has done it. Let it occur so many times at so many places that it becomes a normal issue like it is with any other religions. Let Islam be like any other peaceful religion. This is the only way to take out common Muslim population from the clutches of Islamic extremists swathed in medieval principles. Once they frequently see the people becoming free from the centuries old blindfolding principles, they will be more receptive to change. Larger forces in the non-Islamic world have to manage it with the help of faceless or not so faceless players.’

Reform! Change! Freedom! These heavy words tonk so heavily in his mind that he thinks he might be speaking loud. He gets really scared. Has he spoken loud to make somebody hear it? He prefers that nobody has heard him. It’s better to have it inaudible. It’s better for him, his son, his family. Getting even more scared, he even wants to forget it as a nightmare only. 

Better to have a Godless World Now

Let us be clear on this! The concept of God was a nice production of human thought to give answers to unanswerable happenings, mishappenings, chance throw of dice and destinies, hard fought struggles and expectedly-unexpectedly varying outcomes. And then out of this motley mix of fires, misfires; success and failure; rise and fall; ecstasies and miseries, there arose natural questions--Why?? Why?? The concept of God was offered as a panacea for numerous puzzling symptoms plaguing distraught humans seeking answers to this 'why'.

You have to believe with a blind faith if at all you want to get some solace or unproven blessing. If you suffer unjustifiably, religion tells you that you might be suffering on account of bad deeds in the previous birth. If you are not getting the results of your good deeds, it tells you that you will get it post death. Both things are not proven, previous birth and after-death status. God is not proven. All the proofs to verify His existence are themselves contrived in a way that even these cannot be proven. So the final nail in confirming His existence is: ‘He cannot be known! He can just be realized and felt!’ So ultimately it boils down to a feeling, a realization! So very smartly it has been brought down to a level of feeling, a zone where logic is pushed aside without any rhyme or reason! And this feeling and realization is shaped by the unquestionable belief in His existence.

So where do we land up?! Like we are the owners and makers of rest of all the feelings in us, here as well we possess this feeling in us. Sum and summary: Aham Brahma Asmi, means ‘I am the God I am seeking!’ It started in human brain and is realized in human heart and actualised by the human hand in practice. Rituals that are meant to appease Him, are just smart ways of keeping social order and keep the people believe in the thin line dividing good and bad, moral and immoral, otherwise there will be a chaos.            

After a debatable journey, the concept of God has outlived its utility. Mankind framed the idea of God to create a psychological field of safety against natural forces that were beyond his knowledge and comprehension. Those mysteries have been explained quite well now. So we need not continue to pay lip service to it anymore. Doing so is proving more harmful to the creator of God, the human brain, the mankind. Religion is a thriving unquestioned business. Do you remember Asha Ram? Similarly, there are hundreds of Godmen exploiting people for their belief in the concept of God. Millions are dying in the name of various Gods. Political parties are pulling votes in the name of religion. High time we abandon this redundant concept! At the practical and mass level, it is doing more harm than the psychological advantage it provides against unknown apprehensions and insecurities at the individual level. Disadvantages and losses at the collective level are far more than the individual sips of solace driven by surrendering the self to the divinity.

Times have changed across centuries. Almost everything changed in its wake. But religious differences are the same. Blood-shedding in the name of religion is the same. Isn't it high time that the world community starts dismantling the hold of exclusive religious principles on people and states? It is the time for an all inclusive world religion, the religion of all humanity, humanism. It is the time to contrive a better idea than exclusivist Gods for various groups. We can think better to have a more relevant concept. The new concept can have Allah, Jesus, Buddha, Hindu Gods and other major deities in its fold. Main issue is how can Islamists be convinced to see beyond the rigid confines of their unchanging tradition?! All other religions are melting under the warm sun of internationalism. But icy blocks of Islam are holding their medieval solidly crystallized layers like polar snows. Will Islam ever be lenient to non Muslims!? World peace and harmony depends on the answer to this question. If internationalism succeeds to liberate humanism buried inside Islamic fanaticism, we can expect to have a peaceful world following the religion of humanism. In any case religion has to be systematically dismantled to lay the foundation of a common world, like it was earlier constructed in ancient times to stamp the man's authority on earth under subservience to natural forces.

We can analyse the factors that gave birth and then propagation of the concept of God. Mathematically, God is just an incalculable sum of infinite series of chance factors.

If at all there is divinity, it is chance, coincidence! Chance is divinity! If ever there is a force that shapes things in universe and consequently the human lives, it is the chance factor. Random forces shape even the patterns that appear constant and infallible to us. Suppose you hold ten playing marbles in your hand. You keep these on your palm and take utmost focus to throw in a way so that you get maximum pieces in the hole. The chain of event that proceeds is utterly carried and pulled by the chance factor. Who knows with what balance and from what height, distance or tilt you decide to go for your throw!? You have numerous options as per the aforementioned variants! Then by chance you get carried to think one particular position more suitable than others. Who knows in what funny ways the marbles float in air? These can float in relatively favourable and unfavourable arrangement to hit earth in who knows how many ways to scatter in who knows in what directions and strike each other in who knows how many ways and how many angles to result in who knows how many moving away or into the hole? It is a long and endless series of independent still minutely dependent possibilities. One conscious act of taking the marbles in hand driven by the intention of putting as many as possible in the hole results in an endless serious of probabilities that work independently in between the throwing stage with particular intention and the resulting stage emerging as an independent result. The result is free, so are the numerous bits of independent realities driven by the free will of the chance factor. From the micro to the macro levels this factor works to coincidentally shape destinies and the way universe functions.

In the fathomless domains of this chancy super-quotient, we have independent units that recur in patterns with regularity to substantiate our scientific theories. These are but particular outcomes carried by the swift forces of chance. Universe is an outcome of some chancy explosion. Life on earth is pleasant coincidence, divine chance. See the dance of prince chance in all its charm around you and in your life and you will feel its superweight! And if chance is the God, we should take no chance with the chancy quirkiness and rather shape our destinies more practically, more logically and less blindly.