The Real 'Wrong'

 

Well, most of us commit our wrongs with a sense of duty, a sort of commitment, with a kind of frenzied sense of occupation. If not for this, so many of us will not be found ready, almost instinctively, to go the wrong way rather than volunteering to do something good. So, the ‘wrong’ seems to have its justification born of those perceived duties by the doer.

A hierarchy of sieving then decides not so common from the common-most crop. At the first level of filtration, the finest wire-mesh allows majority of the mob of wrongdoers trickle down into the dustbin of petty wrongs on the smallest stage closest to earth in crowded slums, stinking nullahs, mucking markets and laboring beehives, where the fight for survival saps most of the energy, leaving very little escapades, now and then, in the frustrated minds. The bigger, fat, rascally particles stay above on the screened, perforated platform and engage in higher wrongs on a more substantive stage.

Now, the second level of sieving takes place among the thicker rascal-heads, the bigger baddies, or the plumpier daddies of the trade. The holes in the wire-mesh are bigger than the previous one. A lot many foolish gallants topple down, so many die, get beaten, imprisoned and clobbered down to survive at the second tier of wrongdoing. They slide down the screening holes at the second tier and settle for bigger wrongs than the lowest mass. As expected, the still thicker ones get a chance to play the wrongdoing game at the next level. Here, the stakes are higher. The risks involved are bloody, but so are the returns, which hit the proportions of Himalayan jackpots.

To qualify to stay above the screening mesh at the third level, the thickheaded pebbles, veritable stones, quibble, use brain as well as brawn, and mostly utilize the muscle of the toppled down smaller particles at the level immediately below, and the ignorance of the ant-swarms at the bottom.

In this final sieving, the biggest mafias, cartels and powerful politicians stay afloat to rule at the apex. Now they decide what is ‘right’ and what is ‘wrong’. All other versions of right and wrong at the lower rungs lose their meaning. On the lower platforms, murders, rapes, felonies and thefts come to be mere stats in the law and order book. These are mere social problems and hardly matter as long as these don’t shake the foundations of the state, i.e., interests of the ones qualifying to be filtered at the highest sieve.

One can commit a murder on the lower rungs and still be considered a foolish nonmalignant element. However, if a sound brain, even in the frailest and most non-violent of a body, raises a verbal assault against the wrongdoers at the apex, he then becomes the most lethal anti-state, malignant criminal. The state is basically not bothered about the marketplace cacophony of petty criminalities like someone cutting somebody’s throat, or someone raping, plundering, beating or shouting abuses. These are local police station worthy petty, minor pardonable wrongdoings. These in fact are the cause of creating the bread and butter for a whole damn law-keeping department. The real ‘wrong’ is the ‘wrong’ that shakes the confidence, or throws light, or exposes, the machinations and stratagems of the biggest rascals at the top.

The Sterile Land where Humans acquire a Super-special Shape

 

Well, you might wonder, what is this piece about internecine geostrategic gamble doing here. Beyond the parameters of right and wrong, for geostrategic religion has its own white-blooded pantheon of Gods, it’s the vacuum where lesser mortals like you and me can only fiddle around like scared infants taken into a theatre playing a horror movie. It’s beyond the pale of emotions, love, compassion or most of the things we find related to life and living: a sterile land where a super-species of humans, very close to being super-powered robots, plays its entertainment game. I also visualize a little game with Ajit Dobhal in Afghanistan.

In order to consolidate the non-military Indian rebuilding efforts in Afghanistan, the suffering soil of the lost paradise needs Indian boots now. Modi Sahab listening! Modi Sir, it will help Trump also. He is very cranky and pissed off right now, especially after the Greenland fiasco.

Well, the Indian PM is now well known, in fact famous world over, for doing lot many things, which we see happening for the first time. So, why not Indian boots in Afghanistan to restore the rule of law there? It's not that it will help Afghanistan only. It will directly help India in Kashmir also. Violence in Afghanistan and Kashmir share a subtle anatomy. I don’t think there is any doubt about this poignant chemistry. Just peel off the upper layer, use some common sense, and there you see the bitter juicy reality.

So, why not go into the den itself to contain the scourge. A little icing on the cake, it will cheer up Trump also. He is very moody and unpredictable. You may find him having Iftar with Imran Khan, if you leave him alone to suffer with this irritation. Modi Sahab listening? One more thing: by having Indian boots in Afghanistan, you get a strategic location to twist both the right and the left ears of the naughty all-rounder boy.

History gives a little opportunity now and then. There is a little opening for India to consolidate its position now—after all that rebuilding efforts within our limits, which Trump, unfortunately, finds almost inconsequential to the puny extent of just building a library somewhere in the war torn country—by redefining its association in Afghanistan. Trump is willing presently. He seems to have bitten more than he can chew, so needs munching jaws to support the mouthful. If irritated further, who knows, you may have, God forbid, naughty all-rounder boy's boots there, which will be worse.

I know the skeptics will sound a warning about the irresolvable puzzle that Afghanistan is, suitably giving Russian and American examples. But aren't things managed finally by someone? The Indian PM, being an astute human resources actualizer, can definitely count upon Dobhal Sahab. The modern version of Acharya Chanakya has definitely more to offer than assignments like managing Post-370 Kashmir. Modi Sahab count upon him to manage Afghanistan with Indian boots in the once paradisiacal country.

If the whole idea still seems too preposterous and unworkable, go there at least as goddamned UN peacekeeping boots. Graft the American-led NATO forces with a UN peacekeeping mission. The boots will remain the same, with the addition of Indian boots of course, and it will not create a paper revolution in India by the pissed off opposition. Moreover, beyond all the stratagems, the poor country needs a peacekeeping force only. Even in the worst of a situation, a bit of empathy can keep the hopes alive for millions.

The Real Prison

 

You know what, institutions are the mammoth whirlpools, which suck individuals into their all powerful innards. By institutions, I mean the systematized, soulless machinery to achieve dark, power-hungry, ambitious motives—even though a lot many of them pass off as the needs to run the world. Such institutions come in the form of despots, dictators, mafia, corporate cartels, business magnates, hidden heavyweights pulling the strings, the intelligence and spy agencies, politicians, NGOs, and many more. These are the black holes that absorb their own light, hence keeping them hidden.

Those who operate there lose their souls, their sense of right and wrong, as a strange sense of ennui grips them, making them sleepwalking jombies. The institutional juggernaut reaps its crop, while the individual clogs, levers, pullies, nuts and bolts just perform their duties mechanically. Institutions have strange hypnotic powers to put vibrant hearts and independent minds on the chopping block to turn these into suitable mincemeat. The constituents operate like lifeless bottles on the conveyer belt in an assembly line in a factory.

Even the stones change, slowly though, to the cooing calls of varying seasons over decades. The institutions do not. They adapt though to the changing circumstances. However, the core philosophy stays the same. And long after the cog is retired, and regains a fraction of his soul, and sees the grease on his hands, only then he realizes what he has been through. Now he can listen to his heart. His mind now can help him see beyond the factory wall. It does not, but, change anything in the world. Nor it can even if the retired cog tries. All it gives is a guilty bruise to an ageing heart and a sad feeling that life could have been spent better beyond the walls of the institution.

Joseph K. and Me

 

"…if you have the right eye for these things, you can see that the accused men are often attractive. It's a remarkable phenomenon, almost a natural law... accused men are always the most attractive." __Trial by Franz Kafka.

Well, at long last, I find a reason for my weird attractiveness. Haa haa. I also stand accused by the state vigilance commission under Hooda government in Haryana. The report puts me in the ‘tainted’ category to deny me appointment for a covetous post.

Want to know my crime? Actually, I had cracked Haryana PCS exams to get selected as a subdivision magistrate. The honorable Chief Minister and his colleagues, newly drunk with power and prestige, got gastric ulcer over we batch-mates’ tiny feat. So there they order an inquiry in an all authoritative tone. They scanned our answer sheets. Lo, there they found the proof of my crime. It was an expert catch. In one of the answers, the evaluator had changed marking from 2 to 4 with his initials authenticating the change of mind. Now 15 years down the line, having lost the fruit of my 10 years of hardwork, I still wonder how come I stand accused for the evaluator's change of mind, and especially when this addition of 2 marks doesn't affect my selection in any way because even with 2 marks less I still get into the selection list.

So guys, there starts the Trial protagonist Joseph K. type futile struggle. Judges won't understand the rocket science. But do they ever in the cases where mighty state is pitted against some inconsequential subject? After all, they are also part of government, directly or indirectly. There are so many common interests, bordering on gives and takes, among politicians, bureaucrats, judges and businessmen that expecting honesty and fair play seems too optimistic by any yard scale. Anyway, it’s a long story of gross misuse of power by all wings including legislature, executive, bureaucracy and judiciary. Its boring repetition can be spared here. The plot is along too familiar lines like we have grown up watching in typical Bollywood movies. 

Nonetheless, my take away is the strange attractiveness carried by Kafka's accused protagonist in his work Trial. And I like it. Equipped with my accused attractiveness, I sometimes ponder over to find out reasons how come I got only 37% marks in IAS interview even after scoring 54% in mains written, because with this type of score one can easily be among the toppers. Moreover, I also try to find out to this day, how come one PCS board gave me only 36% in interview after I had scored 55% in written mains, which again is a top-worthy score. Well, possibly I scored really low on the scale of political correctness! Anyway, no issues!

So guys, here I stand like Joseph K. when he was executed with final words on his lips, "like a dog!" Heee heee, am I that bad, I sometimes think. Or to rephrase, am I too good for the system? This second option gives more solace, because it provides a sort of self-driven poetic justice. Well, to survive in this world, one has to have grey shades. Not that I don't have mine. Possibly they couldn't spot it. In any case, system's loss, not mine. Heee heee. Again I derive sadistic pleasure with this thought. In any case, it’s high time to realize that it’s almost impossible to win against politicians, if by some quirk of fate you happen to stand in opposition to them. God save you then!

Top of Form

Awe, missed something really important in this lamenting tale! The experience didn’t turn me bitter. I am a sweeter person than what I presume myself to be had I got this so called ‘fruit’ of my efforts. Such experiences launch you too powerfully into the unknown where, if you keep your journey going, some day you reach the self-sustaining orbit of self-realization. Here all previous losses lose their meaning and appear mere milestones helping you to reach the cusp of your destiny. Then you cannot help a smile. With lots of love for all, of course!

Kakistocracy

 

Kakistocracy is defined as ‘a form of government in which the least qualified or most unprincipled individuals are in power.’ It is summarized as the ‘government by the worst elements in the society.’ Isn’t it true generally? I mean leave apart a few exceptions, some luminaries who retained their souls while still on the seat of power, and all you see around are loads of rulers and governments Kakistocratic in nature. Exceptions prove the rules only, by the way. So, to my humble self, the urge to rule comes with a high dose of blind ambition, which definitely eats into one’s loving self. A ruler has to shut off a big portion of his heart to channelize those energies in scheming and plotting. 

The word has Greek origins. ‘Kakos’ means ‘bad’, and its superlative form ‘kakistos’ means ‘as bad as it can possibly get’. Well, I think only its superlative form qualifies one to be a serious contender in the game of ruling. The lesser forms can hardly get you the post of just a village head even in the most democratic form of governance. No wonder, those who deem themselves to be ‘good’ start shivering at the name of the word ‘politics’. Or is it that they put up a varnish of ethics, morality, principles and humanism to hide their inherent weakness, whose shackles they cannot break to compete in the race for the highest stakes, where one’s ambition and concurrent ego gets the best solace. 

Well, before we get into any argument about ‘this system is better than that’ or ‘this ruler is superior to that one’, let’s just be clear on the basic concept of ‘ruling’, the operational part of hunger for power. To be in charge of something bestows ‘power’. The latter provides nutrition to an ambition to grow out of one’s skin and become the destiny-maker of many lesser mortals, the mere meekly subjects. It’s very rarely about being ‘good’ and jumping into the fray with a soul-driven guiding light of altruism to bring good to the masses. If you are fighting such a bloody battle, how will you even think of poor millions, while your own gums are bleeding due to the ever-punching rascally opponents? In a fight how can one remain a saint? And if someone does, then my salutes! There have been a few by the way. But their negligible number proves the point. Moreover, these saintly people, who later on emerged to be rulers, never fought for the craze of the seat of power, instead they struggled for love for the causes beyond their own self.

It’s primarily about beating the ambitious, power-hungry horde running after the coveted seat. Are there decent chances of someone ‘good’—trying to encash a miraculous surprise to somehow get to the top of ladder of ambition—beating the rampaging bulls? Even if destiny plays a joke to put some nice fellow on the hot seat, the poor chap stands stripped naked as an unqualified and weak participant in the game later on. We can thus safely say, if not altogether impossible, there is literally non-existent chance of someone really ‘good’ toppling the stage to perch his bum on the throne. Even after reaching there, how will a decent ass keep glued to the seat, if ‘outright hounds’ are pulling from all directions to dethrone the upright ass? 

Leave apart a few dozen of Abraham Lincolns and Nelson Mandelas, out of thousands and thousands of rulers across all genres of ruling class, starting from unquestioned aristocrats, despots, communist dictators to the modern-day decent democratic representatives, you have trainloads of extra-smart guys who prevailed over—fuelled by a relentless ambition to yield power—the lesser competitors to occupy the throne.

No wonder, in Indian democracy, or for that matter anywhere else in the world, the majority of elected representatives have criminal backgrounds. It needs a lot of ‘hard’ will to get into the corridor of power, man. Of course, the pack-leader has to be the strongest. When did nature decide on good or bad? Isn’t it all about the strongest takes away the trophy in all species? Can it be different in case of humans, who are mere one of the species in nature? It’s basically about those who can make and those who cannot. It doesn’t change the law of neutral existence, if those who cannot make it, pacify their defeat under the principles of ‘good’ and ‘bad’. Ethics are very nice pills to cure the stomach pain of being left out.

In the power game to emerge a ruler, the strength is defined by an ability to make mincemeat of the opponent. So when such bloody fights are perpetually going on day in and day out, the little wasps of so called ‘goodness’ hardly stand any chance. Or do they?

Doesn’t it mean that every system of governance, ranging from absolute dictatorship to democracy, is Kakistocratic in nature? We just have the variance of degree of Kakistocracy in one over the other. For example, in communist dictatorship, it’s direct-in-the-face type abuse of power; while it’s indirect, subtle, scheming and tricky in democracy. It doesn’t make one completely into it and the other free of it. You have a Hitler, Lenin or Changez Khan in one set of bloody, gory Kakistocracy. Please wait before you spend all your scorn over these monstrous personas! You may have—actually we have all around—monsters safely hidden under starched white clothing bearing beneficent smiles. It’s a better-looking, affably presented variant of the power-hungry super-species. This one holds its talons under the garb in the softer variant of yielding power like in democracy. 

Best of luck to all who don’t qualify to be a part of the ruling aspirant group! Only superior forces, beyond terrestrial domain, can help you!  

Feeling crestfallen? Please don’t! If your ambition hasn’t breached the critical limit to instigate you to get running after the ruling seat, give yourself a nice little treat at a smalltime, peaceful café. Why? The simple reason is hidden deep in the corridors of your soul. Listen to it. You will get your biggest reward from your real self. There is a thin line between staying human and becoming inhuman. Most of us appear human, but how many of us are in reality? Those who find themselves poor in ambition to ‘rule’ are definitely rich in the treasure of ‘love’. It’s true like some law in science book.