Hemingway, his old man, and me!

After the failure of 84 consecutive days, the old man got a fish to his hook. Then started the real struggle. The old man had never been defied. He had not lost hopes even after returning with empty hands for eighty four days. For the 85th time, he put his ship in the sea. And this time, he caught his luck. But this was not the final victory. The real victory was in keeping the luck sustained, in getting to shore with it. Here was the real test, real fight -- not with the fish, not the sea -- the fight was with himself, with his luck. The old man knew -- what it happened was too good to get done with it.

Then started teh real fight. The old man easily defied the first shark. Then came many. The old man lost his axe, then went the knife, the the last big stick he had. But the old man did not lose. He stil had hope. His fight was still going on. His body was going against him, but the old man had not lost.

While keeping teh struggle with all his sufferings, all pain, he finally noticed -- the fish, his luck, has almost been eaten up by the sharks. He had nothing to lose now. There was nothing left to fight for. Suddenly, the old man felt very calm. How easy life becomes once you accept the defeat?

It's Sunday! The only leisure day of the week. Why do I need this leisure? -- to do something, to read something! But what if there isn't anything to read. Usually we have Loksatta on Sundays, only on Sundays! And today--saving 3 rupees of Loksatta and adding 2 more to it can buy Tab. Deriphylline -- so Loksatta cancelled.

Then what -- once again Hemingwe's old man! The old man lost the axe fighting against the luck, then his knife, then the last emergency stick -- and finally luck! The old man accepted his defeat and suddenly his life became calm. How easy life becomes once you accept defeat?

Tripped over this line -- how easy life becomes once you accet the defeat? I stopped. It's off all the day. No work. Just have good sleep all over the day. Evening at in-laws. Today is Rajasthan Royals versus Chennai Superkings match. Can watch the match in the evening. Rajasthan Royals should win. No work all the day. How easy life becomes once you accept the defeat.

Suddenly tripped over and stopped. Who accepted defeat? Me? When, where, how? Am I defeated? Is it a defeat to live in comfort? Thought get on whirling!

The old man fought till the last moment. He kept on fighting till the complete defeat. His life was full of struggles, but it was the life of a winner. And mine? Where is the struggle? Is it a struggle to be happy the earning of mere 4 or 5 thousand? Is it a struggle to kill your littlemost wants for financial reasons? It is a damn defeat! Get going with whatever present conditions -- to keep things going as they are -- is a defeat!

What should I be doing at this moment? There is MPSC prelim after 3 weeks -- need to appear UPSC next year. I am struggle-less. I am cool. I have no hopes in my mild. Where do I stand? Am I a winner because I'm liviging a happy-go married life or a defeated one because I am still standing where I was yesterday?

The old man's defeat was not a defeat. It was a victory from another viewpoint. To earn money is another thing, but the feeling of "I am a bit different old man" that nurtures your self -- his struggle ws to make people believe on this feeling. He had lost the fish, but even the skeleton was enough to make people believe that he was indeed a different old man. His defeat was not a defeat at all.

Sunday morning spent with the old man! Shedded some tears. But the old man gave a thump -- Be careful my son, you're going to do a crime.

To lose is not a crime. In some way, the old man was too lost. Real crime is to keep on afloating with whatever comes. Keep on struggling, to put a foot forward from where you are is a victory. To be an xxx is not a victory. It is just a step! The definition of victory is confirmed. Sometimes, an old fisherman too teaches you a lesson for life.

~ Ganesh Dhamodkar

(This is a translation of my own article I wrote about 2 years ago in May of 2008. Translated by myself. )

Charvaka: The Pioneer of Skepticism in World History

Charvaka is the materialistic and naturalistic school of thoughts in India Philosophy.  Charvaka, literally one who speaks sweet, founded his philosophy on the thoughts of this world rather than the mystic accounts of Vedas and supernatural god and heaven.  Charvaka denies the authenticity and holiness of Vedas and hence is termed as Nastika (nonbeliever) by the Vedic tradition.^[1]  He denied the existence of supernatural God.  He denied the claims that the Vedas are created by God.  He held that they are made by human beings and so they must be open to scrutiny.  To him the Vedas were mere utterances, devoid of any meaning, meant to "confound and confuse the common people."

The central thesis of the Charvaka philosophy is worldly materialism.  This consists of at least two basic principles:  Firstly, there is nothing beyond the life except physiochemical and neuropsychological functions; and secondly, the soul and after life are stories of fantasy as the gods and demons.  Such belief were quite contrary to the chanting and rituals of the Vedic ways.  Because of propagating such beliefs, Charvakas had to confront with the Vedicas several times and the Brahmins showed the greatest cruelty to finish Charvakas several times.  In fact, we can read in Mahabharata how a Charvaka was burnt dead by the Brahmanas in the court of Yudhishthira itself.^[2]

Charvaka represented one of the very first skeptic rebels in the world history and we see today that the world believe more in the philosophy of Charvaka's materialism rather than the mystic Vedicas and cunning Mimansa.  Whatever say the Vedic tradition; this is the victory of Charvakas over the Brahminical tradition of mysticism and unreality.  This marks the greatness of Charvaka over the Vedic tradition.  But the greatness of their school should not be judged based only on this victory.  Charvakas were among the first philosophers in the world history to raise question against the traditional knowledge and this gives them the unique place in the world history.  Charvaka merely stand for those skeptical rebels who has spoken out in all great civilizations now and again.

Notes:

1.  Dr. A. H. Salunkhe, an eminent Sanskrit scholar and author of Aastikshiromani Charvaka argues that the term Nastika is not used honesty by the Vedic cult.  Literally, Nastika means one who does not believe in something.  Technically, this term is used for Buddhism, Jainism, and Charvaka who does not believe in the authority of Vedas.  Dr. Salunkhe states that despite of this original meaning, the term was made popular meaning as one who does not believe in existence of god or anything that is good.  He argues that Charvaka's philosophy did believe in well-being in this very world and hence should be termed as The Gem of the Aastikas as opposed to a Nastik.  Salunkhe AH (In Marathi), Aastikshiromani Charvaka (1992), Satara:  Lokayat Prakashan.

2.  When Yudhishthira enters the city of Hastinapura after the victory of Kurukshetra, Charvaka accuses him in the open of having committed the crime of murdering his kith and kin.  The Brahmins were appalled; they exposed him as a friend of Duryodhana in Brahminical guise, and condemned him to death.  Encyclopedic Dictionary of Sanskrit Literature (2004), Volume I, Delhi:  Global Vision Publishing House, pp. 283-285.

* I found two well-written posts on blog world about the same subject by The Infidel and by Domenic Marbaniang.  I hope our readers will find them helpful.  The first one is in French, you can use Google Translate to translate it in the language of your choice. 

Paul Laurence Dunbar: Life and Poetry

Paul Laurence Dunbar

I am not a great admirer of English poetry.  My literary taste is nourished on classics of Urdu poetry.  My philosophy about life owes a lot to the great poets of Urdu language from Ghalib to Iqbal and Faiz to Faraz.  Also in my own mother tongue Marathi, we have some fine pieces of poetry from medieval ages of Dnyaneshwar and Tukaram to modern voice of Marathi Dalit poetry.  Hailing from such a great literary background, I am a bit skeptic about English poetry.  It is true that I have read only a little of it, but whatever I read, it could not catch my nerves and soul.  But all of this was only until yesterday when I saw the name of Paul Laurence Dunbar somewhere while surfing.  I saw his name somewhere in some google ad and just for curiosity made a google search.  The words were:

My days are never days of ease;
I till my ground and prune my trees.
When ripened gold is all the plain,
I put my sickle to the grain.
I labor hard, and toil and sweat,
          While others dream within the dell;
But even while my brow is wet,
          I sing my song, and all is well.

                                                (The Poet and His Song, 1885)

These words, as they sound pretty similar to the Marathi Dalit poetry, prompted me to make a further search.

Paul Laurence Dunbar born in an African-American former slave family in the State of Ohio just a few years after the American Civil War ended.  His mother was a former slave.  His father was a Veteran in American Army during the Civil War.  After separation of his parents, Paul grew up under the loving care of his mother.  She always encouraged Paul to read and write poetry and he began writing as early as six.  His first poetry collection Oak and Ivy published in 1892 when he was just 20 years old.  Though his book was received well locally, Dunbar still had to work as an elevator operator to help pay off his debt to his publisher.  In 1893, he was invited to recite at the World's Fair, where he met Frederick Douglass, the renowned abolitionist who rose from slavery to political and literary prominence in America.  Douglass called Dunbar "the most promising young colored man in America."  It was Dunbar's second book that propelled him to national fame. William Dean Howells, a novelist and widely respected literary critic who edited Harper's Weekly, praised Dunbar's book in one of his weekly columns and launched Dunbar's name into the most respected literary circles across the country.

Dunbar died at a very early age of 33 from tuberculosis and depression from separation from his wife.  He ultimately produced 12 books of poetry, four books of short stories, a play and five novels. His work appeared in Harper's Weekly, the Sunday Evening Post, the Denver Post, Current Literature and a number of other magazines and journals.  He was a poet with a dream and he had his dream all through his life.

He had his dream, and all through life,
Worked up to it through toil and strife.
Afloat fore'er before his eyes,
It colored for him all his skies:
          The storm-cloud dark
          Above his bark,
The calm and listless vault of blue
Took on its hopeful hue,
It tinctured every passing beam --
          He had his dream.

He labored hard and failed at last,
His sails too weak to bear the blast,
The raging tempests tore away
And sent his beating bark astray.
          But what cared he
          For wind or sea!
He said, "The tempest will be short,
My bark will come to port."
He saw through every cloud a gleam --
          He had his dream.
                                    (He Had His Dream)

Medieval Temples of Satgaon

Satgaon is a small village in Chikhli Tehsil of Buldhana district.  It is situated about 10 miles to the south of Buldhana.  The village is locally known as Satgaon Bhusari to distinguish it from another village on Buldhana-Dhad road with the same name.  Not much significant is the village with the population of just above 2000 and I did not even know its name until now even though I stayed at Buldhana for two years from 2000 to 2002 for my junior college studies.  Why the village caught up my attention recently is the existence of four old temples located there, which are as old as the 12th to 13th century.  This was only because of my utter ignorance about them that I did not visit the place during my days at Buldhana.

Few days ago, I found an impressive book in the Government Press Book Store at Nagpur that was the District Gazetteer of Buldhana originally published in 1910 by the British Government.  This book is the work of immense importance as it gives a vivid picture of the district, its people, its land, its flora and fauna, its culture and heritage, etc.  While describing the archeological heritage of the district, the gazetteer gives the detailed account of the temples at Satgaon.  This description is worth to read in original.  The gazetteer notes:

Maharashtra State Cultural Policy, 2010: A step forward

Maharashtra has always played a leading role in the social movements in India.  This is the land where Sant Dnanyneshwar denied the monopoly of Sanskrit language over knowledge and wrote a commentary on Bhagwad Gita in Marathi, the language of the masses.  This is the land where Sant Tukaram (circa 1608-1650) fought with all his strength against the hegemony of old Brahminical culture, wrote about 8000 lyrical abhangas (short poems), was executed for it as being a Shudra he had no right to read or write as per the varna system of Hinduism, and was allegedly killed for his revolt against the old decayed (but still strong) social order where no one but the priest class was lord of all socioeconomic privileges.  This is the land where the great Shivaji, nearly contemporary of Sant Tukaram, became the first crowned King in Maharashtra who ruled for well-being of the masses.  This is the land where Mahatma Phule (1827-1890) and his wife Savitribai Phule started a real social revolution of the masses, started girl education in India by opening the first girl school at Pune, and challenged the hegemony supremacy of Hindu law which kept a large section of people away from all kind of knowledge for ages.  And finally, this is the land where Dr. B. R. Ambedkar (1891-1956) hit a final blow on the varna system by converting to Buddhism with almost half a million of his followers in this very city from which I am typing this post making Buddhism again a living religion in its motherland after being uprooted for about a thousand years.  This is the land of revolution, counter-revolutions, and again revolutions.