Long Road Out of Eden

A long pending post..... stuck in some corner of my D drive for more than a month...driven out of immediate memory by other incidents...... but finally managed to sit and pen some words down.

I’d gone out for lunch to “China Grill” on the 15th of August. It’d been a particularly hectic morning with lot of pending work and I was looking forward to a couple of their delicious Bloody Marys along with their exquisite Szechwan Prawns. However, even as I entered, the notice on the doorway , struck me with a ferocious oxymoronic punch.
“On the occasion of Independence Day….Dry Day will be observed….no liquor will be served.”
It was sad…and intensely funny at the same time. “Independence Day” is observed with such outrightly illogical restraints on an individual.
We have the gall to call ourselves independent , when everything we think, speak or do , contradicts the very roots of freedom. We are happy to accept our existence the way it is…..
….In an overwhelming fear of a tyrannical GOD , seemingly waiting to strike us down, were we to waver but for a moment from the so-called path of righteousness.
……constantly being dragged down into the earth by downright absurd , atavistic and unscientific socio-cultural fetters.
….. a society where every thought of the common man reeks of indoctrination…every action , one of blind subservience.

The media, in its demonic incarnation , is writ large over our lives. We are subtly commanded on how to move….eat…drink…dress….and think. The desire to think for yourself is a banal sin…..the attempt to break free from societal norms, an almost criminal endeavour.
We are slaves….to the society : slaves to status quo.
Under grossly twisted concepts of morality, this status quo comforts us….
….. “at least , my life is not worse off for it”
….. “I have a tough life as it is….the boss screws my happiness at work…..family life is a Tull personified – love’s in the gutter…sperms in the sink”
….hence….at least don’t ask me to think for myself.
….. “after all , God made me in his own image…and hence of course I cant be expected to think.”

Sincerity…..in any form whatsoever, is conspicuous by its absence. Totally unworthy pretenders are raised onto sky high pedestals…and the likes of me and you kneel before them in ecstatic, yet undeniably moronic adulation.

We are slaves to history…. Content forever to revel in the stale memories of some distant event .
We are the worst possible excuse for intelligent life….. willingly allowing our brains to be held hostage by that bastard meme of civilization called Tradition.
Indeed…..

People are crazy and times are strange….
I’m locked in tight….I’m outta range….
I used to care….but…..
Things have changed.

On Survival....

Life is all about survival….and as hideous as it sounds….if you do not survive , nothing else really matters does it ? We humans make extraordinary loud talk about having broken free from the primeval animal instincts. Even most moderate theologians, who’ve submitted to the theory of evolution, retrace all their acceptances in the loose statements of the kind.
“Agreed, man evolved from monkeys…but the distinguishing moment was when god breathed soul into a man…and thus distinguished him from all other animals.”
……and thus it is, that humans are supposed to be extraordinarily different (behaviorally i.e.) from all other species to have ever inhabited the earth in a few billion years of its existence. Then there come your way scenes such as this which make a complete mockery of the so-called altruistic, philanthropic, and ‘herd-benefit-nature’ of humans.

The photograph , which made headlines and shocked the entire world, shows an obviously malnourished ( high grade PEM) child in famine stricken Sudan, crawling desperately towards a UN food camp , with no other human in distant sight with its movement being traced and stalked by a vulture. The carrion bird awaiting the oppressive sun to drain the last dregs of energy from the child , so that it might make an uncommonly large feast…and perhaps feed its own starving younglings as well.
….and the entire scene witnessed and captured on film for posterity by a photographer, who then fled the scene…..the child was never seen or heard of again. Kevin Carter, the photographer, won the Pulitzer prize for his efforts, but took his own life a few months later in the wake of global condemnation against his so obviously inhuman action ( or should we say , the lack of action).
It is , of course , extraordinarily easy and oh-so human to follow the rest of the world in condemning Carter….but as stark and poignant as the scene may be….it merely moves me to a sardonic grin, at yet another example of mankind having failed to live up to its boast of ….well….humanity , shall we call it. Ultimately, everything is about survival. Of the child’s and the vulture’s intentions, there can of course be no doubts….. Mother Nature at its barest…a tooth and nail struggle for existence.
But what of the man…..is it really a different scenario for him….. all would say , he is no different from the vulture, hunting for a prize feast , and ultimately grotesquely inhuman….but I’d venture , that even as the bird , when faced with nature at its ugliest , he’s merely followed his natural instincts. Instincts honed over generations , from the ape… the reptile…the invertebrate ….back to the bacterium ancestor whose genes in some form or the other had passed into him. As with the vulture, all he sees is an opportunity which would give him (and his family) better scope and longer duration of feeding (by virtue of the photograph).
Many would say that the analogy is not applicable, as his chances of survival are not significantly affected were he to help the child, even after clicking the photograph….a point which merely strengthens my argument. The argument that the actions of Carter were not well-thought, calculated, cold and unemotive antipathy….but merely a numbing of all higher human neural centers and a response to the law of the jungle……of which we still retain stronger roots than any of us would care to comprehend or admit.
It is all very well to rain criticism, but place others in Carter’s position, and I’m willing to take a wager, that most people would act in a similar manner. Some of the most powerful images from history have been of disasters….wars, floods, famines, genocides, earthquakes etc . ….and those that have captured the same have won renown and repute , but I scarce think any of these people would have stopped to address the subjects of their photographs…..maybe to use their shirts to bandage a bleeding limb , or perhaps give a sip of water from their flasks.
Somehow all the childhood notions of morality, humanity, sense of duty seem to take beating when confronted by such stark scenarios….and while not all behaviour may be akin, I scarce think it is wise to predict, let alone condemn…..

After all…. “Let him not vow to walk in the dark who has not yet seen the night fall”….and human reactions in the dark , are best not predicted.

Musings in Imladris

Exhausted to the last sinew , you lie staring at the richly carved wooden beam in your room at Rivendell. The arm feels right with life again.

There were dark days....old willow trees , lying naked among cold treasures at the feet of forgotten wights....knives in the dark....and Horses....especially horses.....the last memories are of horses.

The Valley of Imladris knows no darkness and in the heart of the Last Homely House , one may find rest and healing.

.....but already the scouts have departed , and eventually they will return.....alas it seems that it might be well into December before they do.

"Its all your fault , Frodo , my lad. For waiting till my birthday to set out. Funny sort of way of honouring it , not the day I'd have chosen to let the SB's into Bag End."

At times you wonder at Frodo , in the council....but Hobbits have the habit of surprising the wisest , not to mention themselves.

"Bill, you fool, " said Sam "You coul have stayed here and 'et the best hay till the new grass comes up."

.....On that last day , Bilbo gives Frodo the Mithril Shirt and the elven-blade 'Sting'.....and in front of the December fire , breaks into a slow chant....

The road goes ever on and on,

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the road has gone,

And I must follow if I can.

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way.

Where many paths and errands meet,

And wither then , I cannot say.