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This is a response to this.
24th November, 2016: Created
20th December, 2016: Modified
January, 2017: Stylized; added P.S., P.P.S, and P.P.P.S
I prefer someone who burns the flag and then wraps themselves up in the Constitution over someone who burns the Constitution and then wraps themselves up in the flag.
~ Molly Ivins, The New York Times, 1978. Sourced from re-tweet by Larry Wall of a tweet by Steve Silberman on 01 Dec, 2016.
... such an exercise seldom produces striking results. Most people who accept illegal gratification or are otherwise the recipients of black money do not keep their ill-gotten earnings in the form of currency for long. The idea that black money or wealth is held in the form of notes tucked away in suit cases or pillow cases is naive. And in any case, even those who are caught napping --- or waiting --- will have the chance to convert the notes through paid agents as some provision has to be made to convert at par notes tendered in small amounts for which explanations cannot be reasonably sought. But the gesture had to be made, and produced much work and little gain. (RBI 2005:41)
~ I.G.Patel, the Governor of the RBI when the last 'demonetisation' exercise was attempted in 1978; extracted from the article "Lost Due to Translation" by Ashok K Nag in The Economic & Political Weekly, Vol LI, No. 48, November 26, 2016.
... Deeply disappointed, he returned to his plastic-sheet tent on an isolated, forested hillock. "Even if I've one crore (rupees) what's the government got to do with my money... it's my toil... my life's savings...Did the government ever give us something? Does it come to our rescue when our people and cattle die in snowstorms on high mountains," says the agitated septugenarian, who doesn't have a bank account, voter identification card, ration card or an Aadhar card.
...
"When militancy broke out in Kashmir Valley, the high altitude pastures at Talail in Gurez Valley --- where I'd built a mud house --- were taken over by the army. Thereafter, we were never allowed to camp on these pastures."
...
Many small villages, and towns in Pir Panjal range are abuzz with stories of nomads visiting with sacks of scrapped currency.
"They are believed to be hard-working people. The money they possess could be described as blocked money, but not black money," says a local teacher.
~ The Price They Pay for a Pastoral Life, Ashutosh Sharma, The Hindu Business Line, December 30, 2016; article accessible here.
Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will.
~ Letter from a Birmingham Jail [King, Jr.], Martin Luther King, Jr., paragraph 19; accessible here.
Democracy should be about preventing mistakes through participatory deliberations, rather than about making heads roll after mistakes have been made. This is one of the reasons why John Stuart Mill saw democracy as "government by discussion" (a phrase coined, along Millian lines, by Walter Bagehot), and this demands discussion preceding public decisions, rather than following them.
~ The Economic Consequences of Austerity, Amartya Sen, The New Statesman, 4 June 2015; accessible here.
There was one performance this year that stunned me. It sank its hooks in my heart. Not because it was good; there was nothing good about it. But it was effective and it did its job. It made its intended audience laugh and show their teeth. It was that moment when the person asking to sit in the most respected seat in our country imitated a disabled reporter. It kind of broke my heart as I saw it. I can't get it out of my head because it was not in the movies, it was real life. And this instinct to humiliate when it is modelled by someone in the public platform, by someone powerful, it filters down into everyone's life because it kind of gives permission for other people to do the same thing. Disrepect invites disrespect; violence incites violence. When the powerful use their position to bully others we all lose.
~ Meryl Streep characterizing (and evaluating) Trump's antics as theatre performance in her acceptance speech for the the Cecile B DeMille award at the 2017 Golden Globe Awards on 09th January, 2017; excerpted from the article "Meryl Streep has hit on star-struck Trump's big weakness", Steve Rose, The Guardian; accessible here.
The last two decades of his life gave him no further grounds for hope in politics. Over the course of the 1990s, that decade of corruption scandals and political instability, he noticed a dispiriting pattern. Cartoons, and satire more generally, derived their special power from their capacity to reveal what was hidden, to expose what was unobvious. But, increasingly, Laxman found that cartoonists had nothing to expose. The corruption and criminality were all on the surface. There were no broken promises to hold against a politician who made no promises, or showed no shame on being found out. In a culture where the only power the masses have is the power to shame, power lies within the totally shameless.
~ "Hope means what?", The cock-eyed vision of R.K.Laxman, Nakul Krisha, The Caravan, Volume 09, Issue 01, pg. 64
... one ought to recognize that the present political chaos is connected with the decay of language, and that one can probably bring about some improvement by starting at the verbal end. If you simplify your English, you are freed from the worst follies of orthodoxy. You cannot speak any of the necessary dialects, and when you make a stupid remark its stupidity will be obvious, even to yourself. Political language --- and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists --- is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.
~ Politics and the English Language, George Orwell, 1946; essay accessible here.
Just as fire...after being released from a house of reeds or a house of grass, burns even gabled houses, plastered, latched, shut against the wind; even so, all dangers that arise, arise from fools, and not from wise men; all disasters...all troubles that arise, arise from fools and not from wise men.
~ Bahudhatuka Sutta (The Discourse on Many Elements), Majjhima Nikaya 115; sourced from the text Mind Like Fire Unbound by Thanissaro Bhikkhu, pg. 40.
... as the mass of mankind remains always at about the same pitch of misery, it never assents long to any one remedy, but is always best pleased by a novelty which has not yet proved illusive.
~ A Theologico-Political Treatise, Spinoza
John Stumpf
he did say eight was great
But Elizabeth Warren
she told him to wait
till she figured what to do
with his bank balance
which was turning out
to be a bit too fat.
Poor John
he very readily left
as someone was about
to do one on the Eighth;
a day when bank balances
fat and white
were seen as only ones
of the right type.
Warren,
she thought like Bonnie & Clyde
too much white,
it ain't also right
unlike, that one
Mr. Robin Hood Right
who said when
all black turns white
will the world be cured
of its only damning vice.
John, he was a little too late
to see the light
that shone on all who were
black, brown, yellow but white,
but managed to zoom on
only that which was white
which though was deemed just right
provided it remained
below a certain height.
'stead John,
he could've readily jumped ship
to that place
where between black & white
folks readily do flip
and where everything
is always so loosely knit.
In that land,
everyone is all brown
and in the open
on everything black
they do frown
but, in secret,
black is the pool
in which they all love to drown
by gifting to the Parties
that harbour all the clowns
while everyone is busy
staring to the other side of town.
Their gifting makes the clowns
win an unfair fight
so that they come to dictate
a nation's five-year plight
through a singular PM's
fabulously feeble might
who thought he alone could
everything sight
all that was black
and just a bit white.
He left 'em all
in stupendous surprise
when he did pronounce a thing
so foolishly wise
which instantly cut
all black down to size
with a gravel judge-like
oh so very ripe
banged with a force
not once,
twice,
but fully thrice,
with a booming sound
which turned out to be
oh so trite
to be the
laughing terrorist's terrifying fright.
To announce something
so very grave
he called a party
of only the braves
which honest folks knew to be
all terribly knave.
He told 'em white knights
to simply rant and rave
with piercing sounds
from the stone-age of caves
to scare the peasants
far far away
from what he had
so dearly saved
all through a life
of an uneviable fate
always so delicately laced
by that slippery shade of black.
John, he was filled
with such a thrill
to witness
so unfair a sight
of that mighty white knight
versus
a black peasan'ts patient might
on a land generously branded
for its cultured foresight.
The land John was from
it got famous for 9 by 11;
the land he jumped to
it didn't have much to try
for it took
what was 9 and 11
and simply flipped it
out & about
on a make-shift jugaad mound
to make that 9
a bit like 8
all the while
retaining that 11
so to remind all
of the horrors of Spacey's Seven.
The smart lad,
he made bold to ask:
Hold on a minute Sir
Eight ain't the same as Nine.
for this
he was taken to task
by the PM himself,
hiding behind
a double speak mask:
What is white today
was very much black yesterday;
and, what will surely be black tomorrow,
is very much white today.
The lad,
he saw through
an argument so crafty:
earlier the crook
he took sixty
and, the taxman
he kept the balance forty.
But now, the taxman
he happily stole the sixty
making the crook lose
barely a twenty
giving John and his Master
oh so very plenty
that it was a cause of
Mara's and Satan's
burning envy.
All this
it ain't no surprise
to folks from that
original land of fame
where those who saw it All
were quick to caution others
from a fall
by imbuing profoundness
in everyone's soul
through messages
wrapped as sturdy calls
which, sadly,
eluded the politician
who thought himself
far too tall.
The messages
rhythmically they did intone:
the day
it shall follow the night
as the night
it follows the day.
Where this effect
is borne of that cause here
as this cause too
is borne of those effects there.
Where there is
birth after death
as there is
death after birth.
Where everything moves
around forever
making what is black
a bit white
and what is white
a bit black
once again
and again
and again
and
just a little bit again.
The Master, though,
thought the intonations
far too unmanly
preferring instead
something more surly and burly
found in verses of
misplaced morality
that made him proclaim
a dire emergency.
The Master
he was in awe of
plastic surgery of the Ganesha kind,
and genetics
of a dubious ancient find.
His friends
they feverishly wished for
1) mother-tongue-from-the-vedic-mind
in everyone's mouth
2) spiritualism-of-only-one-kind
in the history books
3) yoga-of-only-one-style
in all the public schools
And, to skim money off all this
4) Baba Ramdev
plastered on the walls
outside all the popular watering holes.
Coz when everything is black
and everything is white
it always is about money
my dear honey.
To which the Joker
he too dutifully chimed:
even the honey
ain't she too all about the money?
Of the Master's admirers
many there abound
from which one
was easily to be be found
who did try
to crassly confound
by shouting from
the top of a mound
"those who stand in queues
percent of Muslims
is a healthy eighty."
A second quipped to complete
Other foreigners,
they make up
the remaining twenty."
A third, he foolishly asked:
what about the vanvasis?
to earn the rebuke of a fourth:
[lest the secret be publicly out]
we gave 'em nothing over the years,
so they ain't got nothing to put in.
But dare not tell this outside,
else the next one,
we'll lose with a landslide.
Coz when everything is black
and everything is white
it always is about the majority
oh my dear fair lady.
To which the Joker
he too dutifully mimed:
only if my lady is both
a Hindu and a White.
But didn't someone
painstakingly write
of some Mughals
who happened to be white?
The Master, and his Knights
standing in
a macho military file
over a pulpit from
Italy-of-30s nostalgic style
in front of masses
waiting to get wild,
wave a rhetoric wand
so very vile,
clutched by one hand
placed over the aisle,
to target the tempest
in the book of the child,
and with the other flapping
slyly over the side
ready to plunder, pound & powder
her proletarian parent's
pious pride.
The child,
one can easily foretell,
will ask her parents
with their condition
of hell
brought on by
breaking their backs
to sacrifice all
their bodies could sell
to send her to that school
over those tracks
where some books she found
of vintage smell
whose pages, they hid a gospel
from reformation's well
ringing with sounds of
many heretical pagan bells.
Those sounds,
they made the child ask aloud:
"When the books, they all say
life is full of colours
they why this fuss
about black & white alone?
The God,
he did tell me in my dreams
to hold onto
Liberty, Equality and Fraternity,
then why this partiality
from BOTH sides of the parliamentary Well?"
Her parents,
they knew her question
will only add to the tension
frothing due to
somebody's careless mention
which instantly broke
an age ol' economic cohesion.
With dreams invaded now with dread
they turned to the philosopher instead
to undo the mess
the politician had just made.
The philosopher he did answer
with that uncertainty
borne of from clear knowing
that it all depends, after all,
what one defines to be black and white.
So a story he chose to tell
of animals and birds,
who all knew it quite well.
The swan, it inquired
What is black?
The crow promptly followed
What is white?
In all fairness, though
someone did write
of a black swan
someone else did sight.
Poor crow,
it failed to court
a white favour
of similar glow.
It surprised no animal, though
to see one more drop drop
in that sea of discrimination
next to the land
already so full of it.
All along the road:
millions sweated in queues
so the taxman could dodge the swans
that numbered only a few.
The animals, they could not help
but raise a cue
to Mr. Poirot and Mr. Holmes
for them to deliver their due
to relieve 'em millions
from this strike
from men within their own borders
playing an eight-faced dice,
reminding all of Yudhishthira's
infamous vice
which led to
a very famous fight
which no animal ever deemed
fit, proper and right.
The reticent Mr. Holmes,
he cleared his throat
soared over from smoking
too much of the Brexit pot
and pointing yonder to the tv screen
he identified the swan from the froth.
Mr. Poirot, the frenchman he is,
winked over the side
and with child-like fingers
waded through some power-point slide
carrying the same message
in its leisurely stride.
The agents of law, this is how far
their intellect did manage to flow
as it all seemed beyond
what they could possibly know
when populist politics
it could hardly throw
moral grand-standing
and nothing more.
The upright agents,
they couldn't help but ask:
Since when did the politician
trample upon the backs
of those very back-breaking brothers
who voted him in?
Both appeal to
Ms. Christie and Mr. Doyle
to write one for the swan.
An upright taxman of vintage find,
he too asked with a troubled mind:
since when did cash
it became black,
but profts evading taxes
they went inside
the promoters private sack?
The taxman, he was
trained to separate
the black from the white
but not how to balance
the left with the right,
forcing the nut-munching squirrel
to reluctantly and rapidly spout:
since when the promoters,
they started promoting elections
of a corporate type.
Guess, when black is white,
and white is black,
it is all al'right ma'.
The vulture from high above
couldn't help screeching while
swooshing down
on the taxman's squirrel below:
The unfulfilled promise of Garibi Hatao
that did them all in
for the last 50.
Looks like Paisa Hatao
this will do them in
for the next 50.
The crow, the vulture,
the squirrel and the swan,
they all sing along:
when black is white
and white is black
it is all al'right ma'
including,
the sight of a squirrel
singing in the mouth of a vulture
high up in the clouds
which are all white
except,
when it rains plentiful
they all turn black
by the bountiful.
All once again sing along:
it is all al'right ma'
to be both black & white
at the same time.
Down on the ground
the Minister, he did say
if there ain't no cash
let them use
cheques
cards
computers 'stead.
Another,
lower down the pecking order
muttered with an indifferent ease:
500 works for movie tickets
but ain't no legal tender
for the food that feeds.
The elders remembered
when the french had no bread
someone shouted from the Castle:
bake some cake.
Those in the know
do know
who baked whom.
Though it was way back in 1789
it ain't never too late
for the Minister to learn
some bit of history
to be a bit more discreet.
The Minister too, it seems,
is demon(et)ized by all accounts
by the Master skilled in
stealing other's Thunder
when his own exhausts its bluster
leaving him always a bit flustered
with no time at all
for all of his bold blunders
to coalesce into
little
coherent
clusters
for others to clearly see through
his messy picture.
In all fairness
Behen-ji did say
"Poor Jaitley ji does look sad."
One pities the Minister
who has sympathy of opposition
but neglect from his Master
to such pass have things came to
all because of an errant swan.
Those due for promotions,
or secretly soliciting one,
or with a conspiracy to unfold,
flew to the defence of their minister
putting on a face so grave [but cold]
running helter and skelter
here [but also over there]
scratching their heads
biting their tongues
cursing their luck
and when everything failed
to yield something
they could readily amend
they fingered their keyboards
to no damning end
to unearth from Google's net
that pithy pitiful phrase:
In the short-run it is all pain
coz in the long run it is all gain.
One could surely tell
'bout these twins Ms. Pain and Mr. Gain,
which the flunkies did try hard-sell
that they managed to rhyme perfectly well
but had no other merit
which the twins could confidently spell.
Coz in the ministerial melee,
deep inside the delivery room,
someone did forget to ask:
which is which and who is who?
Are they the same?
Or something quite apart?
Seeing his mistake,
the doctor he fled,
leaving the mathematician
to dig in his spade,
who saw as a man
who sees his own two hands,
that the set of pained
was always divorced
from the richly gained.
Confused,
he looked at the physicist,
who with much time to spare
since science started burning
a saffron flame,
was glad to see
a real problem at hand
which thrust his idling intellect
into the play,
making him see
that all the promises
they were made up of
only some broken clay,
making sure the pained
and the gained,
they never were
meant to overlap.
The biologist
he too scratched his head
and with a smile so sad
had only one phrase to add
in the struggle for supremacy,
those expendable
shall dutifully fade
in an orgy of
selectively violent haste.
With their heads
hanging in shame,
at this thing called civilization
which turned out to be
quite a big scam,
all three trekked to Marx
of the communist fame
who couldn't but wait
to begin a dialetical game,
to introduce the motley crew
to the e-co[no]mical dame.
"They say communism is utopian",
shouted Marx in glee
"Well capitalism that is all white
is like Christianity without Hell"
"Or Hinduism without caste and rebirth",
chimed the Joker sneaking in from the side.
"Doesn't smell much like capitalism to me,"
continued Marx, brushing the Joker aside
"Who is more utopian now, pray tell me?"
Marx, he did have the last laugh.
But they all owed it to Adam Smith,
so they trudged far and wide
to dig him out of his grave
like many fools
who did before them.
Smith, the wisest of the mortal men
did shake his head in utter despair
and pronounced with a sagely foresight
sharpened by a 300 year old hind-sight
"I saw this coming all along,
when the fools who only heard
but did not listen
tried to mix morality, money and madness
to produce that beast
they now mistakenly call fascism."
"Hitler did market the cock-tail
but credit to Mussolini
for mixing it rather well
leaving the Italians with no choice
but to throw him
well beyond the jail
only for him to land
in the lap of petty Pinochets,
including in the civilization
some call the Indies,
where a few did held on
on to his tail."
"Those who did welcome the beast
they ain't no fools for sure
coz the cock-tail, they say
it does sell well
even better than
Whisky of the Scottish find
and soma crafted from the Indic mind."
Hitler & Co.,
they did make some money
selling the cock-tail on the side,
and when they made enough of it
they said theirs is all white,
while that of the man
who earned his keep
by sacrificing his sleep
is all black."
"The illegal, it soon became all legal
and the legal, it turned out
became the cause of
all that is ill-gotten,
and the curse on
all that is well-gotten,
and a bit coloured too."
"The illegal, it did ask the erstwhile legal:
what have you gotta lose by being black?
Just like someone did ask a few days before:
what have people of colour gotta lose
by electing him the President?
The people of colour did answer back:
Our freedom."
"There surely is a mystery around
what is black and what is white.
1) Coz when the Ku Klux Clan is all white
the negro is all black.
~
2) Coz when Indra rode atop
an all-white horse
charging from up North,
those running down South
they were all Black.
~
3) Coz when Rama decked up
all good and white
caused the wise Ravana's
downward slide
they all made him a God,
one who was their very own,
while poor Ravana
they burnt him calling him a devil
which he wasn't,
in turn, making up a story
so simple and stout
for generations thereafter
to easily mouth.
~
4) Coz when the dharma of the Pandvas
it was all white
it turned Kauravas,
all 100 of 'em,
very much black,
but thank god for that
one little dark-blue man
who made both of 'em fight
over the question of
what was black
and what was white,
solution to which
they still couldn't find
even after having squandered
a million kindred lives."
When Smith did complete
his gravely mumble
which saw everyone's hopes
visibly crumble,
all four did
fumble and stumble,
And all five of 'em together
they all did
trip and tumble
witnessing the namoing of India,
Brexiting of Britian,
And Trumping of the
Greatest Nation on Earth.
When reality is lived
only as an advertising campaign
Russia, it seems,
did its ads much better,
and China, it did manage
to copy 'em rather well
helping a few neighbours
along the way,
as many around could surely tell.
Marx crossed his heart twice.
Poor Smith thrice.
George Orwell asked for reprint of 1984
to make some quick money over the side.
With hands on their hearts
driven through with hopeless despair
they undertook the long journey
which many a sad souls
did undertake before 'em
to go back in time
and seek out the wisest of 'em all.
They did sight the wise one
absorbed in jhana under a shade.
"Pray tell us O wise Gotama,
what has brought us to this state?"
The Tathagata,
quiet and resolute as always,
did gently reply
with that mystic air
carrying a single word
uttered with the deepest of cares.
Heedlessness
was all they heard
the five did swear.
"What does heedlessness mean, o wise one?"
To which the mystic did clearly say,
"Forgetting,
what you shall sow,
so shall you reap."
"O, the most enlightened one,
it remains too distant for us.
Can you help us directly discern
the black from the white?"
"Well," said the rightly self-awakened one,
"Pay heed. I shall explain."
The quintuplet of the wise
sitting with their backs erect
and minds alert
hanging onto every word
of one so gentle and so wise.
Said the Buddha,
"Imagine a man with higher endowments of
~
I. compassion,
II.understanding,
III. foresight,
IV. respect for propriety,
V. coupled with knowledge of behavioural economics
VI. topped up with that of corporate governance."
~
1. Would he trespass institutional checks and balances?
2. Would he do things subtly or to shock & awe?
3. Would he be enamoured by optics over substance?
4. Would he not ask himself: is this for my selfish political gain, or for the genuine benefit of the most marginalized?
5. Would he not ask himself: Have I kept my compact with the constituency that voted me in?
~
6. Would he wimp like a child from the pulpit or fend off queries on the floor of the parliament as befits a man with a 56' inch chest?
7. Would he call himself a sanyasi, he who changes clothes five times a day and travels in a jet-set airplane?
8. Would he not ask himself: why would the tax payer pay for his travel?
9. Wouldn't that be enough for him to get his answer: why is there so little white and so much black?
~
When reason is abandoned
clear-thinking does subside,
wrapping the shivering mind
with thinly veiled words of fashion.
There is no one
who is pure or impure.
There is simply,
purity and impurity.
If those who shout
black and white
realize the distinction
between
a quality of mind,
and
a man-made label
they shall be released
from the curse
of all that is black
and all that is white
right in the here
and right in the now.
Chase purity
even if your neighbour does not.
Don't point a finger at your neighbour because,
reaping one's own deeds needs no one's help
including
PM of a nation which claims
all knowledge worth claiming
all for itself
but forgets to distinguish
what is black from what is white.
Remember the dhamma.
Hold on fast to the dhamma.
Leaving all that is black and white
to the machinations of the kamma."
In parting,
the wise one did remark
"I indeed am a little disappointed
at the politicians you all elect.
Maybe it is time
to cleanse all your hearts,
cuase as they keep saying:
as the praja,
so the raja."
And,
to folks of that great tradition
so united yet so divided
for,
one moment they have it all
only to lose it the very next,
he had some words of sober care:
"Don't go branding people
black and white
because, finally,
all of us are quite brown
cravenly
coveting
to convert
all that is black
into a vain gold crown."
Marx and Smith
they were both satisfied.
So were the
biologist
physicist
and the mathematician
all Nobel prize winners
mind you.
So we hope
are the professionals
who preach
what they preached
without understanding
how they understood it
earning their dues as salaries
in bank accounts all white
that look down on everything else
as so full of blight
coz it all comes riding
in the dark hours of night
in
fi~ts
BURSTS
s~P~u~r~T~s
and sometimes none at all
in accounts they call Jan Dhan
but which seem to have
no dhan most of the times.
The quintuplet,
their followers did make them sad,
forcing them to walk back
to their respective solitary shades,
along a road which
poets of yesteryears had made,
paved with bitter truths of life
which refused to fade
despite the bricks of time
that history had so stealthily laid.
Like money
which can't let go
of its marriage to black
the poets,
new expressions
they continue to create,
to reveal and over-rule
the politicians distracting fiat
through a song-and-dance mix
which the Nobels thought
a very worthy duet.
The Nobel Duet,
he relieved the quintuplet
of their uneasy curse,
by putting pen to paper
to create a 'surgical' verse,
to strike at the heart of those
who chose to be selectively terse,
by refusing to heed the wounds
the peasants continued to nurse.
The surgical verse, it went something like this:
~
The Batman
he too agreed with 'em all
But the Joker,
like always,
saw it much better
and alerted Orwell,
and Roger Waters too,
that, the Sheep
they are all being herded
by the Pigs now
to be slaughtered
when the time is right.
The Sheep,
they better make haste now
and rush over to the bank,
coz when everything is black
and everything is white
there ain't no other option ma'.
For the Pigs,
well,
there is either:
Purgatory
or
Hell.
Or, even worse:
no second elected term.
The Pigs, they will certainly reap,
what they have sown,
unless,
they listen to the wise one,
and pay heed to the Sheep,
which are quivering, withering
and deep down, anguished and pained.
Meanwhile,
the black swan
he did change into something
bright and white
to catch a flight
to a foreign land
where he gleefully rode
in a long bullet train
mocking all those back home
from a distant foreign shore,
where he was sent
by the very men he mocked,
whose accounts
he had just so
shamelessly locked.
He came back,
just in time,
when 700 million
they were about to
stand in the line,
to stamp their hopes onto a vote
which went inside a ballot box
to send the black swan
to collect that note
that helped exchange
his sins for forgiveness
from the Lord above.
The Lord,
He ain't too concerned about
what is black
and
what is white
but only that
which is wrong
from that
which is right.
Unlike the petty poet
The Lord
he doesn't demonize,
but his hands too are firmly tied
when asked to judge
the black swan's chronic vice.
"Amen",
someone tapped the swan
a splendid sight indeed did dawn
of a white crow besides a black swan.
The swan,
he finally saw it,
as it was always meant to be
that he was a little late, indeed,
to know what all he had reaped
from his very own
avoidable misdeeds.
The little child, though
she clearly saw it all
that you get what you deserve
from your own past reserves.
Be Good, Be Just and Be Fair
to duly get your share.
With faith restored in her belief,
her parents, they did heave
a sigh of relief
to leave behind an episode
which turned out
to be quite brief
which did expose
the real thief,
in a world
where,
there was not only black
and not only white,
but,
all the colours in between.
Her parents,
they went back
to break their backs
to send her to that school
across the tracks
to get her a degree
that pays a salary all white
one which no one dare call black
including,
the Prime Minister of a nation
for his own selfish, chartered political flight,
seen off --
by a set of fools
cheering from the side,
wearing suits
oh so spotlessly white,
joined by --
another set
obediently standing in line
all in the name of making
a great national sacrifice.
Both these fools,
they fail to realize,
deep down inside,
what looks white
from the outside
will always have
an eerily silent and cruel
black underside
when ignorance is fully ripe.
Their ignorance,
it makes the fools
unable to sight
even under the Grace of
an ever-present Divine Light,
that ends,
however noble,
even purportedly so,
are never justified by means,
so heedlessly slight.
~
P.S.: The write-up above makes an attempt to weave together a thread of five strands:
1. Anyone reading the above should spare a thought to the unintended consequences and collateral damage arising out of the note-exchange-exercise-called-demonetisation. The Cold War meddling produced Al Qaida as an unintended (or was it intended after all?) consequence, which led to the death of men, women, infants and children as collateral damage in the Iraq war, which in turn triggered formation of ISIS as an unintended consequence exacerbating the Syrian refugee crisis as yet another collateral damage which will, going forward, convert what is at root an economic malaise on Continental Europe into a narrative of us versus them -- all as an unintended consequence borne out of the rumblings of the Cold War.
What this crude thought experiment in cause and effect informs us is: when a shock is applied to a system with many interconnected parts, no amount of human modelling, understanding and foresight can control the harmful effects which are sure to number quite a few. It is a simple principle of design in any field (hardware, software, mechanical, electrical, architecture, organizations, and regulations) which eludes the common-sense of many. The human mind is best geared to protect, preserve, conserve, thwart, adjust, creatively and incrementally construct. It is not meant to change the order of things in one fell swoop. And whenever it has, the consequences have been terrible which future generations, sometimes several centuries later (as evident in the present environmental challenges) have had to bear. Forgetfulness of the principle of inter-generational parity is an irrational and inexcusable error which all previous generations of this ever expanding species share culpability in.
This forgetfulness is layered upon by another. The side-effects in actual life, unlike in models which assume perfect equilibrium, do not cancel each other out. There is another way to think about this theme: one man's compassion never fully cancels another man's aversion. Nor does one man's renunciation compensate for another man's greed. Each has to bear the consequences of his own act. Unlike physical constituents of a model, humans possess a consciousness which can act in myriad ways upon receiving a certain input or stimulation. This is probably the reason that models which come closer to a more realistic reading of financial markets are ones grounded in human psychology and not in statistics.
Seen from this standpoint, the exercise under discussion is one more addition to the archive of golden feats of 'thoughtless and avoidable shocks to society.'
2. Ignorance and forgetfulness of design principles and the concept of systems thinking can be forgiven provided it is devoid of any and all ideological impurities. However, it always pays well to dig into the history, proclivities and nature of those instigating a particular action. Any analysis of an action divorced from the real psychological intentions behind it is likely to lead to a paradox: the critics may curse the foolishness and carelessness of the instigator without realizing that by leaving out the ideological element from the analysis, it is the critics who are vying for the crown of foolishness. In this particular case, the ideological moorings of the prime mover and shaker are so well known, and so ably demonstrated throughout his career as a politician, that to ignore those mental habits (or maybe the more appropriate word is compulsions) is to climb up the economic ladder when the ideological staircase would have been a more pragmatic choice.
In the entire exercise, economics was a rationale proferred post-facto. A priori, it was a certain deep-rooted aversion, borne out of tenaciously clinging to specific views on the past and present of this geography variously labelled as India. This aversion, when it is so rooted in the mind, leads to a specific type of morality. It this morality, which in turn, drives the actions of an individual more than any other factor. When an individual blessed with such a moral outlook has cultivated a fairly well-honed skill of concentrating power and controlling decisions, it does not take much imagination to see that, at its core, ideology may be a stronger factor driving this decision than any theory of economics.
A mind in the grips of such morality is likely to misuse theories as reasons and events as excuses. It will be most attracted to those theories which are a curious case of inter-breeding of populism with radical shock therapies. Eveyone is invited to walk through the above proposition and satisfy themselves to its validity by recollecting incidents in their own lives which seem to follow a similar pattern. Every man, without exception, will find instances in his life, when he too has fallen prey to this mode of thinking. The only difference is that, for most, such a mode of thinking is like a nagging mother-in-law. For a small fraction, however, it takes the role of their very spouse. This exercise, leaving aside everything else, can be seen a wonderful example of a manifestation of such a habit of mind amongst a closed, but powerful, group of individuals.
3. Further, ideological moorings alone never reveal the full picture. The timing of any action by a public official, even the most innocent one, does lend it a political colour. Why November of 2016 and not any other month and year is a question worth asking. The timing of any action is what hinges it firmly to a particular context. It is surprising how little of the critical analysis in the mainstream press has left the element of timing improperly emphasized.
4. Finally, one does not expect a career politician groomed in an ideological school to be endowed with a profound sense of philosophy. However, one does expect the common-sense of others to see through the fact that the categories of black and white are quite amorphous and never lend themselves to a precise and universal definition. In the past, whenever the categories of black and white, right and wrong, have been made the subject of a politcal discourse the outcomes have never been worth relishing.
The reason being that such categories hide within them the conception of purification and cleansing. A Buddha talking about cleansing of the heart and the mind is very different from kings, politicians and corporate heads talking about what is right and wrong. The difference is only one: someone like the Buddha spoke about right and wrong after cleansing his soul to the last shred of impurity. Kings, politicians and corporate heads are in no position to claim the right to cleanse others when they are floating in sufficient impurities themselves. Most of the times (in fact, all of the times) there is an element of hubris and conceit lurking somewhere behind apparently well-meaning (or should we say well-seeming) intentions. The element of surprise in all of this is: why cannot the average common-man see through this absurdity? How can he give the leeway so easily to politicians, for them to appropriate the right to lecture others on morality? As G.K.Chesterton noted: When men stop believing in God, it is not that they stop believing: they believe in everything. To adapt the observation to the present context one could safely venture to say: When men stop believing in God, it is not that they stop believing: they start believing in false gods.
5. Psychology, of the common-sense variety, as noted above, will lead an average rational person to conclude that it was the presence of a deep-seated aversion that led to this note-exchange-programme. Psychology, again of the common-sense variety gleaned from the scriptures, would offer the explanation why many people who constituted, by all accounts, the very collateral damage of this exercise, gave their silent, and sometimes a not-so-silent, approval to this visibly theatrical charade.
Deep-down, and really deep-down, the support emerges from only one place in the heart of most men and women: an envy of those who possess a lot. This envy arose, in turn, because of the extent of visible gap in lifestyles of those who have it and are having more of it, and some of the aesthetic and actual cruelty which goes along with the acquisition of this kind of wealth. Envy is always preceded by a sense of aversion which in turn is preceded at a very subtle level by a sense of irritation borne of day to day contact with unpleasant events in one's life. When the instinct of envy overpowers, it leaves all reasoned morality behind and wishes for the downfall of those who are perceived to have amassed their comforts dishonestly. This ultimately takes the form of deep resentment (bordering at times on anger-at-the-click-of-a-mouse).
This raises an interesting question for those who prefer to dwell on moral questions above all others: is the morality of the envious (however righteous the envious may be in their envy) superior to the disingenuity of the ones called out as black? That is, does the support of the masses for this kind of an action erase the distinction between the white and the black? One answer is: the distinction would have prevailed if the ones so chaste and white had objectively and critically analysed the action, and realized that it was not such a noble endeavour after all, and thus voiced their disapproval of it. The white would have preserved their white-hood, and the black would have been really exposed. Unfortunately, the action about black-and-white ended up only sullying those who thought themselves very much white, and self-assuredly right. In all of this, the real black swans all flew away, and worse still, accumulated even more capital.
For God's own sake, and well-being, let us take our lessons in morality from the real G. And since we are a liberal democracy (despite the spoiling of its facade by this charade-of-an-exercise), we all have a choice of our Gods. The only constitutional constraint is: if they are human, their profession should not be politics. Rock musicians would by far make for a better candidate.
P.P.S: Trying to gain a priviledged privy view of inner workings of mind(s) which conjured this black magic is a vain attempt after a point. Hence, it is important to consciously divert our attention and remember what such a blunder reveals about the political tendencies which are likely to persist for the time the present political dispensation holds sway in India.
First of all, it reveals institutionalisation of a certain tendency to not allow attention of a polity to settle on issues of significance by introducing titillating political trivia from time to time. We use the word titillating with some justification to highlight the fact that continuous excitation of the psyche of the polity leads to a deterioration of its ability to reflect, and withers its creative faculty. And we also use the term trivia because, even though, an exercise like demonetisation might seem to have major political repurcussions, in its intellectual essence, it is not likely to satisfy the appetite of even an entry level economics graduate.
Which ruling dispensation would be interested in engaging in this kind of a continuous attention-deflecting process? One which lacks the experience, expertise and interest in the art of governance; or one which has an agenda different from the one it claims to be accountable to? One suspects, it is a bit of both in this particular case. The inescapable irony of the situation is this: any political dispensation which would engage in such an exercise with the motto 'pain in the short-term and gain in the long-term' would quickly realize for itself that the reality would work out the exact opposite for itself: 'gain in the short-term, and plenty of political pain in the long-term.' In more vivid terms, the elections in May 2014, and the sequence of cardinal sins committed thereafter heralded the 'parasitical Congressization of the BJP'.
But most of all, the polity as a whole should feel a sense of real shame at the tangible loss of the creative faculty of the political organ of India. Any creativity which exists is fully directed at outdoing the rivals. That is, all creativity and intellect which exists on the public stage today is directed only towards political ends. Very little of it is left at the end of the day to be directed to matters of serious governance and accountability.
And persistent creative reflection is what is the much needed cure today. A dejected analysis of the situation will not lead to a creative solution; nor one about continuously bemoaning loss of liberalism (though the common-man is unlikely bereave the loss). It is also a bit pre-mature to argue that we have dug out the ghosts of fascism from the grave for the simple reason that they never were exhumed in the first place; that the ideal of rational human beings is all a hog-wash; and that thinking of society in largely economic terms too is doomed for the dustbin.
Creativity demands that one is able to hold one thought and its exact opposite in the mind at the same time and, either, break-through to a third dimension, or create a valuable combination from the existing two. Hence, economics is both useless and useful at the same time. Liberal values are both a pre-requisite and a constraint at the same time. Fascism is alive yet quite dead at the same time. The notion of 'greatest good for good the greatest number of people' is both a chimera as well as a necessary ideal to peg our efforts on.
Honing our ability to persist, and strengthening our creative faculty will demand that we first modulate our expectations in line with reality. Secondly, we elevate our ideals even higher than they have been at any point of time in recent memory because no period of time places as great a demand on our ideals than one of apparent chaos. And where better to look for inspiration than the religious scriputres of yore? Surely, few ideals can surpass the messages buried inside the earliest of the tracts of the oldest of the religions?
After we have relaxed ourselves with the right expectations, and aroused ourselves with the right ideals, it is time to actually start some work. And since the challenge is quite nebulous we must figure out the right technique to break through the clutter. Fortunately, our scientific temper, or what remains of it, and rational ways of thinking can come to our rescue provided we are willing to use them the way they were meant to: not to invent the next cutting edge mobile application but to apply those same faculties to come to the direct assistance of members of our own species and all other species on this planet.
But all scientific search, including one for release from suffering & stress and realizing God, starts with a simple question. For Buddha the question was: does anyone know a way or two to ease my bewilderment from this mass of suffering and stress? For those engaged in matters of public governance, what will that question be? Maybe that could be the next Google Challenge to spark and test the creative faculties of the wide-eyed youngsters dreaming of recognition from the guardians of Silicon Valley.
There is little gain to be had from being critical of rational liberalism (or liberal rationalism --- it is always difficult to make up one's mind on such vague pairings). We must welcome philosophers, even of the political and economic variety some of whom may be currently battling an existential crisis, with open arms. An excess of refined rational intellect is never a problem; where and how such an intellect is applied is definitely something the public has to be constantly watchful of, with the experts not allowed to move their focus away from expertise to issues of position, privilege, promotion, pay, and in worst case, power. The art of governance demands skill. It does not demand a priviledged educational background, and worst of all, designations and labels that are beyond the pale of understanding of the general public, and one might add, common-sense of everyone.
Maybe that gives a hint as to what the question of public governance could be: how to really harness the collective intelligence of all these politicians, bureaucrats, technocrats,and others, so that they know what constitutes a real public good and what does not. A piece of knowledge which seems to be securely erased from our collective memory. Free-market capitalism, for once, fails to satisfactorily answer a question of contemporary and urgent relevance. Thank God, there finally is some real hope, irrespective of who holds the office of the President of the United States.
Yes, there will always be a tiny minority which will rule, and manipulate its power. But scepticism, cynicism and an overtly belligerent, fearful, exaggerated, and self-righteous counter-position will in fact add to that very concentration of power. Somewhere, the answer lies in the awakening of each individual and each family. So here is an SOS for some creative renegades who place their faith and actions on the higher moral law of 'my gain should never be your loss. Ever. Period.' If a change results in creation of us-versus-them, black-versus-white, evil-versus-good, such a change is doomed to fail. Always. Period. And if there is ever an impulse to revolt, it is preferrable it be along the lines of The Beatles' Revolution.
P.P.P.S: At a very philosophical level, let us all learn to separate the contextual from the categorical. It is easier in practice than it sounds in theory. Try it out. The better our practice, the lesser our attention will be on who will be in the President's office, and more on our own actions, speech and thoughts. If there is one benefit sure to pass from one generation to another, it will be this habit of how to think, and not what to think; and certainly not who to elect, which is the least of the botherations plaguing our species. It matters, but not as much as we seem to think.
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