Contradiction rules the roost.
Mankind has always prided itself on its ability to think rationally, spiritually, sensibly in a ‘civilised’ (a word owing its etymology to anthropological vicissitudes, but then, are al) manner. The culture, the linguistics, the oration decide the impeccability of a man, in a society whose norms have ever been so hypocritical that the shock holds no place in the emotion experienced when enlightened about someone going against his own saying, just the nod indicating the confirmation of the previously held notion, or maybe, the sycophantic sigh to assure the company who the bastard really is.
This imitation of a fluid state, which as has been drilled into my head by a CBSE science book, has ‘neither definite volume nor definite shape and takes the shape of the container’, has been the subject of my rumination for some time now, alongside Wodehouse and naked girls (with absolutely no relation between any of them. Somehow I think one will crop up). No different from a chameleon we are, changing colours, flicking out the deathly tongue to vanquish a hapless being. We derive solace from the fact that everyone else does so too, it’s a fact of life, the rule of nature. Deflection would be blasphemy. Deflection is for bawling babies born sucking silver spoon, or the ones who cut themselves free from the umbilical cord and procured one from the cutlery shop. Deflection needs effort.
The same deflection mentioned aggravatingly no less than three times in the last paragraph has no definitive connotation regarding its nature; whether such a thing would be ethically monstrous or simply good. I think of Taliban, of Maoists, of those supposedly tyrannical terrorists. They did deflect. They are right in their own way, wrong in ours. Yet, he fits again in the colloquial container forged by those other terrorists who have set a precedent first. He holds the highest esteem for the heads of his institution, listening to them and believing in their views. Moreover, fighting for your motherland, cause, belief isn’t terrorism, but martyrdom. No more a deviation, is it?
The inborn instinct within to mould ourselves might be attributed, and subsequently, justified by evolutionary explanations, all of them, no doubt, may perhaps be true. Herbert Spencer in the same vein had years ago remarked “Survival of the Fittest”. It is on account of our vulnerability that we feel the need to conform. And hasn’t all of this been brought about by a torrential profusion of sentiments? Every deed done has a certain emotion attached. An observation perceived by me (might pertain to just myself) is that there is no unambiguous distinctness to any of the different emotions we echo, be it cheerful, vindictive or melancholic. A sense of despair which haunts one may be with some effort converted to any other, and not into just what we classify into as a negative one, so that our sanity remains intact. Or maybe, we just subdue them. Thereafter be accused of not being ‘human’ enough. Funny how downright snobbish we can be.
The thin partition between right and wrong is permeable, even as it holds its contents in a big round ball, which, as it is kicked with wild abandon, shakes the foundations of what might earlier have been regarded as the truth. The iniquitous entity percolates through to the other section and voila! Everything’s twisted. As I look at the world now it appears surreal, but I know it for a fact I still will laugh at a lame joke rendered by a friend, or still be courteous to elders. You must probably think by now what is this shit that I scribble. You have to tarry no more, as it comes to an end.