Author's Diction~Vipin Behari Goyal: May 2016

Saturday, May 28, 2016

So It Was Not A Goodbye

                              The Divine Experiment

Photo By CC: Void To Void


Every end has a new beginning. I bid you a farewell. Thought, you will be lost in the mist and clouds of Himalayan Valley, and the world beyond that. We have departed never to meet again. Though this thought was depressing, but I had reconciled with it. I never look back, nor do I chase shadows. I just keep on walking in the opposite direction until everything stops making sense. I have deliberately separated your initials by a space, a void or rather a subtle void in between your initials. You are an illusion and reality at the same time. Once you were a reality, now you are an illusion.

I said to you few shocking things. Whatever I told you, my intentions were good. A man needs to be judged by intentions. My intention was to heal a bruised soul. A pure and divine soul, which was a victim of the callous world. Tears wash the stains of the soul. You said ‘you learned from me’, and you know what ‘I unlearned from you’. My learning had made me complicated, dubious and rational, which consumed my vital forces. Then I met you, a breath of fresh air. At first sight, I felt no vibration. You appeared just like any other Western girl looking for the solution of personal riddles in the mystic land. There is special providence in the fall of Sparrow (Shakespeare). The fresh air had touched my skin to penetrate deep and affect my psyche. I started unlearning. Will you be surprised if I tell you that now I am on the path of simplicity, faith and intuition. My intellect has deceived me. Now I need to ensure that intellect  was the real cause of my void.

Respect is not important. You always need a reason to respect somebody. But you can love anybody without a reason. Learning weaved a web around the senses and reduces perception. Love is that magic which breaks the talisman of flesh and makes you see things with feelings. That kind of unconditional love, a panacea of all suffering, evaporates like camphor in the heat of a ruthless world. You have hidden that love in the secret crevices of your heart and sometimes it overflows and soaks a deprived soul, just like an aimless drifting cloud of valley soaks a wanderer for nothing.

You need not to be grateful to anybody. Rather, people should be grateful to you for being around. As I am. If people are disappointed in you, it is their problem. They are greedy and want more, while you have already given more than they deserve. Forgive and forget them. They are normal selfish people who value a thing only when it has slipped out of their hand.

You wrote, “Also, some things you said..maybe I should have said something and I didn’t”. That makes you more beautiful as a person and as a human being. In these two dots followed by ‘maybe’ is the secret of the universe. This kind of silent conversation is the strength of any relationship. It is good to leave things unsaid. Conscience doesn’t permit us to be judgmental.

You are warm, as warm as cozy blanket you are wrapped up in the valley of Himalaya, right now. I would pity the person who does not find you warm. Why should you bother for such kind of insensitive person?

This whole gambit is no experiment. It is a divine plan. We cannot always make things happen. Sometimes they just do happen to us. Your smile is very precious CC, smile if it makes you happy to think that the entire episode was an experiment, but rest assured it was a divine experiment.



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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

Sunday, May 22, 2016

Great Expectations By Charles Dickens and Coolie By M.R. Anand

Is Munoo an Incarnation of Pip?

Pip at Estella's House

Mulk Raj Anand is a distinguished Indian writer in English. His work reflects social and economic concerns of the oppressed class of society. That results into injustice, class conflicts, and exploitation of the poor people by rich etc. Coolie is a novel first published in the year 1936. It is the life story of an orphan Munoo, a 14-year-old hill boy and his various kinds of exploitations as the underdog in the society. 

The novel is a panorama of Indian Society during the British Regime. The poverty and hunger across the various cross section of society in rural and urban area, evils of rapid industrialisation, consequential trade unrest and communalism due to British Policy in India and snobbish behaviour of Britishers in India is painted over the entire canvas of the novel.

Munoo is the hero of the novel. He is a victim of exploitation by relatives, employers and benefactors. Munoo is ill treated by his aunt, sent to work as a domestic servant in the house of a Bank cashier, suffers severe thrashing abuses and tortures finally runs away to another city. Works in a pickle factory, exploited by the Manager, the owner goes bankrupt and Munoo becomes a freelance coolie. Chasing mirage, he goes to Mumbai, where extreme torture and harassment awaits him as a child laborer in a cotton mill. He escapes a communal riot and an Anglo-Indian lady takes her to Shimla. He is physically and morally exploited until he suffers consumption and dies. The details about family background of Mrs. Mainwaring is unnecessary and uninteresting.  Anand wanted to entertain his European audience by padding. He miserably destroyed the flow of the novel.

Great Expectations is a novel by Charles Dickens first published in the year 1861. Charles himself had a troubled childhood and his descriptions of suffering and exploitations are more genuine and heart touching. Pip is the central character of the novel. He is 8 years old orphan living with abusive sister and kindhearted brother-in-law. He is taken to the house of a cynical rich lady living with her adopted daughter. He helps a criminal under threat, who in turn arranges education of Pip through an attorney in London. Pip reaches London, is disillusioned when comes to know about benefactor, and comes back to Kent and finds his first love, waiting for him.

Charles Dickens had to work in Blacking Factory when his was father was in Debtor’s Jail. Mulk Raj Anand was born in a well to do family and received his higher education in England.

Pip and Munoo, both are orphans. Both are ill-treated and abused by relatives in childhood. An orphan child is an economic burden on the poor families, whether it is England or India. Society of England and India are  patriarchal, but in domestic matters, the will of Lady of the house prevails. Pip is ill treated by his own sister Mrs. Joe and Munoo by his aunt. Pip’s first encounter with the opposite sex happens with Estella, and Munoo is enchanted by Sheila, the elder daughter of Bank cashier Nathooram. Estella slaps and rebukes Pip, Munoo bites the cheeks of Sheila, who teases him for banana while playing a monkey game. Pip determines to win the love of Estella, Munoo runs away, never to see Sheila again.

Pip reaches London, Munoo to Mumbai. This is turning point in both the novels. So far, both the novels cover the wide spectrum of society and can be called picaresque, but growth of Pip as an individual after every incident is remarkable, while Munoo remains the victim of drudgery his whole life. Pip is a round character while Munoo is a flat character. Great Expectations is an example of the Bildungsroman, Coolie is not.

Both the novels have female characters, but their relationship with the main characters has been left to the imagination of readers. Lakshmi, wife of Hari, and Mrs. Mainwaring soothes or inflame Munoo’s desires, while Estella and Biddy do the same for Pip.

Charles Dickens changed the end of the novel on the recommendation of Bulwer Lytton. Pip meets Estella at the end of the novel; Munoo finds solace in the arms of death, the eternal bride of sufferers.

Comparatively Munoo is a second-rate version of Pip.

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Goodbye Letter To CC

We look before and after, And pine for what is not. ~Shelley

Dear C_C

I worship, suffering. Especially when it comes from my own beloved people. I wonder on the means of my sufferings, because the causes are universal. Like all other human beings, I too have expectations and attachment. Therefore, I never presume my life to be devoid of suffering.

When our relationship was caught in an ennui, I knew either of us would take a step to terminate it. One with more self esteem would take a lead. So it had to be you. Being a good friend of the mirror, I knew almost everything about me. I do not know how people who have scarcely met me a few times or for a few days, claim to know more about me. Even you, not because you had other priorities, but because of your innocence, ignored what was vital to our relationship. Your moves and gestures betrayed what was going in your mind.

I refused to be a nucleus of your life, just because it would have killed either of us. There is no doubt that my suffering is due to my habit of seeing you around. First, you made yourself indispensable and then you walked away just like that.

I cherish this suffering and I would not be scared if happiness knocks at my door again and then leave me more bruised and hurt. I have surfed on the waves by choice. Sea has his own way of reciprocating love. Just like you. I really want a big wave to finish the story. To die choked by water and being eaten up by fishes. Life may be purposeless, but not the death.

Your intellectualism did not permit me to call you by any pet names. I know you hate being called ‘Darling”. I too think it to be obscene. But I do not understand why you always spoke in masculine gender. Why you were afraid of accepting your femininity? Innocence and insecurity go together, except in children. Even experience does not make you mature, otherwise you would not have made the same mistakes so many times. Maturity is just another name of cunnings. I can never fall in love with a cunning girl.

You always pretend to be a strong girl. Sometimes I could look into your eyes and know that you have cried. Crying is not a weakness, only strong persons are not afraid of crying. Your heart is butter, I have felt its smoothness, it melts even by little warmth, catches fire and gives burns.

Thankfully, we were honest with each other. Though both of us exaggerated while recollecting past. May be because we loved melodrama. Even we departed in a dramatic way. You said, “It does not matter, I go this way or that way”. Your kit was on my porch even though I had requested you to stay. For a moment, I thought you were playing a game. I immediately felt guilty to doubt your intentions. Your eyes were clear and honest. It really did not matter for you at that fraction of a moment. I knew what was best for you. To move. You have to melt tones of ice, before you could breathe normally. I bid you farewell with a heavy heart. Not even a goodbye kiss. I was afraid.

I still laugh when I remember how easily you accused me. You said you feel insecure of sexual assault with me and I refrained you from projecting your dirty mind on my character. Did you really think I could molest you? You are tempting, no doubt, but I have nothing to gain and much to lose. Though once or twice, I crossed the line and could feel your discomfort.

You have wonderful art of telling stories. But I am also worried about the way you tell a story. You are intense and sensitive. You relive every moment while telling a story. No CC No.  You have to detach and look at your past objectively. You have set your feet for a long journey, don’t change your path for trivial emotions. I miss you, so many people miss you. You also miss many of us; we are at your back. You are safe even if you fall back, but we all pray that you never fall back.


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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

Sunday, May 15, 2016

The Charisma of Epistolary Novels

Victor Hugo: "?" Publisher: "!"


Letter writing has become obsolete. Blogs have replaced diaries. Pamela
; or, Virtue Rewarded is an epistolary novel by Samuel Richardson in 1740. Epistolary novels is a novel written as a series of documents. The documents may be letters, diary entries, newspaper clipping, doctor’s note, ship’s Log, telegrams or e-documents such as messages, emails, blogs, graphics, emoticons etc.

Third person omniscient point of view narration in which the narrator knows everything like God, the future course of events and even what is going on in the mind of every character. The narrator has the option to be objective or subjective. If he chooses to comment and evaluate the action and motives of the character, he is an intrusive narrator. This form has remained popular amongst all the great novelists such as Fielding, Austen, Dickens, Hardy and Dostoevsky.

Even before Samuel Richardson published Pamela, Aphra Behn a British Playwright published three volumes of “Love Letters Between a Nobleman and his Sister” in the year 1685. It was based on a scandalous affair between Lord Ford and his Sister in Law, Henrietta.

Epistolary became a popular genre all over Europe during 18 Century. Henry Fielding wrote a pamphlet anonymously “An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews” (1741) to ridicule the Pamela. His most famous work “The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and His Friend Mr. Abraham Adams” begins as burlesque, but soon takes a form of “comic epic poem in prose”. This is supposed to be first authentic novel of English, despite the work of Daniel Defoe, Jonathan Swift and Richardson. Walter Scott called Henry Fielding the “Father of The English Novels” due to the theories given by Fielding in the forward of his novels Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones and Amelia.

Samuel Richardson learned the art of epistolary in his boyhood. He was often employed by less educated working girls to write love letters for them. Richardson had a natural talent of letter writing, and heard the sentiments of cupid stricken girls with great awe and admiration. The experience helped him in writing first famous book “Pamela”. It became so popular in England that this novel was found in the bag of every school and college going girl to pose that they too are virtuous like Pamela, have high morals and do not come under temptation.

Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker in their novels “Frankstein” and “Dracula” have made successful use of the epistolary form with wider applicability.
“The Diary of a Young Girl” by Anne Frank was published posthumously, by her father. It is not a work of imagination. It is the true story of the sufferings of Anne Frank a Jewish girl victim of holocaust.

Saul Bellow’s “Herzog” and Stephan Chbosky’s “The Perks of Being a wallflower” are most admired modern fiction. In “Color Purple” Alice Walker and “, The White Tiger” by Arvind Adiga are highly acclaimed by critics.
Epistolary has a history of glorious three hundred years. It seems that this genre would never be obsolete in literature lovers.

It is a unique experience of direct, intimate relationship between reader and protagonist. The faith and trust generated by bondage help the protagonist in revealing 'step by step' the inner most secret thoughts. Reader devour it like a 'stolen apple' since the letters are mostly not addressed to him. He finds pleasure in peeping into other’s lives. The diary is also a personal document where a writer can take full liberty in expressing his views creating an illusion of realism. The reader is tickled by a curiosity which is an impure form of imagination.

Since the authority of the author is lacking due to his choice of remaining unintrusive, the reader is free to make his own interpretation of the situation and action taking place in the novel. The moral conclusion, if any are to be drawn by the reader himself.

It is not necessary that letters would be posted. They may be a tool to keep the memories alive of a deceased person, or a past relationship. One could be honest and introspective in such letters. If letters are to be delivered to the person they are addressed, the narration may camouflage the emotions and events. Letters are expanded communication, to say something which you primarily could not communicate.

If the diary writer observed a chronology and on many days, nothing worth mention happened, later when publishing the diary comes to know about something happened during that time, or when publishing wants to retrospectively comment on the occurrence of events on a particular date has a poetic liberty to do so. Read Maya's Diary.

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

Friday, May 13, 2016

Metamorphosis Retold

Molly is a Pretty Cockroach

                   Franz Kafka’s story “The Metamorphosis” begins like this “As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was lying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his dome like brown belly divided into stiff arched segments”. 

                   He surely was talking about the metamorphosis of the main character into a cockroach. One fine morning - the author does not admit it to be fine for obvious reasons - the main character Gregor Samsa was metamorphosed into a cockroach. The universally accepted definition of metamorphosis is “the process of transformation from an immature form to an adult form in two or more distinct stages(in an insect or amphibian)”. The author seems to be of opinion that Gregor Samsa was immature,who by metamorphosis is transformed into a cockroach, which is an ‘adult form’ of ‘human form’. Well, there is no need to feel offended.

                   Look at this single cell lowest creature in the animal kingdom called Amoeba. It performs all the functions of eating, walking, sleeping and reproducing by his single cell body. His all acts are precisely balanced. He would develop limbs (Pseudopodia) depending on the distance it wants to walk. He would reproduce when his security is in danger. The process is amazingly simple and unemotional. Obviously, he has a thinking mind. Human beings are a complex structure of 37.2 trillion cells to perform all these functions. To complicate it further, he has a mind filled with ego, emotions and logic.

                 Critics search for metaphors, simile, satire and symbols even in simple prose written with honest intentions. Therefore, they presume that human life is reduced to an insect for the people living in ghettos. Let us not forget that Kafka was a Jew and was brought up by a father who was a strict disciplinarian. How low somebody can make you feel? A worm? An insect?

While T. S. Eliot in “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” says 

                   “And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall” . 

                   There is a lot of difference in feeling like a worm and feeling like an insect.The cockroach is now a beautiful teenage girl, with all habits of her original form. Let us call her Molly. As a cockroach she lived in a deserted house because it was safe for inhabitation. She knew human beings despised them a lot and are always well prepared to kill them on first sight. She felt safe and healthy to live in this deserted apartment. Nobody bothered her here and she could live a solitary life wandering in the whole big apartment.

                   The female cockroach Molly use to live in a nearby junk house. She was a member of a big community there. The Relationship was not important. Nobody cared for blood relations. Any grown up could mate with anyone. She was teenage considering her life span to be 1.5 years. “Calling position”(to invite males to copulate) came very naturally to her and her instincts taught her to spread her wings and expose her membranes and expand genital chambers to ooze pheromone. She was surrounded by male cockroaches flapping their wings. It was a dark night and she could not really know who deposited sperms on her back. Though it doesn’t matter much also.

                   After depositing her ‘egg case’ “Ootheca” safely under warm and damp gutter line of junk store, she had abandoned the junk store, in search of new land. Luckily, the deserted apartment was at a walking distance, for she was always afraid of short flights, which made her conspicuous and vulnerable. She spent a few nights with the feeling 

I am Monarch of all I survey; My right there is none to dispute” 
~William Cowper: The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk.

                   Molly had a small stomach. The owner of the apartment must have left in a hurry, for there was enough food left all over flat. Molly did not like the food in the kitchen where it was readily available. She preferred to hunt for it from dining table, dustbin, flowerpots and sinks.

                   Molly did not bother to clean the apartment. She slept in soiled bed and walked on dusted floor.Once out of curiosityand ennui, she opened the window. A blow of fresh air hit her nostrils. She squeezed her nose, as she was accustomed to stink aromas only. In the window of the opposite flat, a handsome man was staring at her.

                   She hurriedly closed the window. She was about to move when she saw at the sill another cockroach staring at her with blank eyes. He introduced himself in their cockroach slang. "Hey, I am Gregor Samsa; what are you doing in my flat?”

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

Monday, May 9, 2016

Trump, Modi and Tughlaq

Dualism of The Man and The Hero

If we forget Time and Space and value all politicians on the same scale, we find that politicians are the archetypes that are devoid of idealism. Whenever their first prototype was made, the clod was configured with certain properties, and the same clod is being used universally. So the visual difference is the art of the potter. Pottery is not ‘art for art sake’ but is ‘art with a purpose'. Howsoever beautiful pot one may make, the purpose it would serve, dominates its existence. Another important quality of the pot is its ‘easy destructibility’. A thing created after hours of toil may be destroyed within seconds. A handful of dust. The ultimate end of everything that exists.

Both genders can serve the purpose of power houses. It is an individual's choice where he wants to draw his power from. When the majority of individuals have same choice, the power sources would become symbols of that culture, which were later divided into the boundaries of nations. If a nation has reached the greatness by following a certain path, it is not easy to change the trend of the stream. We want a change, not from masculinity to femininity, but from one kind of masculinity to another kind of masculinity. Democracy is respecting the will of the people. A true democracy should also ban any kind of propaganda to influence that will of the people. That would save taxpayers money and large scale corruption in politics. It is still too early to presume that kind of maturity from any culture.

The choices that life offers are either ‘meek’ or ‘aggressive’. The bible says, “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth’ (Matthew 5:5). But meek needs to be led by some strong and aggressive leader. That is how Tughlaq, Trump and Modi become rulers. To shape the destiny of nations and people. All of them are benevolent, permissive and visionary, but they suffer from the “dualism of the man and the hero”. When it comes to US, the leader could shape the destiny of our planet, or maybe universe and the entire humanity.

Brihadaranyaka Upanishad 5.1.1 says “That is the absolute, this is the absolute; from the absolute, the absolute becomes manifest; when the absolute is added to or taken away from the absolute, the absolute remains.”The word absolute can be replaced by “Whole”, “Completeness”, “Limitless”, “Full”, “Infinite” or “Perfect”. From the existentialist point of view, this is “Void”, “Nothingness”, “Meaninglessness” and “Vacuum”. Every great leadership, of which “Hamlet” is an Archetype example, arises from this void. The present ‘Being’ of humanity is meaningful, only in the light of the future towards which we project ourselves. Man has already lost himself in order to ‘to be’ something unachievable. The futility of his passion has filled him with a void. Only a visionary leadership can make constructive use of this Void.

True blessings always come in disguise. If all Asians are sacked from US, it will be an act of great kindness on coming generations. The Asian diasporas are not so materialistic as their western counterparts are. They are sentimental type of people and are confused with the value system. All Diaspora literature indicates that Asians living anywhere except their native country suffer from ‘identity crisis’. The time has come when all should find a place in the country of their origin, be they are Jews, Muslims or Christians. The process of migration was 'need of the hour' at that time. People were looking for opportunities. Now every land has an opportunity, so to encroachment on others land, others means of productions, others culture and others opportunity is no more required. The object of enriching one’s own self and enriching the host country is over. Moreover, it would free them from guilt of deserting their kith and kin. They would no more be required to imitate a culture, that is making them ridiculous not only in the eyes of the host country, but also in the eyes of their own fellow countrymen.

Though an idealistic politician is a misnomer, but even if we have one, the redundant bureaucracy is the biggest hurdle in the implementations of schemes of social welfare. They have become a bunch of pessimistic sadist, and their overhauling is beyond the capacity of any politician, howsoever strong he may be.

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

         Advocate, Rajasthan High Court, Jodhpur

Sunday, May 8, 2016

A Blind Man in The Red Light Zone

Beggars Can also be choosers


Ved Mehta in his autobiography “Face To Face” says “No matter how well trained one was in mobility, how well adjusted to a seeing society, there were always some lampposts left out of one’s calculations.”

The lampposts are made by society to facilitate nocturnal activities of human beings. In literature night stands for spiritual death, a lack of faith, darkness of the soul or it may be peace and tranquility, an end of the road, a well lived day. Night ceases natural shadows and natural vision. John Donne in his poem “A lecture upon the shadow” talks metaphorically about love and vision. The 'dream vision' is divine in origin and helps artists in shaping the destiny of mankind. The power has blinded this man who is currently wandering in the street of whores. He does not have any self-respect. Otherwise, he would not have been here. The street is full of many lampposts, erected randomly. The blind man was an expert in making fluid movement in crowded places. What appeared as chaos to a seeing man was a pattern for the blind man. But, he was deceived by the randomness of lampposts. His logical mind was unable to find a pattern in their randomness. Therefore, he chose to walk randomly and was saved. He wore black goggles to hide his blindness. He had no deliberate objective in visiting the street.

He was hurt, when he could not buy things with money. He had full faith in the power of money. He was walking on the street of tainted souls. In every soul, he saw his own face, more tainted. His third eye, which had saved him from colliding with any lamppost, provided no rescue from colliding to tainted souls. His frustration grew after every collision. They have made everything saleable and he acquired power to purchase anything. Now he was not sure if he made more compromises to acquire that power, or the girls in the street have made more compromises to sell off themselves. If the body is the gift of God, and to sell it is a sin, then all his companies that sold bottled water, fertilizers, seeds, tobacco, papers, honey and herbs were also unethical. The Blind man had sharp ears. He could listen to the footsteps of many shadows chasing him, as he could hear the artificial moans and groans across the street.

The Blind man felt a strange kind of tension mounting in him. He had long back asphyxiated his conscience and was sure that his bruised ego would be soothed by the act of display of his power. He believed that Gold is the best aphrodisiac in the world. He liked to preserve his money in the form of gold. He had used tones of gold to make the floor of his swimming pool. He no more trusted his instincts. He had maintained only those relations which were useful to him. He never looked down the memory lane, and resolved that it was just an imposter who had seized his memories as himself. Strangers are repulsive.

He smelled various kinds of perfume in the street. He had no liking for perfumes. He still loved the pure aroma of flowers. He did not understand this dichotomy of his character. His whole life was artificial and purposeless. The natural aroma had a purpose. It could awaken his sleeping conscience.

He heard a female mellifluous voice. The voice was enough proof of her other effeminate qualities. As soon as the girl came to know that he is blind, she threw him out. His money could not tempt her. The deprived and destitutes have become the mainstream of society. They have conspired against the haves. Beggars have become choosers.

The Blind man was stuck in the red light zone.

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Modern Man And Naked Shingles

Dover Beach is an Unrealized Dream


Matthew Arnold in his poem Dover Beach has expressed grief on the split personality of Modern Man. The dichotomy of    consciousness is eternal. The Fall of Adam is The Fall of Atom Bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Satan is the Collective Consciousness of Scientist who invented, politicians who took the decision and Enola Gay who dropped the Bomb. Just look at the irony, a Gay would be the biggest source of misery in the history of humankind.

What could be heavier than the guilt a nation would carry on his conscience. Moreover, what could be more shameful than a refusal to accept of a crime towards humanity, irrespective of the boundaries of nations? What do we propose to coming generations? Where is the expiation of guilt? Who would propitiate our sins?

When they had a choice, nations, scientists, politicians and capitalists, they took wrong decisions. The Sea of Faith has dried. The romantics are disillusioned, searching for the shoulder to weep. They find no sympathizers and weep alone on the George Street amongst the crowd.

Weeping is catharsis. It is repentance. It is a confession of a finite before the infinite. It is a lament of an innocent child before his Father who is kind. If you could weep like a child, you still have some hope left in you. Imagine the day when you would want to weep, but no tears would come to your eyes. You would make a hollow sound that would scare everyone around you, because they too suffer from the same guilt and have stopped making efforts to weep. You would be wrapped in that silence which is born not by bliss, but by agony and frustration.

Tragedy of the Modern Man is that he is constantly chasing the solution of those mysteries that God has deliberately hidden from humane conception. This leads to unresolved pessimism. Though agape is a solution, but due to lack of faith we do not consider it as an option.

Matthew remembers Sophocles in his poem to show that he shares his pessimism. Crime is mostly punished, not only by society but also by consciousness and collective unconsciousness of that person. Eugene O' Neill has beautifully described in Emperor Jones, how the past haunts the present and destroys the future of a person. But how do we explain the suffering of guiltless persons? Harold Kushner has asked some very pertinent questions in his book "When bad things happen to good people."

Didacticism is not The Pure Art. Therefore, artists have spared themselves for being instruments of social change. Ideal politician has remained a misnomer, since the dawn of politics.
Is there any hope of redemption?

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©  Vipin Behari Goyal