*Trigger Warning: Violence*
Which song track would you listen to for the very last time if you were given a choice? Do you have a playlist ready for such circumstances, or is there one track above all you would select without thinking or would you just reach out to Beethoven or Mozart or Bach or Chopin or Vivaldi or Hindi Classical Music or would you deep dive into some romantic songs?
Remember you have to choose wisely because it could be for the very last time. Maybe the last time lasts for days or weeks or months or years or decades and if you’re unfortunate, maybe even millennia. Tell me. No, don’t tell me. Let’s have you put it in the background so that you’re able to connect with what you’re about to read.
I will certainly wait for you, my dear friend. I call you my dear friend, despite us being total strangers because I write to you with absolute honesty and without any restraints. Albert Camus referred to you in his famous work The Fall as “mon chéri”. So I think it’s only fair that I refer to you as mon chéri.
Camus rightfully encapsulated human nature and the existence of free men and women when he wrote, “A living man can be enslaved and reduced to the historic condition of an object. But if he dies in refusing to be enslaved, he reaffirms the existence of another kind of human nature which refuses to be classified as an object.”
It’s in honour to the brilliant man and the way I have found my own selfishness to cross mires of feelings that I understood how small my imagination of pain and suffering once was. Indeed, always imagining myself to be an optimist, I realised why being a realist becomes much more sensible.
Just like an optimist knows how wrong they can be, a realist understands the consequences, both good or bad, of being right or wrong in real-time. Such consequences are important because they define either being a slave and an object or a free human. Laws of men should be struck off when centuries after centuries, they continue to apply to different men differently.
Am I distracted? Oh yes, indeed-indeed-indeed, you’re absolutely right about that as well, mon chéri. But for now, let’s be skeletons with brains since humanity seems to have left this earth. There are subtle glimpses of it once or twice amongst the poor or vulnerable, but other than that; humanity is dead.
No-no-no, I didn’t say religions are dead; I said humanity didn’t survive humans. Religions can never die. Humans always make sure that religions survive, even if it means killing humanity and its allies with their own bare hands.
Oh, you disagree with me, mon chéri? I don’t blame you. After all, how can we accept that we are the real cause of all the pain and suffering? How can we accept that our greed to dominate dwarfs all that was supposed to be good about humanity?
How indeed can we accept that those who amplify this greed amongst us live amongst us and despite our knowing it to be hazardous, we keep consuming the poison of wanting more, needing more, consuming more and in this process of killing more and more?
You are right indeed once again, mon chéri, how grateful I am to meet such a charming personality such as yourself. You’re indeed wiser than all the Prophets combined. Oh, did I sink into sycophancy? I was only trying to be a human that humanity today recognised. The ones with the truth are either shot down or mowed down by wagons and cars or are left inside filthy prisons for life.
Mon chéri, you seem perplexed. Don’t worry; I am not attacking your conscience; I was merely trying to poke it with a stick to see if it responds. I know they killed our conscience long ago, but still, I was curious since they didn’t cremate or bury or left it to be ruptured by the vultures and crows. Actually, the latter bit may be true, they did leave us dead inside, for it to be mutilated and eaten by scavengers.
Am I being rhetorical? Yes. I am also being literal since we walk tall and head upwards. But when we see evil, we start to look away, just like an observer from afar who watches scavengers doing what nature made them do.
Oh, not at all, you got me very wrong this time, mon chéri. I do not dislike the latter form of discarding from this nature. I find it very interesting, as just like the scavengers, evil men and women in our surroundings are also created by nature. When they consume people, both good and bad alike, they also do their part as per their nature and existence.
Do you think we have diverted mon chéri? Quite the contrary. We have finally found the right path to walk on. Will you accept my hand as we go down this path of broken glasses barefoot. Remember, we only have a 15-meter walk on the burning coals later on. But since our feet would have already bled to numbness by then, we will not have to worry about burning our feet. What a relief, isn’t it?
You don’t want to walk on the broken glass? You don’t even want to walk on the burning coals? But, mon chéri, it’s very important for humanity that we do that since only then can we purify our sins. Who told me this? Nobody.
Do you think I am crazy? No-no-no, you don’t get it. See, our collective history reminds us of the very fact that nobody remembers who told them what is to be done for atonement, yet everybody knows. How else would they know if somebody as ingenious as me didn’t make this sort of stuff centuries ago?
But we will leave it aside since now we are on the verge of getting lost and we must find the right path. We must reach somewhere meaningful after a journey because if we only had to find meaningless places after journeys, we would not get out of our beds ever again.
The Lakhimpur Incident
Roughly 80 hours ago, I was informed that more than four farmers had died due to a confrontation between the goons of the ruling party in one of the States and the protesting farmers. After a few hours, it came to the light that there was no confrontation in the beginning but that the goons rammed a car into the protesting farmers, killing some and injuring many others.
The alleged goons were none other than son and men of the Union Minister of Home Affairs, the same minister who had openly threatened to do something like that just a week or so back. Time went by and then again, a few hours later, a video came to light whereby it could be seen how farmers were peacefully walking when a Mahindra Thar Jeep came from behind and hits them.
It hits them, and for a moment, everything I had learnt or read about humanity turned to bits.
It hits them at a good speed. It was intentional murder but of the most monstrous and brutal manner in broad daylight. The Jeep hits the farmers, first hitting a man with the pink turban on the side and in the same moment, it hits an elderly Sikh man wearing a green turban. That elderly gentleman is carried on the bonnet of the Jeep and later thrown away.
Mon chéri, I couldn’t believe what most people aren’t comfortable watching or doing on a video game, these monstrous vermin filled people did that in broad daylight to the peaceful crowd. In the same instant, the Jeep runs over many people and we see the darkest evil of humanity rising as a wicked spirit with its black wings unfolded, smiling, tenaciously grabbing the souls of those innocent dead farmers in its black clutches, laughing and lauding those evil goons, that devilish spirit takes their souls away.
Mon chéri, you think I am lying? Not at all. In fact, those innocent, yet dead farmers remained there with people around them, trying to save them, save them somehow even when they knew it wasn’t possible to make someone breathe or to keep someone breathing. But a few never breathed again and the few who did, lost it while on the way to the hospital.
I wasn’t able to forget the elderly Sikh gentleman with his green turban.
I wasn’t able to forget the elderly Sikh gentleman with his green turban.
I wasn’t able to forget the elderly Sikh gentleman with his green turban.
I am still not able to forget that elderly Sikh gentleman with his green turban.
What Happened Afterwards?
What always happens, what has always happened and what will always happen.
We, all of us, except a few misguided souls on earth who guarded their bodies, washed their bodies, wept on those bodies, wept for those bodies, wept for their memories, wept for their past, wept for their present, wept for their not-so-coming future; all of us killed them again and again.
I realised afterwards, much long after, that the devilish spirit wasn’t only lauding those goons but all of this wretched humanity that was going to kill those men and their memories and their past, present and future again and again. That devilish spirit was lauding us all, who from a distance allowed everything that transpired afterwards.
What happened afterwards was that their cremation was tried to be done in a hurry. Then, as the night came to an end, the media houses started to fill poison in the brains and veins of us all, the general public, the marquee citizens, the honoured patrons of evil, and spread their big and small lies every which way.
Do I sound like I am referring to those evil men and women we discussed earlier? Yes, indeed, you do have quite a memory and wit about you. They did what they were meant to do according to their nature of evilness. They spread lies, shouting them at the top of their lungs and narrated false stories or imaginative propaganda material whilst many remarkable souls guarded those dead bodies against the vultures who would’ve smothered and desecrated their existence in just an instance.
What did we do? Mon chéri, we soaked ourselves in pain first, then we soaked our hands in the elixir of life, which allowed us to conjure the magic of forgetfulness. We deliberately started to look elsewhere, being afraid that we might have to atone for our sins by accepting and acknowledging the reality, which the same media houses told us was “negativity” which we must do away with at the earliest or else we risked being accountable. Therefore, we risked being truly humane.
Then we saw some other distressing and disturbing videos and started to sync in to find more for ourselves about this murderous plot. By night, we saw through so much that it became too much for us to digest. We then switched off our eyes and slept peacefully, knowing that nobody could drive in like that in our bedrooms.
What Happened To The Culprits?
What? You want to know what happened to those goons, to that minister and his son? Nothing, they simply slept off it too. Were they arrested? Are you ridiculing me? Of course, there weren’t any arrests. There were no arrests even after 146 hours.
You want to know whether the minister resigned or was fired? Again, mon chéri, don’t try to be ridiculous, it doesn’t suit you. Of course, there were no resignations, the minister was not fired or sacked.
They were allowed to roam free without any judicial oversight. They were allowed crucial hours to plan their stories, to plan every sort of defence available in the books or shows or movies. In such a long time, they would’ve been able to create false pieces of evidence, rub off and do away with the real evidence with professional help.
By the time they’ll reach any sort of court, they will be as clean as the sample return tubes used by NASA’s Perseverance Mars rover.
You say it doesn’t seem fair? Of course, it isn’t fair. When has it been fair in this country when it came to the poor and vulnerable? Only the rich and the powerful get what’s fair and more and they’re still fighting over little things with each other.
But the poor and vulnerable never get and will never get what’s fair in India. And why should they? As per the capitalistic principles, only that thing matters which is able to generate wealth. How can the poor ever be validated to be equal to the rich? They can only hope to become equal to the rich and get fair treatment in India only when they cease to be poor or cease to exist.
Who’s fault is this? Of course, that’s a fair question. If you ask the masters and the mortals on this land today, they will unanimously point the finger at Mahatma Gandhi first and then towards Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru.
It is such a subtle thing that the two opposing forces come together at all times to blame everything on these two figures. The far-right and the right-wing outfits have other Congress figures to blame as well — The Gandhi’s. But we will come to it later someday if at all I survive.
On the other hand, liberals in this country have not yet found an appropriate person on the right to blame, so they shyly blame the incumbent right-leaning Prime Minister.
Mahatma Gandhi was shot dead and that was his biggest mistake. Right-wingers wish it would’ve happened earlier and normal human beings wish that it never happened at all. I happen to fall in the latter group, but that doesn’t matter at all now. Mahatma Gandhi died for us all.
Mahatma Gandhi was murdered in broad daylight when he was peacefully walking.
Mahatma Gandhi was murdered in broad daylight when he was peacefully walking.
Mahatma Gandhi was murdered in broad daylight when he was peacefully walking.
The four farmers were murdered in broad daylight when they were peacefully walking.
I wonder if the authorities of that time would have allowed Nathuram Godse to flout the crime scene and scheme out everything before taking him into police or judicial custody if he was the son of a minister in the incumbent Government. Such wonderings take one far away in imagination that bringing ourselves back means accepting that we are living in the land of Mahatma Gandhi, for which his blood was spilt, for which he died.
I wonder what Shaheed Bhagat Singh would say to Shaheed Mahatma Gandhi today regarding the Shaheed farmers and journalist? I wonder if Shaheed Bhagat Singh says, “I told you so.” Or does he, in a flight of surprise himself, stay stunned, unable to utter anything more than “Waheguru”.
Shaheed Bhagat Singh laid his life for this country just like many others before and after him, but his message was clear. Today his message to us rings in our ears, eyes, minds and hearts clearer than it has ever before. He didn’t showcase us the way to violence. He rather showcased a path of keeping Inquilab Zindabad (Long Live the Revolution) and keeping Inquilab in our hearts, minds, consciousness, souls and existence even more dearly and sincerely.
The Revolution and the Inquilab need perseverance and patience from its people today. It requires mothers to acknowledge whether their child is a farmer or not, whether their children are aware of the meaning of Inquilab yet.
Mother’s, all our mothers, our true goddesses and our harbinger of souls must accept and prepare us, you and me both, make us ready to withstand such atrocities and evils with even fiercer bravery and even stronger dedication towards the commitment to not rest until after the Inquilab is made Buland, until the Revolution fructifies and until and unless the weak and poor are free from the black clutches of those who live in high towers and are making even higher towers.
Our Mothers have this collective responsibility to instil peace in our souls so deeply that no matter how much they hurt us, we can withstand through it to make the Inquilab Buland, to make the Inquilab Zindabad and to make the Inquilab only about freeing the oppressed from its oppressors, wherever we find such evil lurking.
Our fathers have the collective responsibility to look us deeply in our eyes and tell us without uttering a word that they are proud of us. Every father must look towards their child as another Shaheed Bhagat Singh. Not as the Bhagat Singh who gave his life, but the Bhagat Singh who wasn’t afraid to die, answer the question of his last wish.
Fathers need to raise that their child may be crushed under the Jeeps of the oppressors, subject to anti-terror laws and have to take upon more evil than imaginable.
Hitler never cared for his people; Stalin never cared about his, and nothing is different with ours. Our Hitler does not care about the general people and that’s why people are being forced to live like animals today with the rising inflation and an equally distraught economy.
Crime has reached all-time highs and in all this, an unprecedented thing has happened, the people have finally started to see through the courts and what they see is not likeable. They see how justice has been blindfolded for so long in India that it has lost all sense of right or wrong, just like Dhritarashtra from Mahabharata.
Mon chéri, forgive me, but I couldn’t help myself tell you how I saw things and generalised it a bit. I hope you don’t find it too distasteful. In a span of 84 hours, I have seen peaceful men being rammed intentionally by goons, seen weeping families, friends and strangers, witnessed degraded and foul-smelling media house anchors who use the most expensive perfumes but stink of the worst sort
I have seen mothers and fathers scared for their children and children scared for their parents. I have seen Indians worried for India and I have seen a Prime Minister who does not care about his public. I have seen it all.
And I still can’t seem to forget that elderly Sikh gentleman with his green turban.
And I still can’t seem to forget that elderly Sikh gentleman with his green turban.
And I still can’t seem to forget that elderly Sikh gentleman with his green turban.
Which song would I choose to listen to if it was my last time? The same I will always listen to if I am to face a shooting squad or a fascist with a gun or Jeep. The one that doesn’t make me fear death anymore, I chose to hear…
Mon chéri, you thought there would be more? Of course, but not today.