Reflection:
Six Hundred and Sixty-Six
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One. I’m sketching a character. In first person. The character is somewhat like Humayun Ahmed’s Himu. On Humayun Ahmed’s birthday, this is how I pay my respects.
I’ll post the first part of the piece within the hour. Until then, let me give you an interesting task. Try to find out which character from which book inspired Humayun Ahmed to create his character Himu?
(The answer lies in one of my writings; those who have read it should remember.)
By the way, on this day Rabindranath Tagore received the Nobel Prize.
Two. The protagonist of Subodh Ghosh’s novel ‘Shun Barnari’ is named Himadrishekhar Datta. People call him Homeo Himu, Himuda, and such names. Homeo Himu is by nature altruistic, bohemian, detached, simple, magnanimous. Himu had made it his life’s vow to selflessly throw himself into helping others.
This book was very dear to Humayun Ahmed. After learning that his Himu character was created inspired by Himadrishekhar Datta’s character, I began searching for the novel. Hard copies of the book were rare, and Facebook wasn’t much in circulation then either. When I couldn’t find the book despite searching desperately for a very long time, I had become quite restless. Then one day, at a used bookstore called ‘Amar Boi Ghar’, while browsing various books as was my daily habit, I found the novel in a collection of some of Subodh Ghosh’s writings. I cannot describe in words how happy I was that day! My obsession with books was unimaginably intense!
That day, in my joy, I hugged the store clerk and forcefully pressed 100 taka into his hand, saying, “Brother, buy some sweets with this. You don’t even know what a favor you’ve done me!”
(I felt such joy again much later when, after searching for many days, I finally found Italo Calvino’s ‘Invisible Cities’.)
Later, I was delighted to watch the movie ‘Shun Barnari (1960)’ starring Uttam Kumar.
Good thing is, I’ll post the first part of that piece shortly, where you’ll find traces of Humayun’s Himu.
Three. A friend asked, “Hey, how are you?”
I said, “Oh, I’m quite under control!”
(Later I noticed I’d missed pronouncing a vowel sound. It needed correction. Then I thought, what’s the need to correct it? It’s right as it is!………..Ah, how many right things we say through slips of the mind!)
Four. Once, not wanting you was the pride of my entire life.
And now, not having you has become the regret of my entire life.
Five. If you do such wrong to someone that they become severely traumatized by your actions, so much so that—
They can never again trust anyone else from your area,
They can never again trust anyone else from your institution,
She can never again trust anyone of your gender,
She can never again trust anyone in your profession,
She can never again trust anyone in your position,
—Know this, then:
You are a sinner. Because of you, one human being can no longer trust another. The inability to trust humanity—there is no greater punishment than this. To live distrusting people is impossibly difficult; it creates tremendous psychological stress. You will certainly receive punishment for placing someone in such mental anguish without cause. And if you don’t, then before your very eyes, someone you love will suffer it. Perhaps even your own child will suffer, in your lifetime. They will writhe before your very eyes. You will be able to do nothing to save them—only watch helplessly.
Wait.
Time forgives no one.
You must die answering for the injustice you committed against her.
Six. People refuse to pay fairly for art; they show miserliness. They think, what’s there to pay so much for this? It didn’t take much time to make it. Such foolishness is deeply irritating.
Some guardians think a hundred times before paying tutor fees. The teacher only teaches an hour at a time, and only three days a week—why should I pay so much! Yet what can be learned from six minutes of conversation with a good teacher cannot be learned from six hours of instruction by a poor one.
I get texts in my inbox: Brother, just give me ten minutes of your time.
(I think: someone who considers my ten minutes as “just” ten minutes—there’s no point giving them even ten seconds.)
To teach you this might cost me only ten minutes. Not much, just ten minutes. You so easily asked me for those ten minutes. Just ten minutes! How many ten-minute periods slip by in the blink of an eye! Why shouldn’t I give you a mere ten minutes?
What I can give you in those “mere” ten minutes took me ten years to learn. Yes, you heard correctly—ten years. What I learned through ten years of hard work, I can indeed teach you in just ten minutes. Yes, I truly can! Why should I give you those ten minutes?
Show me a reason. If you have no reason, manufacture one.
Much labor and time went into my learning this. It didn’t just fall from the sky onto my head.
The person who can drill something valuable into your head in just ten minutes—those ten minutes have a price. What some people’s combined ten weeks are worth, that person’s ten minutes are worth infinitely more. This is called quality time, boss! Learn to understand this.
What cannot be learned in two hours sitting in one teacher’s class can be learned far better in just two minutes in another teacher’s class. You’ve paid both of them the same salary, haven’t you? Some things cannot be learned with money. Those are the most precious things. You’re asking me for something I don’t have. So how can you expect to get it from me?
I still remember a truant teacher we had. He would teach for only ten minutes. And he wouldn’t even come to every class. Back then I thought, it’s because of these lazy people that the country isn’t progressing. Don’t they feel guilty taking that salary? The teacher didn’t teach us for long—he left for a scholarship abroad. Later I understood that what he taught us in ten minutes, no one else could teach in ten hours. Even ten seconds of a genius is priceless! Geniuses don’t have salaries. It’s impossible to pay geniuses what they deserve.
When the teacher was available, we couldn’t appreciate his worth.
When he became unavailable, we finally understood his value.
It’s not right to give people your time too easily. When someone gets time too easily, people think they’re cheap.
We’re people of this country, so even if a goat sits in front of us putting on airs, we think that goat is valuable.
But how does one get time? Nothing in this world is more precious than relationships. In the name of relationship, people are ready to give everything. Ten minutes is such a trivial thing compared to that!
There’s another claim. The claim of affection. The person from whom you’re asking for time—they must like you, or like the reason and manner in which you’re asking for their time.
You can’t plow fields with goats; you need oxen. And who doesn’t know that oxen cost more than goats!
Thought:
Six hundred sixty-seven
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One. Why do you think so much, tell me?
Does money come from thinking? Or will thinking more help you live longer someday?
Two. As long as the women of this country understand ‘character’ to mean only the exclusivity of reproductive organs, this country will never be free from corruption………..My husband has excellent character—those who make such claims, if you investigate, you’ll find that in their minds there’s nothing beyond their husband’s sexual fidelity and abstinence from alcohol. Let’s look at the world. A person of good character. Let’s try to think whether anyone except us understands this phrase to mean only sexual loyalty. To them, other aspects of character matter far more than who sleeps with whom. And us? By ‘characterless’ we mean someone who has slept with someone other than their paper spouse ‘without my permission.’ Even then…only if it becomes known! A nation as hypocritical, crude, and mob-minded as ours truly deserves nothing better than a quack’s breath.
Through my work, I’ve had the opportunity to visit a few countries. In South Korea, I observed that the very possibility of arriving late to the office simply doesn’t exist in the minds of government officials there. If someone arrives even two minutes late to the office one day, it means their character has begun to deteriorate. They simply cannot tolerate this—I won’t even speak of other matters!
I’ve heard from my uncle that as a child, when asked to sing, I would perform with animated gestures, singing “Megher kole rod hesheche” (The sun laughs in the lap of clouds)… But when my child is asked to sing by their uncle, they might perform with animated gestures singing “Meye, tui oporadhi re” (Girl, you are a criminal) or “It’s a hundred percent love love love”… even though both my wife and I are known to everyone as people of good character! What songs a child listens to, what songs they like—these play a significant role in determining their moral character. When my child grows up, they’ll likely turn out to be a “hundred percent love” type!
Character is an enormously broad concept. Everything from personality and mentality falls within it. A person who doesn’t take bribes in the office but takes their salary without properly doing their work—I see no reason to call them virtuous. Behavior, speech, thinking, mentality, moral courage, loyalty, transparency in words and actions, sense of responsibility—many such things fall under character. A hypocritical, impulsive, base person may be anything else, but certainly not virtuous. When people sleep together by mutual consent, the country’s GDP doesn’t decrease, but if someone doesn’t do their job responsibly and properly, the country’s GDP might well decrease.
I’ve seen some “virtuous” people who have no qualities except prudishness. In a country where getting a certificate of good character is so easy, how will corruption decrease? I feel like quoting a dialogue from the great actor Uttam Kumar:
Drinking alcohol might ruin a man’s liver, but his character? Never gets ruined.
(Friends, tell me, which movie is this dialogue from?)
Three or four types of people are generally not creative:
Those who are happy and make others happy,
Those who have no unfulfilled desires in life,
Those who are not attracted to sexuality,
Those you can read fluently like a Bengali book.
This doesn’t mean that—
By being unhappy yourself, making others unhappy,
By nurturing dissatisfaction in life,
By living driven by sexuality,
By presenting yourself as incomprehensible—
One can become creative.
The equation isn’t that simple, boss! Some genius people are naturally arrogant in temperament and behavior, but that doesn’t mean becoming arrogant will make you a genius! This world only tolerates the arrogance of geniuses. The rest it calls—ill-mannered!
Syed Mujtaba Ali drank alcohol. This doesn’t mean that drinking alcohol would make anyone a Mujtaba Ali. If that were possible, I’d gladly drink gallons and die trying. Mujtaba Ali was fluent in fifteen languages. I barely know my own language properly, though I can certainly down a few pegs! Then I dance with joy and say, “That bastard Mujtaba Ali drank too!”
Hemanta Mukherjee could sing better when he smoked cigarettes.
Meanwhile, ordinary folks smoke cigarettes and have better bowel movements in the morning.
If smoking cigarettes could make you sing like Hemanta, I’d light up a joint right this instant if needed! And fill my garden with marijuana plants!
By the way, if you want happiness in life, marry someone completely ordinary. Marrying a creative person makes happiness nearly impossible!
Four. Never let two types of people make nasty comments about you. Pull out their tongues if possible. If you can’t manage that, still consider them worth less than the shit that gets stuck in the toilet before you flush.
Those who weren’t there for you in times of trouble—you won’t find them in future crises either. How can you tell if they’ll be there or not? It’s obvious. Question your own heart, analyze their behavior and actions a bit, and you’ll get your answer. Some people exist whose job is to research whether your falling into trouble was justified or not, after you’ve already fallen into it. I’m putting them in this category too. Those who, instead of standing by you in your time of need, sit down to analyze the situation—whatever else they may be, they are certainly not your well-wishers.
Let those speak whom you’re obligated to listen to professionally. Your colleagues, your boss, your stakeholders, your clients. And others like them. Some people get kicks out of making nasty comments. Let them have their fun. The poor souls have such limited sources of entertainment! If possible, help them out by saying a few bad things about yourself. I remember something a senior colleague once told me. He said, “Listen buddy, if I quit this job now or if you quit now, why would you need to call me ‘sir’? Then you’d call me ‘brother’! Even if you addressed me casually by name, I couldn’t do anything about it. But until then, I would like to enjoy that privilege!”
By the way, I need to settle an urgent matter of public importance with you all. If we don’t address this, it won’t be long before the apocalypse begins on earth. I saw that Mithila took a picture with Shah Rukh Khan. I am deeply hurt. What am I lacking, brother? Why didn’t Mithila take a picture with me? From whom did Mithila seek permission to do such a terrible thing? Such an incident occurred, and I—of all people—didn’t even know!! How is this possible? I demand an answer, and it must be given! As the convener of the National Unity Council of Devoted Sons of Foinni, I hereby express severe condemnation and protest in the public interest against Mithila’s such illegal, immoral, autocratic, and unjust behavior! If necessary, I will give my heart’s fresh blood on Facebook, but I will not allow Mithila to take pictures with anyone other than me—I will not, I will not, I will not!!!
Alas, by birth we are so helpless that tolerating people’s foolishness becomes part of our duty!
Thought:
Six hundred and sixty-eight
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One. Brilliant and genius-type people are generally characterless. And those who fall outside these two categories are always walking embodiments of character.
Two. The person who has no one to weep for them after death—the Creator does not let them die easily.
Three. I live to write certain things.
I live to watch certain movies.
I live to listen to certain songs.
I live to read certain books.
I live to visit certain places.
When I think about why I am alive, all the reasons that come before my eyes are personal. That I am alive is essentially a matter of habit. It’s not that one cannot break free from such habit. But when I think of breaking free, those few things mentioned above come to mind. I have thought about this countless times. That’s how it seems to me. Perhaps none of it has any worth at all, but to me these are the provisions for staying alive, hence priceless!
Once I lived to make my family happy. After managing to do that, I find that living has become even more difficult than before! Those very people for whose happiness you live will cause you the most suffering. Therefore, I no longer believe that one can live for others. If I were to die, would it really matter much to anyone? What I had to give, I have already given! Now my remaining lifespan is unnecessary and surplus for everyone! Regarding what others gain or lose from someone’s death, no one has ever made a more truthful statement than Nazim Hikmet—in the twentieth century, the lifespan of human grief is at most one year.
When I die, my family and perhaps a few well-wishers will weep, will feel saddened. Then everything will return to normal again. This is the law of this world—here, everything returns to normal. Here, weeping is not a process that continues until death. Here, each person lives in their own way. Where is the time to think about how another lives, how another finds joy in living? People become photographs quite easily. This cannot be understood until the very moment before becoming a photograph. If it could be understood, people wouldn’t have to live with such suffering even within their own families. A close friend of mine, within seven minutes of hanging up the phone after treating his father badly, lost his father to a stroke. My friend goes to place flowers on his father’s grave. Why he goes, I cannot understand.
Living as I do, enduring everything with such difficulty, I say with complete honesty: if those personal desires weren’t there, it wouldn’t take me even two minutes to commit suicide. I am not indispensable to my family or my child. The thought that if I died I would no longer see my child’s smile saddens me greatly, but the very next moment I think that no matter how much I love my child, they too might someday become ungrateful, might cause my heart pain. Besides, with my death would come the death of all my feelings as well. Better than that would be to leave behind whatever savings I have for everyone and escape from here with a smile! I almost think of doing just that! But then, that pull again! Now I understand—it is certain attachments that keep us alive. If these attachments didn’t exist, we would see countless news of suicides in the newspapers every day.
People live by receiving sorrow and giving sorrow. It may be that whoever is giving the sorrow isn’t doing so intentionally. But the one receiving the sorrow is certainly receiving it! Silently swallowing suffering causes far more pain! The most selfless person in a family receives the most sorrow from that very family. Because they remain silent, no one ever realizes how much pain they experience in living! Books say that home is the most peaceful place in the world… what terrible nonsense that is!
I think of leaving everything behind and going somewhere far away, where no one knows me, where I could start life anew. This isn’t selfishness—this is wanting to live. In a house where everyone wants to win, living becomes very difficult. A home is certainly not just an essential place for satisfying hunger and desire. A home is such a place where there are people who know how to lose for one another, who know how to set ego aside and draw close. Where one must think a hundred times before speaking, must live in fear, must suffer guilt—that may be anything else, but it is certainly not a home.
Don’t wait until my death to understand me—try to understand me while I’m still alive. What good will it do to speak well of me after I’m gone? Just because you can’t hear my cries doesn’t mean I’m not in pain! It’s only because I haven’t died yet that you can’t see my death. The great tragedy of being alive is having to return to a house where no one understands you! When we come home, we think we’re returning to a home.
We mistake a house for a home. The beloved little child calls out “Papa, Papa” in broken words,
and nothing more—yet how many people return home just for the spell of hearing that,
who keeps count of this!
Whether from fear or the desire to live, because we cannot bring ourselves to die, the family takes advantage of our weakness. It’s easy to speak harshly to someone who cannot commit suicide,
and easy to break promises never to hurt them again! There are some deeply sensitive souls
who don’t know how to cry, who spend their entire lives knowing only how to suffer with a smile.
To live by causing someone pain is a kind of sin. If there is such a thing as nature’s justice,
then the punishment for that sin must come before death!
Reflection:
Six hundred sixty-nine
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One. It’s far better to spend three years under the same shadow of happiness with love untainted by habit than to spend thirty years under the same roof with habit devoid of love.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely lying down.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely eating to survive.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely returning home.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely buying things.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely seeing light.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely giving smiles.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely accepting.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely building a home.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely traveling around.
Happiness doesn’t mean merely making others happy.
In this melancholy city—
There is wealth,
but no heart.
There are stories,
but no life.
There are duties,
but no refuge.
There are songs,
but no melody.
There are friends,
but no companionship.
There is even love,
just no tenderness.
O God,
I don’t want longevity, I want to live.
Two. To those who say they can’t advance themselves much by keeping pace with the current generation, that this is an age of mediocrity, etc., etc., I say: stop making such excuses. Those who are cheap and shallow existed before, exist now, and will exist in the future. Their lives pass in idleness, wandering the streets, wasting time on trivial pursuits, in the company of cheap entertainment. Those who are ahead of their time, sharper than others, surely aren’t the type to keep pace with the rest. This simple thing must be understood. The generation isn’t worthless; many within the generation are worthless. From among these very people, geniuses emerge—it has happened before. The fault lies not with the generation, but with you or me. Greatness is something individual, never collective………so is stupidity.
Three. In every person’s life comes someone for whom they can never fall in love with anyone else again.
Four. The waiting will not end,
when wanting you is forbidden.
My sun-scorched home,
you alone are my beyond.
Five. The person no longer loves—no sorrow there.
But the person no longer believes—there lies the sorrow.
I love someone who doesn’t love me back—this can be accepted.
But I love someone who doesn’t even believe in me—this is very hard to accept.
Six. The pain of loving the wrong person is far less than the pain of being unable to love the right person due to circumstances.
Seven. I have a bad habit. Those I’m very fond of, I never approach; I watch them from afar. Going near them makes me feel strange somehow. This isn’t called shyness, isn’t shame, isn’t fear. What it’s called, I don’t know. I gaze at them from a distance with unwavering eyes. Eventually, tears come. The feeling of that exact moment is truly transcendent—it feels very good.
Eight. A loves,
B receives love.
B does wrong, A asks forgiveness.
Nine. We complain about as much as we understand. In our judgment, most of what truly deserves accusation lies beyond our comprehension as well. Funny thing is, those who understand that portion have no complaints about it. The most terrifying vocabulary written in foreign languages or in incomprehensible styles in one’s mother tongue remains safe. Many have survived through the ages this way, escaping cheap, foolish, poorly educated readers.
If English were introduced alongside Bengali at the official level in Bangladesh, job hazards would decrease significantly. I’ve noticed that those who are experts at creating trouble over court’s paragraph-wise comments or similar content have nothing much to say, because those are written in English, wrapped in law’s incomprehensible complexities. Whatever happens regarding them occurs within the court according to legal provisions, not outside.
The easiest way to protect oneself from fools is to remain incomprehensible and beyond their reach. Beware of those who lack a sense of proportion! Those who cannot grasp the distance between “friend” and “friendly”—allowing them too close can prove dangerous. From the day fools begin to consider you a friend, they’ll harbor the belief: surely one can slap a friend around a bit!
Ten. A person falls into true love only when the happiness of their beloved becomes more important than their own.
Eleven. The great tragedy of this world:
Those we can depend on, we cannot feel secure about.
Those we can feel secure about, we cannot depend on.
Depend and be secure—who could be happier than those who can live by this principle?
Twelve. As painful as it is to accept that one’s beloved is returning to her father’s house, equally joyful is the thought that one’s wife is visiting her father’s house.
Thirteen. The real war of this world is fought against loneliness!
Fourteen. Come, let us learn to swim… for we so often drown in our dreams!
Thought:
Six Hundred Seventy
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One. Why have you begun to believe that everyone has suddenly become respectful of dissenting views? Such naivety on your part could prove self-destructive.
People remain willing to accept differing opinions only as long as those opinions don’t come from someone they dislike. Here, the opinion-holder matters more than the opinion itself. However, if that dissenting view conflicts with their interests, they will no longer sit quietly.
There’s something even more interesting. If someone’s mind is somehow manipulated into believing that a particular dissenting view is utterly intolerable and must therefore be resisted, you’ll no longer see tolerance in them. Indeed, through various forms of pressure, they’re often compelled to become recklessly intolerant toward differing opinions. Such intolerant behavior is frequently collective. Sadly, in these cases, it’s not the opinion but the person who gets hurt. Fools, failing to refute the argument, attack the arguer instead—because that’s easier. Where the mind’s reach ends, the muscle’s begins.
When opposing a particular dissenting view becomes the current fashion, extreme hostility toward both the opinion and its holder has been observed. A person, driven by jealousy toward someone, can harbor any of their views as a detestable dissenting opinion. This makes it easier to portray that person as contemptible, and attacking them in every possible way becomes a matter of civic duty. It’s much easier to hate someone than to love them—indeed, it’s safer too, because everyone views love with suspicion while readily accepting hatred.
When cruelty
becomes the custom of the times,
compassionate people must inevitably stand in the dock! When a vast group takes a position against an idea and skillfully establishes it as false, everyone assumes that idea is wrong—for going with the current is both safe and popular.
Branding is a matter of utmost importance;
even torn shirts and pants earn people’s affection through the magic of branding. Though at the end of the day, torn remains torn,
still one must endure the tyranny of that tearedness all day long. In a kingdom of donkeys, the donkeys justify killing the lion.
I also observe this:
whatever the opinion may be, the power and position of the person holding it determines that opinion’s acceptability. Thus even unacceptable views are quietly accepted by people—out of fear or sheer necessity of survival.
Another class has recently emerged, which we might call the ‘Yes, brother’ class. They can effortlessly support any opinion, and when it comes to opposing views, this class inevitably remains—in agreement!
Thinking of them as one’s own is foolishness, for they belong to everyone. The person who belongs to everyone actually belongs only to himself,
and to no one else.
What was said is not the consideration; rather, how extensively that statement was brought before everyone—intact or distorted—is what matters. Here, the publicity of an event receives more attention than the event itself. Consequently, someone can commit murder and escape unpunished, while another may be ‘unanimously’ hanged merely on the suspicion of harboring murderous intentions. Where such legitimate brutality is the custom, and you and I are the patrons and supporters of that very custom,
expecting justice there is undoubtedly self-contradictory.
Experience also tells us that to avoid trouble,
to preserve personal relationships, to achieve specific objectives, by nurturing some unwavering belief or notion over a long period, being influenced by the external display of opinions and personalities, sometimes for no other reason—without going anywhere near logic or argument, simply because the heart desires it—people can accept or reject an opinion.
Those who glibly say ‘nothing is personal’ are the ones for whom
everything is personal,
most of all. Their target is not the statement, but the speaker. When the time comes, their masks slip away and their true faces emerge. Duplicity and hypocrisy have mingled into our very blood.
Believe it or not, you and I live in a society where people’s faces change before the blink of an eye, where devils roam around us disguised as unbelievably good beings,
where people fashion faces in the mold of masks.
Here—
Misleading fools is easy, because fools cannot analyze.
Misleading the non-fools is even easier, because non-fools don’t want to analyze.
As for the rest—
they don’t even need to be misled, because seeing the first two classes being misled, they become misled on their own responsibility.
………..And who doesn’t know that every misled person becomes blindly frenzied, unimaginably ungrateful, more savage than beasts!
In this cursed land, no one commits a greater sin than trusting in humanity.
Two. I used to think we should treat others the way we expect to be treated. Now I understand we should treat others the way they deserve to be treated. Why? Because not everyone deserves good treatment. There are many who simply cannot tolerate kindness—it gives them indigestion. You might say, what’s the use of overthinking? Isn’t giving better than taking? I believe the best thing is give-and-take. This way both parties remain content, and dignity is preserved.
Three. The man had long dreamed of writing at least one good poem. He tried. It didn’t work. The man would write poetry, read it himself, then tear it up. Some things cannot be achieved through effort—they must emerge from within. There was no lack of effort on his part, yet it didn’t happen. He became frustrated, then enraged. A poet’s rage makes him more of a poet; a non-poet’s rage turns him into a murderer. So he fulfilled his dream by killing the poet. When committing the murder, he first cut off the poet’s fingers, as if poetry flowed from the fingers themselves! At that moment God laughed and said, “You fool, I gave you those same five fingers!” Believe me, the man didn’t want to kill—he only wanted to be a poet. Because he couldn’t achieve poetry, he gained the right to murder. Ah, if killing a poet could make one a poet, then all the poets in the world would have died at murderers’ hands! Murderers remain murderers to the end; they never become poets. If a murderer could understand this much, even he might become a poet.
Even when the poet dies, poetry remains. Poets can never truly be murdered. The man couldn’t bear the sight of the poet before his eyes. Now he must endure the poet’s readers. History bears witness: when a poet dies, poetry gains more readers. The man wanted to live as a poet; alas, now he cannot even survive as a reader! Having lost poetry, the man realized he never actually hated the poet—he simply loved poetry. He killed out of love. Why must everyone live as a poet? Some people live by simply loving poetry!—he thinks, Oh, if only I had thought this way before!
Reflection: Six hundred seventy-one
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One. Today—
Retired murderers also demand justice for murder.
Retired torturers also demand justice for torture.
Retired thieves also demand justice for theft.
Retired bandits also demand justice for banditry.
Retired rapists also demand justice for rape.
Retired hypocrites also demand justice for hypocrisy.
Retired drunkards also demand justice for drunkenness.
Retired thugs also demand justice for thuggery.
Retired sleepers also demand justice for sleeping.
Retired bullies also demand justice for bullying.
Such justice remains a good thing only as long as it’s not happening to oneself.
Do they really want it?
Perhaps they do! And if their desire goes unfulfilled? All the better. New issues to make noise about. It’s the consciousness-cultivators who triumph after all! Alas, the unconscious possess more consciousness!
The revered Pratul Mukhopadhyay, were he to sing in today’s times, might perhaps sing:
“I sing in consciousness, I sing the song of consciousness,
In this consciousness I forever find my self, my very being.
In consciousness I dream,
In consciousness I weave melodies,
On this enchanted path of consciousness I have walked so far.
Consciousness is my life’s joy, consciousness the bliss of my soul,
I look once, I look again and again,
I gaze upon consciousness’s face.
I speak in consciousness, I speak of consciousness,
In consciousness I float, in consciousness I laugh,
In consciousness I remain awake.
In consciousness I revel in rapture,
In consciousness I lament and wail,
Having seen and heard all, maddened, I cry out in consciousness.
Consciousness is my bold slogan,
My furious bow and arrow,
I look once, I look again and again,
I gaze upon consciousness’s face.
In consciousness I love, I love consciousness itself,
Holding its hand, I come to all the people of this world.
Whatever greatness I have embraced with humble reverence,
The waters of thirteen rivers, seven seas merge in the Ganges and Padma.
Consciousness is the water for my thirst, the final satisfying sip,
I look once, I look again and again,
I gaze upon consciousness’s face.”
Today, tomorrow, the day after—
The boy devoted to wholesale salvation of doctors and their entire lineage must also one day say,
Sir, are you home? Mother is very ill, could you please come with me for a moment…
The boy devoted to wholesale salvation of policemen and their entire lineage must also one day say,
Sir, please spare me this time. Never again will I…
The boy devoted to wholesale salvation of lawyers and their entire lineage must also one day say,
Sir, I absolutely must win this case. Money is no object…
The boy devoted to wholesale salvation of capitalists and their entire lineage must also one day say,
Sir, please give me that American visa. It’s been a lifelong dream…
The boy devoted to wholesale salvation of the civil service and its entire lineage must also one day say,
Sir, I desperately need this job. Becoming a cadre officer is my life’s…
Base! Hypocrite! Incompetent!
Two-faced! Heartless!
“There are two aspects within us Bengalis. One is ‘We are Muslims,’ and the other is ‘We are Bengalis.’ Envy of others’ prosperity and betrayal run in our blood. Perhaps in no other language of the world will you find this word: ‘parashrikatarata’—one who becomes distressed seeing another’s prosperity. Jealousy and hatred exist in all languages, among all peoples to some degree, but among Bengalis there is this peculiar envy of others’ good fortune. A brother does not rejoice in his brother’s advancement. This is why the Bengali nation, despite possessing all manner of virtues, has had to endure oppression by others throughout its life.”
— Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, The Unfinished Memoirs
One of my most cherished passages. I have found no better analysis of Bengalis anywhere else.
Two. I too had genuinely come to believe that ragging doesn’t happen in any university in Bangladesh. Does ragging actually occur? What do you think? Why do you think so? What did you used to think? Why did you think that? What will you think? Why will you think so?
Whatever the case, come, let us learn to call wrong wrong and right right. When someone we dislike does wrong, it’s wrong; when they do right, it’s still wrong in our eyes. When someone we like does right, it’s right; when they do wrong, it’s still right—let us emerge from this culture. Ten people together calling a wrong thing right doesn’t make it right. Similarly, ten people together calling a right thing wrong doesn’t make it wrong. This requires the mental maturity to understand. If we cannot grasp this much, what kind of people are we? Be humane, be compassionate. You’ll see that life feels better than before. We weren’t sent to this earth as humans to waste our lives being cruel.
Another thing. Don’t dance to celebrities’ words. Practice using your own brain. Sad but true, many of them are scheming, base, hypocritical by nature. Some are paid bloggers. Why do you expect them to speak the truth or say what they themselves don’t believe? You won’t understand them by seeing them on Facebook; you’ll understand when you see them up close. I’ve seen the real faces of many, so they disgust me when I see them! There aren’t just two types, but thousands of types of two-faced people.
Learn to take both what people write on Facebook and what they don’t write simply—it will benefit you in many ways. The world doesn’t end in catastrophe just because someone writes something on their wall or yours. Believe me, the world is not such a fragile thing that it will collapse from a flimsy Facebook status! Come, let us learn to be tolerant. If we must attack, let us attack the words, not the speaker. Let us answer words with words, not with force. Experience teaches: the less brain one has, the more their hands move.
Stay careful,
stay safe. Keep in mind that your danger is yours and your family’s alone. It concerns no one else. Don’t be swayed by anyone’s incitement — if you fall into trouble, none of them will be able to help you even a bit, or even if they could, they wouldn’t. What you will do or won’t do, ask your own conscience. Most of those you see around you are people who would capitalize on your misfortune for their own gain. You won’t understand this until you’re actually in trouble. I’m sharing the first two lines of Suman’s beloved song ‘Jatismor’, with one word changed…………
No expectation of immortality, no claims or demands,
The meaning of this mortal life is simply the desire to live.
Thought:
Six hundred seventy-two
………………………………………………………
What do you do when you witness injustice?
What else!
I post statuses on Facebook, I read statuses.
And if that injustice is done to you?
Same thing………..I post statuses on Facebook, read statuses.
That’s it………..nothing more?
What are you trying to say?
Protesting against injustice is everyone’s responsibility. Those who see injustice and don’t even post a status — I spit on their faces!
Just protest?
And then……..?
What comes after isn’t my job. I believe in action, not inaction.
No, I mean just posting statuses on Facebook ends your responsibility?
Why would it? When needed, I create protest events, make everyone vocal. I organize human chains on Facebook, hold discussion forums on Facebook. I post more statuses, share statuses, comment. Brother, I’m not someone who sits quietly — I’m a person of action.
How did such a strange sense of responsibility develop in your head?
Meaning? What are you trying to say? Do you know how many people read when I post? Do you know how many people get inspired by my statuses and post their own? Do you have any idea how many followers I have on Facebook?
No, brother. What good are followers? Do you get paid?
Everyone sees my protest posts, likes them, comments, shares. Everyone is conscious,
awakened. No one’s just sitting idle on Facebook, brother! Is money everything in this world?
Doesn’t self-satisfaction have any value?
Wonderful, very good! So sir,
do you protest about all issues?
I do, but there’s a caveat here. I mean, it depends……..you know!
How so?
You see, if the person facing injustice isn’t on my preferred list, then it’s not really injustice at all. They’re getting what they deserve for their actions. There’s nothing to protest about then. I actually want them to fall into an even deeper pit. Now, suppose something happens that wouldn’t go down well with the public if I wrote about it—something that might even make me lose followers—then there’s no point writing about it, right?
What if it happens to you someday?
I’ll protest, and those who like me will protest too. I’ll post a status, and they’ll post statuses as well. No one will sit quietly. Nobody sits quietly these days.
Everything on Facebook?
So? Where else? Are you upset, brother?
Does writing a Facebook status actually accomplish anything? The real solution to problems lies outside Facebook. Who’s going to go there?
Of course it does! Keeping your mouth shut means supporting injustice. I despise those who don’t post Facebook statuses protesting injustice! And why should we go outside Facebook? How many people are there anyway? Everyone’s on Facebook! The truth is, outside Facebook, even the street dogs don’t count us! (Don’t take offense—I’ll delete this part after you read it.)
Hahaha… it’s okay. So you mean those who don’t post statuses against injustice are all either perpetrators of injustice or enablers of it?
Absolutely! When injustice occurs, no one should sit quietly—at least they should post a status, I believe. What’s happening to someone else today could happen to you tomorrow. If no one posts even a single status then, how would you feel? Think about it.
At least one… meaning?
Multiple would be even better. The more protests, the better. Let everyone see that nobody on Facebook is sitting idle. Facebook isn’t a place for sitting around.
How many statuses do you think it takes for a protest to reach completion? How many statuses does it take to actually help someone in trouble? How many statuses does it take to reduce a suffering person’s pain?
That depends on how long the issue stays in people’s minds. When a new issue comes up, we have to abandon the old one and jump on the new one. We have to keep everyone happy. And helping people in trouble—that’s not our job, brother! The Creator is there for that; though yes, we can pray for them on Facebook. The suffering person’s pain will reduce on its own—time is the best healer.
Oh, I see! So does this jumping around of yours actually benefit anyone, or has it ever?
What do you mean it doesn’t? Do you know how many people follow me? I have a responsibility toward them, toward this society, don’t I?
Brother, let me ask you a personal question. Have you ever been in serious trouble?
Yes, I have. Why?
What happened then?
Everyone posted status updates. Some even posted multiple ones. One person seeing another, then posting their own status. The posts were shared countless times, likes and comments poured in. Like that. I silently read everyone’s status updates. Many people prayed on Facebook.
Did the status updates
resolve the crisis?
Don’t ask such foolish questions. Do status updates resolve crises? But those who posted statuses, for me or against me, their follower count increased, their acceptance grew. No one sat idle—Facebook isn’t a place for the inactive.
So you mean,
what they did,
they did out of conscience and sense of responsibility,
but it didn’t really benefit you much.
Look, my crisis means only my crisis and my family’s crisis,
nothing to anyone else. One has to get out of it oneself. That’s only natural.
Did you find anyone by your side then?
Of course I did. Many people were by my side. Everyone posted statuses for me, prayed for me. When someone sees another’s trouble, only cowards stay silent instead of posting status updates.
No, I’m actually asking—not on Facebook, but in reality, didn’t you find anyone by your side?
Why wouldn’t I? A few people were there. But none of them posted Facebook statuses for me. They’re not really that active on Facebook.
I see… So among your millions of followers, you didn’t find anyone by your side in the literal sense?
You’re talking nonsense again!
I told you, everyone posted statuses, protested vehemently.
Alright,
alright! Let me ask another question. You just called those who stay silent when seeing others in trouble cowards—what if they get into trouble for speaking up?
What do you take me for? Am I a coward?
Do I fear anyone? Don’t I have conscience? Am I the kind of person who sits with hands and feet folded when I see injustice instead of posting a status? If someone gets into trouble for protesting, I’ll post a status for them too, ask everyone to post statuses. No person in distress is alone in this country—thousands of people stand by them on Facebook. It’s the online era, brother. Be smart!
I’m truly impressed by your heroism. Well, have you ever tried doing anything outside of Facebook?
Where’s the time for all that, brother? New issues keep coming up, I can’t stay silent, my conscience won’t let me stay silent. I have a responsibility as a member of society. I protest against injustice, everyone likes it, comments, shares, followers increase,
I feel good. Wait a minute… maybe you’re underestimating me. Do you have any idea about my power? Do you know how many followers I have? If I post one status, they’ll all jump in together for me! If I wanted, I could destroy your profile entirely!
Sorry, I didn’t understand your capabilities. Now I do. I was wrong, brother. I’ll make time to apologize and post about it on Facebook sometime.
Well, you’ve finally come around. Look, what happened during my crisis will happen during others’ crises too. This is the rule, this is the culture. We all have only one responsibility—posting statuses on Facebook. We must ignite the fire of consciousness in everyone, so that everyone posts statuses.
You’re absolutely right. We all need to post more and more statuses. We must bring our inner consciousness to Facebook. We must unite everyone’s consciousness and wait for the next issue. Let status updates triumph, let humanity triumph. Thank you.
Thank you too. If you’d like, I can share selected excerpts from our conversation as screenshots from my wall, tagging you. I’ve taken a liking to you—I want to gift you some of my followers.
Wow! That would be great. I’ll get some followers for free! What worth does life have without followers? You’ve opened my eyes today. We should all spread consciousness on Facebook.
Exactly, brother! How can people live without consciousness? By the way, you can write something tagging me if you want. I’ll comment there with some really valuable words. The public will eat it up. You’ll see how many likes my comment gets!
I would have written even if you hadn’t suggested it, brother. From today, I’ll live by consuming consciousness and selling consciousness. This is simple, this is fun! This is the best way to live well on Facebook among helpless, bandwagon-jumping, and hypocritical people.
But you’re going off-track again, dear brother! Stop speaking hard truths, speak popular truths, stay safe. Get in line, consume consciousness yourself, make everyone consume consciousness. New issues will keep coming all the time. People will forget the previous issues—people forget. Haven’t you heard the song, “The old will end and the new will be born, this is the way of the world”… Neither you nor I are outside the way of the world, right?
I agree, brother. Stay well.
You too, brother.