Skip to main content

A state without Imagination

Works of human imagination should be preserved and studied, and it's entirely up to the conscience of individuals to reject or to embrace them. 

Which fiery mullah or sage caked in mud or churchman with a melancholy mask would  comprehend and ever contemplate attempting such a daring enterprise, given their remote and one-sided understanding?

It's a shame that the culmination of a person's first-hand anxieties, emotional deliriums amid adventures in strange settings processed through an eventual intellectual endeavours is allowed to be confronted by fanatics brandishing machetes breathing installed wrath. And what is even more disturbing is that the fact that the state turns out to be a party to it.

Sentiment they say, but it's religious intoxication which is twisted only to be  presented as a humane one, like a beautifully painted grenade thrown at and everybody is scrambling thinking it's a ball; in another metaphorical expression: a malicious man with a hoe, which  can be brought down anytime, standing by a runnel to direct the current. 

Unprotected, must the man of imagination become a victim of mob and his laboured and concluded works be obliterated just like that?  Even in the Medieval there were tolerant states which stood by their intellects knowing that the only way towards a mature society means tolerance for diversity and thus maintaining freedom of speech and expressions.

If written secularism can't be translated to show how intellectually progressed we are as  a society and if the country is to be thrown at the fanatics, then we should burn it and shall declare that we are no more one.

Have we been admiring Saudi Arabia and expecting a Bin Laden to come and run the country? 

Comments

  1. Unknown22 January 2012 at 11:08

    We are a hypocrite democracy working on the principle of "appeasement for the fake sake". Maharashtra police says they had no such intelligence on Rushdie. Why are they telling this now?

    Moreover, the combined tolerance level of Indian society as a whole is headed to its nadir. Taslima has been ousted, Hussain died in a foreign land and same will happen withRushdie.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

An Outlier In The Wrong World

Delhi was once Chinglen’s ‘cradle of love’. With his student years over and the love that once comforted his stay has come to a tragic end, he is seized by a strong urge to flee the city. Run as far as he can from the memories of love. As a costly escape is beyond means, he returns to Manipur, a place long marred by protracted violence, a failed revolution, an engineered incessant political chaos, and already neck-deep in corruption. Perhaps to lick his wounds and hide with the beguiled sense. That the distance and the rich bizarre should shield him from the very memories sloshing thick inside him. His attempt to keep himself engaged as well as to make a meagre living lands him a shoddy journalist job and the opportunity to pursue a PhD at the state's only university. In the absence of his laidback editor and opportunistic professor, he teaches himself some degree of creative writing and dabbles in academia. As he moves further into the labyrinth, he learns the hard way that trying...
Post a Comment
Read more

Dream of Beliefs

Seeking quiet corners In the silence of the city By day, by night, Even in the stillness of late hours I carried you. To pursue, to court, And finally, to know If it was mine Or ever would be. I remember Tossing, turning, Muttering to myself, Searching for signs While gathering words. Then, one rainy day, I believed I had it. The dream was mine. Twenty years have passed With the dream, In another city, Where silence and inner peace Slip through my grasp. Penury and ill-fortune Trail me like shadows, Reminding me How fragile, how futile The pursuit can be. Often, I wonder: Have I failed? Is my back now pressed Against the walls Of this city, Of life itself? It is dreadful. It is disheartening. Yet I have nothing But this dream: A flickering flame, A roaring inferno, A monster trapped within. I am no one No titles, no claims, Only belief to shield me, And a longing For a place in the world. After all these years, Oh, dream of mine To possess you Is to know who I am, What I can be. And st...
Post a Comment
Read more

Revised Edition of Tales of Human Mischief

Tales of Human Mischief   by Nameirakpam Bobo Meitei is a poignant collection of short stories set against the backdrop of Manipur, also known as Kangleipak.   The anthology delves into the lives of ordinary individuals whose experiences are shaped by the region's prolonged civil unrest and armed conflicts.   Through rich prose, Meitei brings to light the often-overlooked narratives of those affected by systemic violence and societal upheaval. ​ The stories encapsulate a range of human emotions and experiences: a mother's lament for her lost child, the silent suffering of a young soul molded by surrounding violence, the humiliation endured by dishonored victims, and the pervasive fear of those yearning for salvation.   These narratives reflect the extremities of terror and human brutality, painting a vivid picture of a society grappling with moral decay and existential despair. ​ Meitei's writing is characterized by its melancholic tone and introspective depth. ...
Post a Comment
Read more