In (more than) a sense we resemble Faustus. Some sell their soul for passion, circumstances force others; some get away pawning their eyes to trade in dreams. Some offer their minds as collateral. Succumbing to the purchasing power of money, Surveying life’s Wall Street, we find self respect is the objet d’art most in demand today.
This poem ‘We Are All Doctor Faustus’ (Hum Sab Ek Tarah Say Doctor Faustus Hain) by Parveen Shakir is an interplay of fact and fiction. A faction free-verse, so to say. Beautiful but terrifically and tersely weaved. It cites the metaphor of Doctor Faustus, the protagonist who carries the name of the famous Elizabethan tragedy by playwright Christopher Marlowe. And, most importantly, integrates the actual Wall Street culture with made-up macrocosm of a character ala Doctor Faustus who trades off his soul to Lucifer in return for earthly powers and riches. Both dovetail to present a grim picture of contemporary world, where besides dreams and minds getting bartered, even self-respect too is commodified.
Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus is a character with a gross flaw. His hamartia is self-indulgence. His hubris is knowledge. He wants to control things through the paranormal, to transcend human limitations. His education and acumen fail him. Sinking deep into felony, he proves himself to be nothing but a tragic hero. He gradually realizes that he must give up his soul for it was too late to seek forgiveness for his evil. Eventually dragged off to the horrors of hell to meet his eternal damnation, he thus loses twenty-four years of his battle with wickedness.
Parveen Shakir relocates Doctor Faustus in the present-day world—the one where dreams are easily done for; passion is pounced; and mind marketed. Bluntly. Boldly. She extends the persona of Doctor Faustus to everyone. We all! We, who harbor devils within and sell out ourselves every moment, every day. We, who put up for sale our words for our own viciousness. We, who play with our ideals for something trifling and go awry to salvage our sanity. We, who are too timid to recognize our own failings and stop reproaching other people. We, who attach importance to temporal possessions and display vanity in our deeds. We, who act God and deliver verdicts on others.
And most fascinatingly, Parveen Shakir draws an analogy of we all with Wall Streeters—the ones who represent the culture of uncontrolled greed and unconstrained materialism. The culture that thrives on brutal antagonism and blatant charade; where people are found struggling with internal dilemmas and obscurities; and where outer pretenses overshadow the genuine individualism. The culture that stresses on accumulation of power, control and wealth to make everything unfamiliar and unfounded appear as familiar and factual.
The moot point is whether Doctor Faustus is different from Wall Streeter. Do both of them represent the latter-day man who is divided between the roots of his faith and the realization of his creepy chutzpah? Do both of them expose extensive moral and philosophical precincts that classify the making of intellectual history of any civilization?
Bottomline: Doctor Faustus is more of a mythical legend that narrates the predicament of his fiendish aspirations and the rage of his rule. Wall Streeter is a bona fide character, the full-blown version of his utter inability to locate his true essence and earn self-respect in the world. Money, Muscle, Malice and Monkeying—it all defines him. Rather defines We All. So obviously. So obnoxiously.