Mind Plague

Intellect is not manufactured in any indus­trial plant. Neither ever put on a discount sale.
"Against this backdrop, can our writers afford complacency and bargain their intellectual jugglery for personal profit? Are we in a situation that can stand writings full of rabble-rousing and polemics so that our gen next is pushed into the black hole of annihilation?" [Representational Image]
"Against this backdrop, can our writers afford complacency and bargain their intellectual jugglery for personal profit? Are we in a situation that can stand writings full of rabble-rousing and polemics so that our gen next is pushed into the black hole of annihilation?" [Representational Image]Graphic: freesvg.org [Creative Commons]

Breathing in a frightful milieu of confusions and contradictions, every writer needs a certain kind of intellectual space to come to terms with seminal is­sues. For, he has to face the ordeal of au­thenticity within the fastness of his own heart, before he can establish his creden­tials.

However, where ambiguities are likely to remain unresolved, a certain de­gree of- ambivalence is inevitable. Nearly all writers identify this to be the condition of the laboring muses when they run up against the rock-face of reality.

This doesn’t, nonetheless, mean to turn a blind eye to what is going around. It rather un­derpins the writer’s resolve— Create a sense of exigency, and stimulate all thinking individuals to acknowledge the gravity of the situation(s), even as solutions or remedies are often beyond the control of writers, if not their ken.

Still, it’s the business of the tormented muses to work out strategies of salvation. It would mean the discovery of a state of mind where living in the midst of storms, one may, with effort and insight, arrive at a mode of acceptance and understanding.

History, heritage, ancestry, religion—all combine to condition the angle of response in a writer’s imagination, especially if he has a routine brush with any violent turbulence. He car­ries in his work the genes of his place, and the memes of his intellectual life. These cultural strains are a fact of his world-view.

Therefore, our writer cannot be placid. He cannot even be stormy. He is jammed in a paradox. If he tries to be candid, he is sure to be discouraged. Not blows but the language of hate and humiliation bully him. Cobwebs of suspicion ensnare his writings.

Absurd vivisection rakes up. He is subtly intimi­dated, and it means much more than stop­ping only him. It slaughters many bud­ding writers before a full blossom. The message is blunt: to stall freethinking and promote self-fashioned notions.

In such a scenario, do we still expect highbrows emerg­ing around like mice from sneaky holes? Intellect is not manufactured in any indus­trial plant. Neither ever put on a discount sale. It is harnessed in institutions of sig­nificance. Again, we cut a sorry fig­ure. Our all such institutions have turned into dens of mind degeneration and docility.

Expecting visionaries to grow seems unlikely at a place where corruption is glorified and accorded recognition. Where mediocrity and not merit clinches the day. Where hedonistic hang-ups rule the roost. Where success connotes plenty of moolah.

Where luxury symbolizes honor. Where holy men are hyped hypocrites; leaders dubious linchpins; politicians moral paupers; teach­ers cultured cheaters; doctors qualified butchers; engineers expert robbers; clerks precarious parasites; shopkeepers crafty looters; and everybody else, with certain exceptions, a masquerading character.

The distinctive place where life peeps through the tyrannical abyss and woofs insane. And, all other elements conspire to create Catch - 22 situations so that one is left arguing in a circle!

Perhaps, we are witnessing a formidable mutation. It is more radical. Earlier, we were able to know and knew we know. Our elders belonged to this creed. Today, we know that we do not know and still feign knowing. It is a collec­tion of our third generation.

They think thinking is not enough, and that even thinking about thinking-deficit is not enough either. They feel there is an invincible wall of self ahead of them. Disenchanted with their surroundings, they are baffled with the existing inconsistencies. Rheto­ric charms them no more. Sermons bore them stiff whole hog. Ideological vacuum wilts them insidiously.

Against this backdrop, can our writers afford complacency and bargain their intellectual jugglery for personal profit? Are we in a situation that can stand writings full of rabble-rousing and polemics so that our gen next is pushed into the black hole of annihilation? We need to answer certain questions. Before it’s too late and the mind gets plagued beyond retrieval!

DISCLAIMER: The views and opinions expressed in this article are the personal opinions of the author.

The facts, analysis, assumptions and perspective appearing in the article do not reflect the views of GK.

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