Thursday, December 10, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Deep space
In brooding darkness
Storm clouds gather
Nectar falls
Spirit rises to meet itself
In throbbing bouts of ecstasy
Storm clouds gather
Nectar falls
Spirit rises to meet itself
In throbbing bouts of ecstasy
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Unhappy Independence Day
On the occasion of remembering India's liberation from British bureaucrats and its usurpation by Indian bureaucrats, I must confess to a pang of sadness. I can best explain its origin by means of the following graph (obtained from the World Bank Report on water in India)
Magnify it and look at it by all means. Its an important chart. Now let us look at another fact, this one drawn from the UN's Climate Report published in 2007. By 2030, i.e., a bare 21 years from now, the Gangotri and other glaciers feeding the Ganga (I refuse to call it Ganges) river will have disappeared, making it highly likely that the Ganga will become a seasonal river and, by the time I seek to be cremated by its side in Varanasi in 70 years' time, will have vanished completely. The India that I will breathe my last in will be an India where the Ganga will have joined the Saraswati and Yamuna as a mythical river.
Setting cultural nostalgia aside, countries throughout the world are beginning to suffer from what is euphemistically called "Limits to growth". For the US, the major bottleneck is one of securing petroleum reserves. Why do you think global warming has become such a big talking point? Because people have suddenly realized how fragile the eco-systems are and have developed a sense of reverence towards Nature? Poppycock! Its because the global warming issue can be used as a narrative to explain and begin the inevitable shift away from fossil fuel based economies to other sources of energy.
For India, the bottleneck is far more severe - in both the logistical and temporal sense. Logistical because water is far more fundamental for survival than oil. People might grumble if they can't drive, they might shout if they have to pay a little bit more for food because transportation costs have gone up. But think of the panic that erupts whenever there is a drought. Now extend that into the infinite future and you will have some sense of the logistical nightmare that is about to erupt. When is it going to erupt? That's where the temporal problem shows up. By most estimates, water demand in India is going to exceed all possible sources of supply by 2020 (maybe 2025).
At this point, gentle reader, you are likely to think, "Demand exceeding supply you say? How fascinating! Note to self: remember this for dinner table conversation." To gain a deeper appreciation of this fact, why not perform the following experiment: perform as many push-ups as you can. When you reach your limit, perform five more. Come back and revisit the phenomenon of demand exceeding supply when you're done. You will then understand the concept better.
In 11 years' time, the Indian economy will start hitting its limits to growth. Any further expansion in industrial water usage would come at the cost of domestic water supply, political anathema. At this point, there will arise crises along multiple dimensions, not least geopolitically, since the Himalayan mountains that supply India with 70% of its fresh water also feed its illustrious and cantankerous neighbors. In the face of rising public discontent, how hard is it going to be for some demagogue to promise abrogating water treaties as a route to political exaltation?
11 years, gentle reader. The India of 2020 is not going to be a land of peace and prosperity, well on its way to becoming a mini-USA. It is going to be a land of turmoil and factionalism, with industrialists trying to cut deals with government to keep their water supply quotas intact, states screaming at the top of their lungs and threatening to secede from the Union unless their neighbors stopped filching what is rightly theirs, and last but not least, a population finally waking up to the fact that the patina of capitalistic prosperity that it has so eagerly accepted is not likely to last very long after all.
What's that you say? China already has a water deficit and is doing fine? No, dear reader, China is not doing fine. The reason China appears to be doing fine is because it runs a current account surplus that will allow it to be a net grain importer. It has already begun running a grain deficit, and that is when it is overpumping its groundwater aquifers and diverting enough water away from its rivers to leave them almost dry. Believe me, the water crisis is going to hit them pretty hard just as well.
There can be no anarcho-primitivist fleeing to the hills here. Back to the basics survivalism won't help when one of the basics is in short supply. Feeble efforts at water conservation and retrenchment of river systems will buy a brief period of grace, but against the geo-physical events that are presently in motion, I fear that all the ingenuity and effort of humanity would fail. And we aren't even making that effort!
And why stop at 11 years? 2050 is not that far away. Most of my readership will have children their current age by that time. Think of the devastation that is likely to result when available water supplies shrink to 20% of their current volume. There is only one word that comes to mind to fit the picture - catastrophe.
Is there anything that can be done to avoid this? Surely there must be something that we could do to solve our problems - the inveterate humanist bleat. At such times I am reminded of the Club of Rome's shockingly honest appraisal of the heart of mankind's problems - too much mankind. What is the problem? There's too many of us struggling to survive with a finite amount of resources at hand.
You must, of course, argue with me here. Fine, chuck the bathing and the laundry (ah! I would be seen as a prophet if this were ever to come to pass). That still doesn't help. 90% of India's water consumption is agricultural. Stop growing food? A sensible partial solution, of course, would be to try and grow less water-intensive crops. But the only way to get farmers to buy into that paradigm is to stop subsidizing their electricity bills for pumping out ground water, doing which is electoral suicide.
You wish to educate the farmers and the voters and the general public about this grave matter so that they may take steps to redeem the situation? Within 11 years? I commend your idealism. Why not take on an even nobler task then? Get people to stop having kids. Reduce the population of India by 50% and observe the peace and prosperity that would descend. Rivers of milk and honey would flow, man would treat his fellow man justly, a veritable Golden Age would descend! You would go down in myths and legends as the redeemer of our civilization!
Unfortunately, there is only this one way to solve this problem - stop population growth. How likely is that? Let alone reducing population, think about the likelihood of even stabilizing the Indian population at its current levels. Impossible! Human nature will do what human nature must do (I would explain this further here, but it would take away from the import of the present writing. Some other time.). It is in the nature of man to perpetrate the tragedy of the commons. That's just the way it is. In my opinion, there is not much to be gained by flailing our hands and invoking romantic notions of victory over the laws of physics and human nature. All we can do is use foresight and planning to sidestep problems once we can see them heading our way. Once our own existence is no longer threatened by a problem, we can try and find palliatives for others.
In practical terms, what can one do to include this rather bleak outlook in one's long term plans? Offhand, I can think of the following general suggestions:
1. If, like me, you're not in India, set the wheels in motion to never have to go back and make arrangements for family members to emigrate just as well.
2. If you are in India, set the wheels in motion either to emigrate, or to settle in the South of India, somewhere near the coasts and one of the rivers Mahanadi, Godavari or Cauvery. Those will not run out that quickly.
3. If your family owns real estate in the Northern Plains, think medium term (3-6 years from now) about selling. Property prices aren't exactly going to go up if the river basins start to dry up.
4. Buy and hold investors among you might want to shorten your horizons and those holding government bonds might want to sell. I haven't explored any investment opportunities that might benefit from water scarcity yet, but I will at some point.
5. Be prepared for major societal upheavals. When I say major, think on the order of the violence during Partition, less rabid, but occurring on a much longer time-scale.
What's that? I am advocating escapism? I am proposing that when the ship is on fire, one depart in haste and not stick around on the burning deck for some sentimental reason or the other? Yes, precisely so.
Feel free to laugh at me and mock my fanciful predictions. If I am wrong and there is no crisis in the offing, I would be very happy to see that the country of my origin is doing well and is stable and prosperous. That joy would likely offset all the derision that I would face in such an eventuality.
Let me state very clearly though, that none of what has been said here has been said thoughtlessly or in jest. I could, as disclaimed above, be a moron who is utterly wrong. I could be an alarmist who is fretting about a problem that will resolve itself when the time comes. That being said, I have written this because I think I am right and that water woes are going to become perhaps the most important aspect of India's existential trajectory within the next two decades.
Researchers who study the limits of growth paint a gloomy picture for humanity in the second half of this century, a time that seems to most people to belong very far in the future, hence not a suitable subject for analysis. Unfortunately, gentle reader, the future is almost here, and the road to this unpleasant future from the simulacrum of cornucopia prevailing today is bound to be a bumpy one. It just so happens that, for geophysical reasons, one of the countries that will suffer most from hitting up against the limits of growth is going to be India, which is why I am forced to observe the 62nd birth anniversary of its rebirth as a republic in such a solemn manner.
UPDATE (21 Jan 2009) It turns out that some of my dire prognostications are based on incorrect data. In particular, the prediction from the UN's IPCC report concerning the fate of the Himalayan glaciers has now been shown to have been false. While I have tried to stay abreast of the climate change propaganda that has been spewed out in the recent past, I had hoped that the main scientific findings, at least, would be free of error. Apparently not.
If the glaciers are in no imminent danger, then the water crisis cannot be terribly pressing. Of course, groundwater depletion remains a concern, but not as terrible an existential concern. I may update this post further when I have had time to think over the implications of the new scenario.
I am happy, though, at the thought that the glaciers still have another few centuries to go.
Magnify it and look at it by all means. Its an important chart. Now let us look at another fact, this one drawn from the UN's Climate Report published in 2007. By 2030, i.e., a bare 21 years from now, the Gangotri and other glaciers feeding the Ganga (I refuse to call it Ganges) river will have disappeared, making it highly likely that the Ganga will become a seasonal river and, by the time I seek to be cremated by its side in Varanasi in 70 years' time, will have vanished completely. The India that I will breathe my last in will be an India where the Ganga will have joined the Saraswati and Yamuna as a mythical river.
Setting cultural nostalgia aside, countries throughout the world are beginning to suffer from what is euphemistically called "Limits to growth". For the US, the major bottleneck is one of securing petroleum reserves. Why do you think global warming has become such a big talking point? Because people have suddenly realized how fragile the eco-systems are and have developed a sense of reverence towards Nature? Poppycock! Its because the global warming issue can be used as a narrative to explain and begin the inevitable shift away from fossil fuel based economies to other sources of energy.
For India, the bottleneck is far more severe - in both the logistical and temporal sense. Logistical because water is far more fundamental for survival than oil. People might grumble if they can't drive, they might shout if they have to pay a little bit more for food because transportation costs have gone up. But think of the panic that erupts whenever there is a drought. Now extend that into the infinite future and you will have some sense of the logistical nightmare that is about to erupt. When is it going to erupt? That's where the temporal problem shows up. By most estimates, water demand in India is going to exceed all possible sources of supply by 2020 (maybe 2025).
At this point, gentle reader, you are likely to think, "Demand exceeding supply you say? How fascinating! Note to self: remember this for dinner table conversation." To gain a deeper appreciation of this fact, why not perform the following experiment: perform as many push-ups as you can. When you reach your limit, perform five more. Come back and revisit the phenomenon of demand exceeding supply when you're done. You will then understand the concept better.
In 11 years' time, the Indian economy will start hitting its limits to growth. Any further expansion in industrial water usage would come at the cost of domestic water supply, political anathema. At this point, there will arise crises along multiple dimensions, not least geopolitically, since the Himalayan mountains that supply India with 70% of its fresh water also feed its illustrious and cantankerous neighbors. In the face of rising public discontent, how hard is it going to be for some demagogue to promise abrogating water treaties as a route to political exaltation?
11 years, gentle reader. The India of 2020 is not going to be a land of peace and prosperity, well on its way to becoming a mini-USA. It is going to be a land of turmoil and factionalism, with industrialists trying to cut deals with government to keep their water supply quotas intact, states screaming at the top of their lungs and threatening to secede from the Union unless their neighbors stopped filching what is rightly theirs, and last but not least, a population finally waking up to the fact that the patina of capitalistic prosperity that it has so eagerly accepted is not likely to last very long after all.
What's that you say? China already has a water deficit and is doing fine? No, dear reader, China is not doing fine. The reason China appears to be doing fine is because it runs a current account surplus that will allow it to be a net grain importer. It has already begun running a grain deficit, and that is when it is overpumping its groundwater aquifers and diverting enough water away from its rivers to leave them almost dry. Believe me, the water crisis is going to hit them pretty hard just as well.
There can be no anarcho-primitivist fleeing to the hills here. Back to the basics survivalism won't help when one of the basics is in short supply. Feeble efforts at water conservation and retrenchment of river systems will buy a brief period of grace, but against the geo-physical events that are presently in motion, I fear that all the ingenuity and effort of humanity would fail. And we aren't even making that effort!
And why stop at 11 years? 2050 is not that far away. Most of my readership will have children their current age by that time. Think of the devastation that is likely to result when available water supplies shrink to 20% of their current volume. There is only one word that comes to mind to fit the picture - catastrophe.
Is there anything that can be done to avoid this? Surely there must be something that we could do to solve our problems - the inveterate humanist bleat. At such times I am reminded of the Club of Rome's shockingly honest appraisal of the heart of mankind's problems - too much mankind. What is the problem? There's too many of us struggling to survive with a finite amount of resources at hand.
You must, of course, argue with me here. Fine, chuck the bathing and the laundry (ah! I would be seen as a prophet if this were ever to come to pass). That still doesn't help. 90% of India's water consumption is agricultural. Stop growing food? A sensible partial solution, of course, would be to try and grow less water-intensive crops. But the only way to get farmers to buy into that paradigm is to stop subsidizing their electricity bills for pumping out ground water, doing which is electoral suicide.
You wish to educate the farmers and the voters and the general public about this grave matter so that they may take steps to redeem the situation? Within 11 years? I commend your idealism. Why not take on an even nobler task then? Get people to stop having kids. Reduce the population of India by 50% and observe the peace and prosperity that would descend. Rivers of milk and honey would flow, man would treat his fellow man justly, a veritable Golden Age would descend! You would go down in myths and legends as the redeemer of our civilization!
Unfortunately, there is only this one way to solve this problem - stop population growth. How likely is that? Let alone reducing population, think about the likelihood of even stabilizing the Indian population at its current levels. Impossible! Human nature will do what human nature must do (I would explain this further here, but it would take away from the import of the present writing. Some other time.). It is in the nature of man to perpetrate the tragedy of the commons. That's just the way it is. In my opinion, there is not much to be gained by flailing our hands and invoking romantic notions of victory over the laws of physics and human nature. All we can do is use foresight and planning to sidestep problems once we can see them heading our way. Once our own existence is no longer threatened by a problem, we can try and find palliatives for others.
In practical terms, what can one do to include this rather bleak outlook in one's long term plans? Offhand, I can think of the following general suggestions:
1. If, like me, you're not in India, set the wheels in motion to never have to go back and make arrangements for family members to emigrate just as well.
2. If you are in India, set the wheels in motion either to emigrate, or to settle in the South of India, somewhere near the coasts and one of the rivers Mahanadi, Godavari or Cauvery. Those will not run out that quickly.
3. If your family owns real estate in the Northern Plains, think medium term (3-6 years from now) about selling. Property prices aren't exactly going to go up if the river basins start to dry up.
4. Buy and hold investors among you might want to shorten your horizons and those holding government bonds might want to sell. I haven't explored any investment opportunities that might benefit from water scarcity yet, but I will at some point.
5. Be prepared for major societal upheavals. When I say major, think on the order of the violence during Partition, less rabid, but occurring on a much longer time-scale.
What's that? I am advocating escapism? I am proposing that when the ship is on fire, one depart in haste and not stick around on the burning deck for some sentimental reason or the other? Yes, precisely so.
Feel free to laugh at me and mock my fanciful predictions. If I am wrong and there is no crisis in the offing, I would be very happy to see that the country of my origin is doing well and is stable and prosperous. That joy would likely offset all the derision that I would face in such an eventuality.
Let me state very clearly though, that none of what has been said here has been said thoughtlessly or in jest. I could, as disclaimed above, be a moron who is utterly wrong. I could be an alarmist who is fretting about a problem that will resolve itself when the time comes. That being said, I have written this because I think I am right and that water woes are going to become perhaps the most important aspect of India's existential trajectory within the next two decades.
Researchers who study the limits of growth paint a gloomy picture for humanity in the second half of this century, a time that seems to most people to belong very far in the future, hence not a suitable subject for analysis. Unfortunately, gentle reader, the future is almost here, and the road to this unpleasant future from the simulacrum of cornucopia prevailing today is bound to be a bumpy one. It just so happens that, for geophysical reasons, one of the countries that will suffer most from hitting up against the limits of growth is going to be India, which is why I am forced to observe the 62nd birth anniversary of its rebirth as a republic in such a solemn manner.
UPDATE (21 Jan 2009) It turns out that some of my dire prognostications are based on incorrect data. In particular, the prediction from the UN's IPCC report concerning the fate of the Himalayan glaciers has now been shown to have been false. While I have tried to stay abreast of the climate change propaganda that has been spewed out in the recent past, I had hoped that the main scientific findings, at least, would be free of error. Apparently not.
If the glaciers are in no imminent danger, then the water crisis cannot be terribly pressing. Of course, groundwater depletion remains a concern, but not as terrible an existential concern. I may update this post further when I have had time to think over the implications of the new scenario.
I am happy, though, at the thought that the glaciers still have another few centuries to go.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
A song on the six perfections
I have of late acquired a great appreciation for brevity. Undoubtedly, writing cannot be useful just because it does not take up much space, it must also have some utility. For a combination of brevity and utility, I have not yet come across anything remotely close to what the great poet Milarepa has written,
For generosity, nothing to do,
Other than stop fixating on self.
For morality, nothing to do,
Other than stop being dishonest.
For patience, nothing to do,
Other than not fear what is ultimately true.
For effort, nothing to do,
Other than practice continuously.
For meditative stability, nothing to do,
Other than rest in presence.
For wisdom, nothing to do,
Other than know directly how things are.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Andheri Madhushala - II
अँधेरी मधुशाला - २
मधुशाला जो जो जाते हैं, सब प्यासे वापस आते हैं
मदिरालय के प्रांगण में टूटे प्याले बिखरे जाते हैं
मदिरालय से मदिरालय फिरने में हम हाला पाते हैं
प्यासे प्याले चूमे इतने, मदिरा ख़ुद बनते जाते हैं
मधुशाला जो जो जाते हैं, सब प्यासे वापस आते हैं
मदिरालय के प्रांगण में टूटे प्याले बिखरे जाते हैं
मदिरालय से मदिरालय फिरने में हम हाला पाते हैं
प्यासे प्याले चूमे इतने, मदिरा ख़ुद बनते जाते हैं
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Meditation
Ignorance to Knowledge
I live in a world of magic and miracles
Where acausal deities rule mercifully
Through some anthropomorphic creed
Slowly, I am killing those gods
One by one I sacrifice them
At the altar of Reason
I now perceive with no bias
I now hold all false lest proven true
No error have I, for I doubt all
Knowledge conflicted
I cannot explain the comprehensibility
Of the universe to my own perception
Reason stands silent, Nature speaks
My spirit is tortured with insanity
Whence existence? Whence knowledge?
Reason founders in a storm of semantics
All questions point to one, `Who observes?'
Half-answers leap out of age-old tomes
Mysterious whispers from forgotten times
Knowledge to Ignorance
I am now a hermit, body smeared in ashes
Mind withdrawing from the sensate world
I labor incessantly with a single thought
Body must be strong and stable, like a rock
Mind must be supple and becalmed, like water
Memory must be purged, ambition lost
I now sit in meditation hours-long
There is no body, no mind, no thought
A dark nothingness embraces my identity
Ignorance to Knowing
The darkness parts with a jolt and I face
A deep throbbing power with no name
Its vibrations fill me with delirious joy
Meditation becomes exhilarating now
Sights, sounds, vibrations beyond sense and thought
I play in a universe beyond time and space
And ever draw nearer to the throbbing thing
Until no play remains, no pleasure, no pain
There is naught, save the throbbing and I
Knowing to Being
Days pass as if in a dream,
The throbbing finally speaks its name
It is Consciousness, the seed of the Universe
Meditation is perpetual now
The throbbing mass of awareness draws me
Deeper into an unfathomable abyss
Lo! There is no more I, no more Consciousness
There is only One, throbbing vibrantly
Sustaining in its pulsation the fabric of Reality
Beyond Being
Words cannot describe it, for memory goes there not
Mind cannot perceive it, for intellect qualifies it not
It broods, the throbbing at the center of all existence
Where acausal deities rule mercifully
Through some anthropomorphic creed
Slowly, I am killing those gods
One by one I sacrifice them
At the altar of Reason
I now perceive with no bias
I now hold all false lest proven true
No error have I, for I doubt all
Knowledge conflicted
I cannot explain the comprehensibility
Of the universe to my own perception
Reason stands silent, Nature speaks
My spirit is tortured with insanity
Whence existence? Whence knowledge?
Reason founders in a storm of semantics
All questions point to one, `Who observes?'
Half-answers leap out of age-old tomes
Mysterious whispers from forgotten times
Knowledge to Ignorance
I am now a hermit, body smeared in ashes
Mind withdrawing from the sensate world
I labor incessantly with a single thought
Body must be strong and stable, like a rock
Mind must be supple and becalmed, like water
Memory must be purged, ambition lost
I now sit in meditation hours-long
There is no body, no mind, no thought
A dark nothingness embraces my identity
Ignorance to Knowing
The darkness parts with a jolt and I face
A deep throbbing power with no name
Its vibrations fill me with delirious joy
Meditation becomes exhilarating now
Sights, sounds, vibrations beyond sense and thought
I play in a universe beyond time and space
And ever draw nearer to the throbbing thing
Until no play remains, no pleasure, no pain
There is naught, save the throbbing and I
Knowing to Being
Days pass as if in a dream,
The throbbing finally speaks its name
It is Consciousness, the seed of the Universe
Meditation is perpetual now
The throbbing mass of awareness draws me
Deeper into an unfathomable abyss
Lo! There is no more I, no more Consciousness
There is only One, throbbing vibrantly
Sustaining in its pulsation the fabric of Reality
Beyond Being
Words cannot describe it, for memory goes there not
Mind cannot perceive it, for intellect qualifies it not
It broods, the throbbing at the center of all existence
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Current affairs
I have been meaning to write about the economy for a while now, but this expresses everything I wanted to say much more succinctly than I ever could. Thank you, Bill.
Friday, February 13, 2009
From Seeing to Being
The well of meditation has been deepening continuously in the past few weeks. Every waking minute spent outside meditation appears harsh and unnatural at times. Eyes no longer hold clear vision to be their natural state, ears no longer sense sound, breath flutters gently like a song-bird in a vast hallway. Throbbing in all places along the spine continues intermittently. Vibration and pulsation at crown of head remains almost constant.
Awareness is ensconced in a ball that is light on the inside and dark on the outside. The dark exterior of this ball pushes away fragments of internal narrative arising out of identity as well as extraneous thoughts arising out of perception; keeps them away from mindfulness of awareness.
The walls of ego are crashing into ruin, the halls of perceptive coherence are aflame. There is no hope, there is no despair. There is no desire, no renunciation of desire. There is no knowledge, no ignorance of knowledge.
At the farthest edges of awareness, there has arisen a subtle but monumental shift. There is no longer awareness of undifferentiated reality, there is now awareness as undifferentiated reality.
Consciousness is.
Awareness is ensconced in a ball that is light on the inside and dark on the outside. The dark exterior of this ball pushes away fragments of internal narrative arising out of identity as well as extraneous thoughts arising out of perception; keeps them away from mindfulness of awareness.
The walls of ego are crashing into ruin, the halls of perceptive coherence are aflame. There is no hope, there is no despair. There is no desire, no renunciation of desire. There is no knowledge, no ignorance of knowledge.
At the farthest edges of awareness, there has arisen a subtle but monumental shift. There is no longer awareness of undifferentiated reality, there is now awareness as undifferentiated reality.
Consciousness is.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Rest in peace, Dilip
Dilip Veeraraghavan, receptacle of adolescent socio-political angst, commentator extraordinaire on all aspects of Indian philosophy and culture, ardent Gandhian and inspirational teacher, is no more.
Where his eyes lacked light, his intellect scintillated. The scarce occasions when we would speak of economics, I, in my youthful brashness, would keep trying to prove the infeasibility of Gandhian libertarianism. One day, I told him Gandhian living would turn me into him. He said, `And that thought scares you?' I was cruel; I said, `Yes, it scares me.' He smiled, but I knew it hurt him. Three years on, when now I understand the wisdom of his ways, he has passed into silence.
There was erudition, there was grace, there was simplicity in his demeanor; humor twinkled ceaselessly in eyes fixed always upon infinity. His living example inspired lifestyles of voluntary simplicity in so many who knew him.
As with all lives well-lived, this is an occasion not for sadness, but for silence and remembrance. In memory of one of the gentlest and kindest of men, I embrace both tonight.
Rest in peace, Dilip.
--------------------------------------------------
UPDATE: 10 Feb 2009
The aforegoing eulogy for Dilip was formulaic, impersonal and brief for a reason. It was written not so much as a personal assertion of loss as a message of solidarity with the many who I knew would have been deeply saddened by his passing. It was difficult for me, when I heard the news, to comprehend and process it in an authentic manner instantaneously (I am excruciatingly slow at processing emotion). Now that I have had time to think, I feel that it could be of some value for me to place on record my understanding and appreciation of a true saint among men.
To begin with, I must confess that since I have a very detached perspective towards mortality, Dilip's passing did not occasion much grief for me. If anything, it merely served as a reminder to me of the errant days of my youth when I knew him. It seems hard to believe it was a scarce three years ago that I was frequently in his office, talking Carnatic and western classical music with him. At the risk of sounding cold and heartless, I must further confess that Dilip was interesting to me at the time primarily as a fascinating cognitive science case study. While he was indeed a storehouse of knowledge about Indian history and culture, and was to a large degree instrumental in shaping my appreciation of Tamil Brahmin society, I did not set exceptional store by his erudition.
No, what fascinated me was the quality of his opinions, fluid and unconventional narratives that melted into each other with a strange absence of causal connections. I formulated, in those days, the naive hypothesis that his brain, blessed with exceptional memory and curiosity, was not infected by the need to make the sharp distinctions and categorizations that those with normal eyesight are doomed to make. The darkness that shrouded his existence perpetually had the effect of rendering his inferential mechanism about the world he knew strangely singular and untouched by teleological/theological thinking. The reluctance to ascribe causality to correlative events has become to me, over the years, one of the greatest marks of a deep intellect. Looking back, I find that Dilip possessed this quality to a degree unmatched by almost every other contemporary thinker I have come across (save perhaps Stephen Jay Gould). At the time, I attributed this quality of his to his blindness and did not appreciate its rarity as I do now. (En passant, the careful observer will note in my immature hypothesizing that precise element of teleological thinking that I now have sensitized myself against, and that Dilip was careful to always qualify.) He would mention correlations, and his vast store of knowledge would allow him to find not one but many correlates for almost any socio-cultural datum. He would leave the process of hypothesis formation and likelihood generation to eager theorists like me. I would say something like, `Ah! So you're saying X caused Y caused Z, and resulted in a counter-move A, which in turn led to B'. He would smile and say, `Perhaps'.
At the same time, I conjectured that his love of classical music was an epi-phenomenal proxy for his logical and inferential mechanisms. Since he was consigned to having students read letters and books out to him, the task of perceiving the written word could not be attended with the solitude for cogitation so dear to most intellectuals. I felt that his mind would naturally find deeper satisfaction in the mental stimulation in solitude that music could provide him. At times, I would visit him to find him listening to some Carnatic performance or the other, and would feel envious of his ability to not have to worry about visual stimulation, to perpetually inhabit a world of harmony, rhythm and localized meaning.
At other times, I would pity his dependence on others for the fulfillment of basic daily activities. I would pity not only this dependence, but also his knowledge of the sympathetic figure he must have known he was in the eyes of all who beheld him. It is only now, with distance in time and space allowing less judgmental understanding, that the grace and humor with which he embraced his condition and attempted to set all who interacted with him at ease stand out as marks of a phenomenally self-aware and sensitive intellect.
By rights, Dilip should not really have been on my mind any longer, since my association with him was never really emotional or inspirational, as it has been for others. I find, however, that in the years since I knew him, my appreciation for his character, wisdom and humanity has grown tremendously. As the ultimate futility of reductionist theorizing has impressed itself upon me in recent times, I have often found myself listing people I have known or know of whose intellects have managed to elude this treacherous intellectual trap of conflating representations with understanding and correlation with causality. Einstein and Schrodinger are on that list, as are Gauss and Grothendieck. Tagore is there (though he was hopelessly muddled most of the time, his moments of clarity were blinding and momentous) , and Aurobindo and the unknown authors of the more reasonable of the Upanishads. Dilip is on that list too - my strongest personal influence in favor of avoiding the convenience of causal narratives lest they cloud one's understanding. Thus, unconsciously, Dilip has had much to do with my intellectual evolution from passionate advocacy of possible hypotheses to silent contemplation of the representational structures that convey evidence for or against various hypotheses to my awareness.
And to me, this points to his greatest quality. Above all, he was an honest man. Honest with others, and with himself. His simplicity was the simplicity of a man who had nothing to hide. His originality and wisdom were the consequences of a sharp intellect that owed no epistemological fealty to any but itself. Where others might have chafed at the lack of privacy that blindness enforces, his radiant acceptance of his condition transformed it into a source of spiritual enrichment and intellectual clarity for both himself and those he knew. His humility and compassion arose through a fearlessness that, in turn, arises from a mind at peace with itself and the world.
In a cloud of ego-centric curiosity, I would sit and spin chains of reductionist thought while the Socrates of IIT Madras would sit across from me nodding his head to the faint sound of the veena and to the melody of the synthesis of his own thought with what I would just have told him. I do not regret my past intellectual prejudice, one has to crawl before one learns to walk. Even in his passing then, Dilip has left me a priceless gift, the gift of perspective into my own weaknesses - both past and present.
He has passed into the greater silence - he who could see more than those with eyes, he who could convey more through silence than many with high-flown words, he who was at the same time child-like in innocence and ageless in wisdom, he who changed the lives of all he knew simply by virtue of being a human being.
Dilip Veeraraghavan, I am glad I knew you.
Where his eyes lacked light, his intellect scintillated. The scarce occasions when we would speak of economics, I, in my youthful brashness, would keep trying to prove the infeasibility of Gandhian libertarianism. One day, I told him Gandhian living would turn me into him. He said, `And that thought scares you?' I was cruel; I said, `Yes, it scares me.' He smiled, but I knew it hurt him. Three years on, when now I understand the wisdom of his ways, he has passed into silence.
There was erudition, there was grace, there was simplicity in his demeanor; humor twinkled ceaselessly in eyes fixed always upon infinity. His living example inspired lifestyles of voluntary simplicity in so many who knew him.
As with all lives well-lived, this is an occasion not for sadness, but for silence and remembrance. In memory of one of the gentlest and kindest of men, I embrace both tonight.
Rest in peace, Dilip.
--------------------------------------------------
UPDATE: 10 Feb 2009
The aforegoing eulogy for Dilip was formulaic, impersonal and brief for a reason. It was written not so much as a personal assertion of loss as a message of solidarity with the many who I knew would have been deeply saddened by his passing. It was difficult for me, when I heard the news, to comprehend and process it in an authentic manner instantaneously (I am excruciatingly slow at processing emotion). Now that I have had time to think, I feel that it could be of some value for me to place on record my understanding and appreciation of a true saint among men.
To begin with, I must confess that since I have a very detached perspective towards mortality, Dilip's passing did not occasion much grief for me. If anything, it merely served as a reminder to me of the errant days of my youth when I knew him. It seems hard to believe it was a scarce three years ago that I was frequently in his office, talking Carnatic and western classical music with him. At the risk of sounding cold and heartless, I must further confess that Dilip was interesting to me at the time primarily as a fascinating cognitive science case study. While he was indeed a storehouse of knowledge about Indian history and culture, and was to a large degree instrumental in shaping my appreciation of Tamil Brahmin society, I did not set exceptional store by his erudition.
No, what fascinated me was the quality of his opinions, fluid and unconventional narratives that melted into each other with a strange absence of causal connections. I formulated, in those days, the naive hypothesis that his brain, blessed with exceptional memory and curiosity, was not infected by the need to make the sharp distinctions and categorizations that those with normal eyesight are doomed to make. The darkness that shrouded his existence perpetually had the effect of rendering his inferential mechanism about the world he knew strangely singular and untouched by teleological/theological thinking. The reluctance to ascribe causality to correlative events has become to me, over the years, one of the greatest marks of a deep intellect. Looking back, I find that Dilip possessed this quality to a degree unmatched by almost every other contemporary thinker I have come across (save perhaps Stephen Jay Gould). At the time, I attributed this quality of his to his blindness and did not appreciate its rarity as I do now. (En passant, the careful observer will note in my immature hypothesizing that precise element of teleological thinking that I now have sensitized myself against, and that Dilip was careful to always qualify.) He would mention correlations, and his vast store of knowledge would allow him to find not one but many correlates for almost any socio-cultural datum. He would leave the process of hypothesis formation and likelihood generation to eager theorists like me. I would say something like, `Ah! So you're saying X caused Y caused Z, and resulted in a counter-move A, which in turn led to B'. He would smile and say, `Perhaps'.
At the same time, I conjectured that his love of classical music was an epi-phenomenal proxy for his logical and inferential mechanisms. Since he was consigned to having students read letters and books out to him, the task of perceiving the written word could not be attended with the solitude for cogitation so dear to most intellectuals. I felt that his mind would naturally find deeper satisfaction in the mental stimulation in solitude that music could provide him. At times, I would visit him to find him listening to some Carnatic performance or the other, and would feel envious of his ability to not have to worry about visual stimulation, to perpetually inhabit a world of harmony, rhythm and localized meaning.
At other times, I would pity his dependence on others for the fulfillment of basic daily activities. I would pity not only this dependence, but also his knowledge of the sympathetic figure he must have known he was in the eyes of all who beheld him. It is only now, with distance in time and space allowing less judgmental understanding, that the grace and humor with which he embraced his condition and attempted to set all who interacted with him at ease stand out as marks of a phenomenally self-aware and sensitive intellect.
By rights, Dilip should not really have been on my mind any longer, since my association with him was never really emotional or inspirational, as it has been for others. I find, however, that in the years since I knew him, my appreciation for his character, wisdom and humanity has grown tremendously. As the ultimate futility of reductionist theorizing has impressed itself upon me in recent times, I have often found myself listing people I have known or know of whose intellects have managed to elude this treacherous intellectual trap of conflating representations with understanding and correlation with causality. Einstein and Schrodinger are on that list, as are Gauss and Grothendieck. Tagore is there (though he was hopelessly muddled most of the time, his moments of clarity were blinding and momentous) , and Aurobindo and the unknown authors of the more reasonable of the Upanishads. Dilip is on that list too - my strongest personal influence in favor of avoiding the convenience of causal narratives lest they cloud one's understanding. Thus, unconsciously, Dilip has had much to do with my intellectual evolution from passionate advocacy of possible hypotheses to silent contemplation of the representational structures that convey evidence for or against various hypotheses to my awareness.
And to me, this points to his greatest quality. Above all, he was an honest man. Honest with others, and with himself. His simplicity was the simplicity of a man who had nothing to hide. His originality and wisdom were the consequences of a sharp intellect that owed no epistemological fealty to any but itself. Where others might have chafed at the lack of privacy that blindness enforces, his radiant acceptance of his condition transformed it into a source of spiritual enrichment and intellectual clarity for both himself and those he knew. His humility and compassion arose through a fearlessness that, in turn, arises from a mind at peace with itself and the world.
In a cloud of ego-centric curiosity, I would sit and spin chains of reductionist thought while the Socrates of IIT Madras would sit across from me nodding his head to the faint sound of the veena and to the melody of the synthesis of his own thought with what I would just have told him. I do not regret my past intellectual prejudice, one has to crawl before one learns to walk. Even in his passing then, Dilip has left me a priceless gift, the gift of perspective into my own weaknesses - both past and present.
He has passed into the greater silence - he who could see more than those with eyes, he who could convey more through silence than many with high-flown words, he who was at the same time child-like in innocence and ageless in wisdom, he who changed the lives of all he knew simply by virtue of being a human being.
Dilip Veeraraghavan, I am glad I knew you.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The origin of the gods
Who verily knows and who can declare it, whence it was born and whence comes this creation?
The Gods are later than this world's production. Who knows then whence it first came into being?
He, the first origin of this creation, whether he formed it all or did not form it,
Whose eye controls this world in highest heaven, he verily knows it, or perhaps he knows it not !?
The Gods are later than this world's production. Who knows then whence it first came into being?
He, the first origin of this creation, whether he formed it all or did not form it,
Whose eye controls this world in highest heaven, he verily knows it, or perhaps he knows it not !?
- Rig Veda Mandala 10/Hymn 129
An aspect of Hindu culture that surprises independent observers considerably is the immense menagerie of deities that appears to occupy pride of place in its devotional practices. In no other system of devotional belief does such a large number of gods and goddesses arise. The Vedas are generally cited as the scriptural authority for the existence of all these deities, and the usual explanation attached to their origin is animistic in nature. That is to say, scholars suggest that the early Aryans, like most other nomadic tribes of the time, worshiped natural objects and phenomena as a means to derive predictive power and control over them.
Unfortunately, while this interpretation may possibly be correct as an explanation for the historio-cultural origin of Indian deities, it fails to take into account the subsequent development of the pantheistic monism that underlies Vedanta. Modern day Hindus, therefore, are left facing a piquant predicament: they must reconcile the existence of millions of gods and demons in their religious culture with the triune Unity of Sat-Chit-Ananda that is proclaimed to be the ultimate origin of all that exists. Since the latter concept arises at a later date and appears to be more comprehensive in its understanding of reality, the question Hindus have to answer is, `In what context do we understand our vast array of deities without appearing to be fruitcakes?' Given the unspoken stigma attached to polytheism in Semitic traditions, it may be mildly socially beneficial also to understand the philosophical roots of the polytheism of our culture.
My exegesis here begins from and draws centrally upon an examination of the last two tristubhs of the Nasadiya Sukta (quoted above). The rishi who has composed this hymn suggests that it is not feasible to ask the question `What came before creation?', since the very possibility of fragmented sentience arose after it had come into being. Crucially, the phrase, `The gods are later than this world's production' is best understood by empathizing with the pantheistic solipsism of this rishi's mind - the entire universe is considered here to arise, and to have no existence other than, as a thought of the underlying Creator. I suggest that the `gods' referenced in this phrase can best be understood as occupying the same metaphysical universe as Platonic ideals.
What, you ask me, are Platonic ideals? Platonic Idealism is the school of philosophy that emerges from Plato's theory of Forms. Here, Plato suggests that there exists a realm of ideas that has absolute reality. The reality the human mind perceives is a consequence of the human consciousness' projection of ideal objects into the observer's perception. Thus, when an observer imagines/draws/sees a `circle', he is merely instantiating the Platonic ideal `circle' in his own consciousness. The observer's perception of a `rock' is simply an imperfect reflection of the ideal `rock'. Should you, gentle reader, choose to, at this point, yawn and exclaim, `Boring!', I urge you to consider that Platonic Idealism is the only philosophical theory that justifies the existence of pure mathematics. In the mathematical realm, this is isomorphic to the statement, `Mathematics is discovered, not created'. Similarly, empirical science relies largely on the belief in the existence of an objectively evaluable set of `truths', a philosophical view that draws largely from the thought of Pythagoras and Plato. Thus, if you are a 21st century scientist or mathematician, Platonic Idealism is what brings you your grant funding. Do not scoff at it!
It is tempting for me to take a detour into the subsequent evolution of Neoplatonism through Plotinus' understanding of Plato, but that is too delicious a subject for me to refer to in passing. Suffice it to say that Neoplatonism is the Greek advaita, leading to mystic movements such as Gnosticism and indirectly, Sufism. Having described Platonic idealism and established that it is not a metaphysical premise to be taken lightly, let us continue with our examination of Hindu gods as inhabitants of Plato's world of Ideas.
I will not dwell upon trying to prove this hypothesis, primarily because there is no empirical evidence that I can provide that would be deemed sufficient. Had the possibility of finding correspondences between the deities of Indian mythology and abstract concepts in Western philology enthused me, I might have taken up the challenge. However, our hypothesis does not claim such a correspondence, it claims that these entities belong to the same metaphysical `class' of entities. Thus, our hypothesis suggests that while there may not exist a deity of gravitation in the Indian ethos, the physicist's conception of a `law' of gravity is metaphysically equivalent to belief in the existence of a deity. Conversely, while there is no unanimity among Western philosophers over the existence of qualia, the Indian conception of a deity of sensual desire is essentially a universalized formulation of the corresponding quale. Since there is no objective way of analyzing whether people actually `feel equivalently' about an entity, there is no objective way for me to prove this hypothesis. Readers will have to use their own subjective understanding deployed upon subjective anecdotal evidence to verify this (ignoring, if they can, the empiricists' anguished screams of horror).
If we grant this hypothesis validity, the statement, `The gods are later than this world's production. Who knows then whence it came into being?' makes perfect sense. All it is saying is that all representational structures (ideas) arose after the origin of the Cosmos. None of them, therefore, can be projected into individual consciousness to perceive the Cosmos as it was before these ideas came into existence. There is a much deeper story here and has to do with the manner in which the universe comes into existence, but that must await another day to be told. (Yes, I know about Planck time. As I said, I do not wish to bring it up here and treat it partially.)
`Are our esteemed deities simply triangles and trees then?', the perplexed Hindu might ask. The answer is an unqualified `Yes', much as it might upset some cultural and aesthetic sensibilities. What about all the gods and deities that appear in visions to devotees and instruct them in all kinds of activities? Auto-suggestion and self-hypnosis. Christian mystics have seen Jesus, Sufis never see anybody, Pastafarians claim to be touched by `His' noodly appendages (how dare you mock our faith!). Are there separate departments in the supernatural world for every religious group's mystics? Or is it simpler to understand that extreme devotional fervor causes the devotee's consciousness to instantiate objects of affection and devotion with increased realism?
This does not, of course, mean that gods are not real. In fact, this proves that they are. Is a circle real? Is loneliness real? Long after you and I are dead, children will still be drawing circles with compasses. So long as consciousness remains in the Universe, there will be loneliness also. In Plato's vision, the world of the gods was absolutely real; human reality was merely a persistent illusion. In the Vedantic tradition, neither the world of ideas, nor the world of projected images is absolutely real, but since they are all projections of the thought of Sat-Chit-Ananda, they are not unreal either.
Thus, we arrive at an understanding that Hindu gods and deities are simply representations of ideas - that is the entire span of their ontology, no more, no less. Does that mean that the `concept' Ganesha has no more social value than the concept `runny nose'? Not necessarily. There must also be addressed the question of the value of the associated mythology.
One may think of Indian deities and their associated mythologies as art composed over centuries of civilization. Like all good poetry, they draw upon the life experiences of many. Like all good music, it is those fragments of it which speaks of happy endings and tenets of moral behavior that are passed on down the ages over fire-lit evenings of communal revelry. In the process of transmission over generations, they thus attract and become repositories of cultural universals. With the invention of writing, fluid adaptive oral transmission was replaced by frozen written replicas that survived for generations. The poetry became ossified in the spirit of the Middle Ages and is now a relic of those days. Hence it is anachronistic now, and is justly held to be thus by all rational people.
We can see though that Ganesha has more social value than a runny nose, simply because more people find Ganesha to be relevant than runny noses (when they don't have a cold, that is). Ganesha is a cultural artifact that binds a people together in the knowledge of a shared heritage, an extremely valuable object for the stability and integrity of a community. Does the concept of Ganesha, which holds value for a small section of the world's population, have as much value as more universal entities like abstract mathematics and van Gogh's sadness? Probably not. In the case of the specific example below, almost certainly not! While we must be careful not to trivialize the importance of religious tokens, efforts to exaggerate them must also be avoided.
In conclusion, I hope that those who find this conclusion meaningful will be able to understand Hindu rituals and mythology in a more rational and integral context. When a bald-headed priest offers up incantations to an elephant-headed deity, it is possible to see ignorance and superstition. It is also possible, at that moment, to think of the Platonic ideal that deity seeks to project (in this case, `new beginnings') and the cultural detritus the deity's cultural identity tows in its wake and to find value in that reminder.
Unfortunately, while this interpretation may possibly be correct as an explanation for the historio-cultural origin of Indian deities, it fails to take into account the subsequent development of the pantheistic monism that underlies Vedanta. Modern day Hindus, therefore, are left facing a piquant predicament: they must reconcile the existence of millions of gods and demons in their religious culture with the triune Unity of Sat-Chit-Ananda that is proclaimed to be the ultimate origin of all that exists. Since the latter concept arises at a later date and appears to be more comprehensive in its understanding of reality, the question Hindus have to answer is, `In what context do we understand our vast array of deities without appearing to be fruitcakes?' Given the unspoken stigma attached to polytheism in Semitic traditions, it may be mildly socially beneficial also to understand the philosophical roots of the polytheism of our culture.
My exegesis here begins from and draws centrally upon an examination of the last two tristubhs of the Nasadiya Sukta (quoted above). The rishi who has composed this hymn suggests that it is not feasible to ask the question `What came before creation?', since the very possibility of fragmented sentience arose after it had come into being. Crucially, the phrase, `The gods are later than this world's production' is best understood by empathizing with the pantheistic solipsism of this rishi's mind - the entire universe is considered here to arise, and to have no existence other than, as a thought of the underlying Creator. I suggest that the `gods' referenced in this phrase can best be understood as occupying the same metaphysical universe as Platonic ideals.
What, you ask me, are Platonic ideals? Platonic Idealism is the school of philosophy that emerges from Plato's theory of Forms. Here, Plato suggests that there exists a realm of ideas that has absolute reality. The reality the human mind perceives is a consequence of the human consciousness' projection of ideal objects into the observer's perception. Thus, when an observer imagines/draws/sees a `circle', he is merely instantiating the Platonic ideal `circle' in his own consciousness. The observer's perception of a `rock' is simply an imperfect reflection of the ideal `rock'. Should you, gentle reader, choose to, at this point, yawn and exclaim, `Boring!', I urge you to consider that Platonic Idealism is the only philosophical theory that justifies the existence of pure mathematics. In the mathematical realm, this is isomorphic to the statement, `Mathematics is discovered, not created'. Similarly, empirical science relies largely on the belief in the existence of an objectively evaluable set of `truths', a philosophical view that draws largely from the thought of Pythagoras and Plato. Thus, if you are a 21st century scientist or mathematician, Platonic Idealism is what brings you your grant funding. Do not scoff at it!
It is tempting for me to take a detour into the subsequent evolution of Neoplatonism through Plotinus' understanding of Plato, but that is too delicious a subject for me to refer to in passing. Suffice it to say that Neoplatonism is the Greek advaita, leading to mystic movements such as Gnosticism and indirectly, Sufism. Having described Platonic idealism and established that it is not a metaphysical premise to be taken lightly, let us continue with our examination of Hindu gods as inhabitants of Plato's world of Ideas.
I will not dwell upon trying to prove this hypothesis, primarily because there is no empirical evidence that I can provide that would be deemed sufficient. Had the possibility of finding correspondences between the deities of Indian mythology and abstract concepts in Western philology enthused me, I might have taken up the challenge. However, our hypothesis does not claim such a correspondence, it claims that these entities belong to the same metaphysical `class' of entities. Thus, our hypothesis suggests that while there may not exist a deity of gravitation in the Indian ethos, the physicist's conception of a `law' of gravity is metaphysically equivalent to belief in the existence of a deity. Conversely, while there is no unanimity among Western philosophers over the existence of qualia, the Indian conception of a deity of sensual desire is essentially a universalized formulation of the corresponding quale. Since there is no objective way of analyzing whether people actually `feel equivalently' about an entity, there is no objective way for me to prove this hypothesis. Readers will have to use their own subjective understanding deployed upon subjective anecdotal evidence to verify this (ignoring, if they can, the empiricists' anguished screams of horror).
If we grant this hypothesis validity, the statement, `The gods are later than this world's production. Who knows then whence it came into being?' makes perfect sense. All it is saying is that all representational structures (ideas) arose after the origin of the Cosmos. None of them, therefore, can be projected into individual consciousness to perceive the Cosmos as it was before these ideas came into existence. There is a much deeper story here and has to do with the manner in which the universe comes into existence, but that must await another day to be told. (Yes, I know about Planck time. As I said, I do not wish to bring it up here and treat it partially.)
`Are our esteemed deities simply triangles and trees then?', the perplexed Hindu might ask. The answer is an unqualified `Yes', much as it might upset some cultural and aesthetic sensibilities. What about all the gods and deities that appear in visions to devotees and instruct them in all kinds of activities? Auto-suggestion and self-hypnosis. Christian mystics have seen Jesus, Sufis never see anybody, Pastafarians claim to be touched by `His' noodly appendages (how dare you mock our faith!). Are there separate departments in the supernatural world for every religious group's mystics? Or is it simpler to understand that extreme devotional fervor causes the devotee's consciousness to instantiate objects of affection and devotion with increased realism?
This does not, of course, mean that gods are not real. In fact, this proves that they are. Is a circle real? Is loneliness real? Long after you and I are dead, children will still be drawing circles with compasses. So long as consciousness remains in the Universe, there will be loneliness also. In Plato's vision, the world of the gods was absolutely real; human reality was merely a persistent illusion. In the Vedantic tradition, neither the world of ideas, nor the world of projected images is absolutely real, but since they are all projections of the thought of Sat-Chit-Ananda, they are not unreal either.
`That which is awake in those that sleep is a God seeking to realize Itself in Itself'
Thus, we arrive at an understanding that Hindu gods and deities are simply representations of ideas - that is the entire span of their ontology, no more, no less. Does that mean that the `concept' Ganesha has no more social value than the concept `runny nose'? Not necessarily. There must also be addressed the question of the value of the associated mythology.
One may think of Indian deities and their associated mythologies as art composed over centuries of civilization. Like all good poetry, they draw upon the life experiences of many. Like all good music, it is those fragments of it which speaks of happy endings and tenets of moral behavior that are passed on down the ages over fire-lit evenings of communal revelry. In the process of transmission over generations, they thus attract and become repositories of cultural universals. With the invention of writing, fluid adaptive oral transmission was replaced by frozen written replicas that survived for generations. The poetry became ossified in the spirit of the Middle Ages and is now a relic of those days. Hence it is anachronistic now, and is justly held to be thus by all rational people.
We can see though that Ganesha has more social value than a runny nose, simply because more people find Ganesha to be relevant than runny noses (when they don't have a cold, that is). Ganesha is a cultural artifact that binds a people together in the knowledge of a shared heritage, an extremely valuable object for the stability and integrity of a community. Does the concept of Ganesha, which holds value for a small section of the world's population, have as much value as more universal entities like abstract mathematics and van Gogh's sadness? Probably not. In the case of the specific example below, almost certainly not! While we must be careful not to trivialize the importance of religious tokens, efforts to exaggerate them must also be avoided.
In conclusion, I hope that those who find this conclusion meaningful will be able to understand Hindu rituals and mythology in a more rational and integral context. When a bald-headed priest offers up incantations to an elephant-headed deity, it is possible to see ignorance and superstition. It is also possible, at that moment, to think of the Platonic ideal that deity seeks to project (in this case, `new beginnings') and the cultural detritus the deity's cultural identity tows in its wake and to find value in that reminder.
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About Me
- Nisheeth
- I is a place-holder to prevent perpetual infinite regress. I is a marker on the road that ends in I not being.