The point of power
The invitation was unique and so was the topic. ?Katha?, a ?profit for all? NGO, ?working in the areas of language, culture and translation? and ?known for its endeavours to spread the joy of reading, knowing and living? had invited me to address their International Utsav in a session titled ?Power, Glory and Lies?.
The invitation was unique and so was the topic. ‘Katha’, a ‘profit for all’ NGO, “working in the areas of language, culture and translation” and “known for its endeavours to spread the joy of reading, knowing and living” had invited me to address their International Utsav in a session titled ‘Power, Glory and Lies’.
I had never been invited to speak on as provocative a topic as this. The structure of the Katha conference was itself alluringly open ended. The topics ranged from ‘Stereotypes and Leopard Spots’ to ‘Rogues Gallery? The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’ to ‘Words on Fire, Frozen Tongues’. So I went to listen as much as to speak. I was also plagued by self-doubt — had I been invited as a crafty practitioner of the topic of my session?
In any case, the invitation triggered a chain of thought on the topic through the idiom of the ‘katha’. It is easy to be sanctimonious and moralistic about ‘Power, Glory and Lies’. It is easy to preach on the subject and even easier not to practise what one preaches. If truth be told, these three elements are inextricably intertwined as three crucial dimensions of the ‘katha’ of life itself. No greater katha, in size, dimension, scope and subject matter exists than the oceanic theme of the Mahabharata. It is at once supreme ‘itihaas’ and unparalleled ‘kavya’. It is at once incomparable philosophy and a unique confrontation with ethical dilemmas. Its centrality and uniqueness lies not only in celebrating the radiant heritage of India but also in preserving this legacy of the Asian people as a whole. It is a remarkably “sprawling and capacious, encyclopaedic edifice to which poets, acharyas and thinkers brought their diverse offerings… making it a rare meeting ground of different traditions, styles and viewpoints”.
Duryodhana knows what is right and proper but is honest enough to say that he has no inclination to follow it or to refrain from what is wrong. The predicament of Duryodhana is one through the ages — a dilemma of power and glory. Lies come in different sizes and colours. Philosophically, the truth of truths is that truth has many parts and many facets. Byron asked, “And after all, what is a lie? ’Tis but the truth in masquerade. And I defy — historians, heroes, lawyers, priests — To put a fact without some leaven of lie.”
The greatest upholder of truth and righteousness, Yudhisthira, when faced with imminent defeat at the hands of Dronacharya, was advised by Krishna to say something to demoralise Drona. Yudhisthira uttered loudly, “Ashwathama is dead” and then added, almost inaudibly “... man or elephant.” The inaudible tailpiece was meant to appease his conscience for uttering a deliberate and motivated lie. No doubt Yudhisthira stooped to conquer, for everything is supposedly fair in love and war. Samuel Butler’s light-hearted quip is also relevant:
“Any fool can tell the truth,
But it requires a man of some sense
To know how to tell a lie well”.
As time passes, this realisation of the ephemeral nature of power and glory sets in. The Arabic saying that “Glory may be a fire but tomorrow it will be ashes” or Thomas Gray’s words, “The paths to glory lead but to the grave,” struck Emperor Ashoka after the huge massacres at Kalinga, when he saw the futility of it all. He realised that “Glories, like glow-worms, shine bright from afar, but when looked at from near, have neither heat nor light” (John Webster). Ashoka did not abandon his empire. He simply became a great emperor by becoming a great human being: he abandoned ego and aggrandisement; war and violence.
Krishna’s approach is relevant even today in the Kurukshetra of politicians. Krishna’s dictum of detachment must mean that “glory and power may be the consequence, but ought not to be the motive of our actions”. This is also the essence of the Gita. The dilemmas and the ultimate goal of human life are best summed up by Arjuna when he says, “I desire not power nor glory; I do not wish to go Heaven, nor rebirth. All I want is to be able to end and eradicate the afflictions and sufferings of fellow human beings.” Krishna tells him to eschew such escapist sentiments.
Power and glory are necessary to ameliorate the sufferings of humanity and to fight injustices. For Krishna, power is but a means to do service. That is why Krishna’s Gita is a continuous clarion call for doing one’s duty, to do battle in the real world, without which the wrongs and injustices of the world cannot be righted. Hence Krishna commands us even to go to ‘war’ for ‘peace’. While the Ramayana concentrates on ‘Maryada’, the Mahabharata summons us to the battle of life.
One must end with the Gandhian values of Ahimsa, Mahavira’s message of non-violence and Buddha’s call for compassion and understanding. The ultimate realisation is that power and glory can never be the ultimate values of life. Even as a means to an end, one must follow Colton’s warning about falsehood, viz. “A falsehood is often rocked by truth, but she soon outgrows her cradle and discards her nurse.” It is ironical that “Ahimsa Parmo Dharma,” viz. non-violence being the supreme virtue, is part of a stanza of the Mahabharata, the greatest book of war. In answer to Yudhisthira’s query, Bhishma says that a man is relieved of sorrow only by eschewing violence in all forms and all aspects, viz. thought, word, deed and (interestingly, he adds,) eating. Bhishma insists that all four must coexist. He emphasises that a quadruped cannot possibly walk in a balanced manner on only three legs.
Interestingly, it is considered that to indulge in self-praise for self-aggrandisement, is violence against one’s own self. However, resort to this lesser verbal violence may well prevent the more ghastly spectacle of physical violence. If only — and it is a big if — Draupadi would have avoided the same verbal non-violence in not allowing her by-now infamous words (that the progeny of the blind is also blind) to escape her lips, perhaps the Mahabharata would not have taken place at all.