Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Put on Your Thinking Cap

Who are you to cast the first stone?


“Why are you doing this?” She was visibly pained.


“Does it matter?” Paisanomous replied with remarkable equanimity. He didn’t move. His face was bright and calm, like a full moon on a spring night.


“Does anything matter at all in life?” She asked.


“If it didn’t, you wouldn’t have asked the question.” He said.


“Why do you hide behind a façade? Why cant you be yourself?”


Paisanomous looked at her, eye to eye. His eyes were so sharp as if it were piercing her forehead, reading her mind. He replied softly “I don’t hide. I just reveal less to cause to form an opinion.”


She lifted her eyebrows, uncertain about every thing that she felt certain about him ever. “And what would be that opinion you wish to be formed in your audience?”


“Opinions are matter of perceptions. It is their prerogative to form one, in whatever form they wish to give shape to their prejudices. What is life, if not a sum of experiences? What is an experience, if not the product of perceptions resulting from the interaction of random events more randomized by entropy? And what are perceptions if not the sum of prejudices internalized in the mind?”


“Why would they want to give shape to their prejudices?”


“To get moral sanction of possessing one, from others who in turn give shape to theirs and draw moral sanction from their neighbors. To assume the effect as right they set out to prove right in the first place, so that they don’t end up disproving its existence. To find congruent minds because incongruent thought process scares them.”


“Why do you think an incongruent thought process scare them?” She wasn’t sure if she allowed herself to be excluded from those she referred to as them.


Paisanomous rose. It was well lit room with glass curtains hanging down like a waterfall. He moved to the window and looked at the city streets through the glass pane. He saw a salesman trying to sell his product, a worthless bum begging at the streets, a shining Bentley limousine that spoke of royalty, waiting for the green signal and a woman crossing the street holding a young child’s hand. The street wasn’t crowded and it was a perfect slow start to the long week ahead. He smiled, thinking to himself the spectrum of various people – the rich, poor, the able, young, the guided, the guiding presented before him in the panoramic canvas called life and a spark of thought flitted across his mind as to where all their trajectories are taking them to. He wondered whether they realized that each of them had a unique trajectory and that they had the power to keep it unique.


He turned to her and replied “Because they have abdicated their power of reason and succumbed to mediocrity called conformance and congruence. Because they have handed over the responsibility of forming opinions to what merely meets the eye and not what lies beneath and their ability to think and analyse. They seek moral sanction of all their mediocre actions by forcing others to be mediocre, conform to ones own standards, never excel, never think, fritter away the unique human reasoning ability for a song. For every man who desires to excel, who wishes to reach the ideal, who treads on a virgin path to make new roads often armed only hope and vision, there are a million who will pull him down, who will say that it has not been done before, who will put thorns on his path by way of forcing him back to the cocoon of inertia which they have so comfortably learned to live with.”


“So, what do you intend by all your changing costumes and skins? Why the frivolous guy image, when you are good and when you know that you are good? Aren’t you bothered about your reputation? What will people think of you?” Her stomach was churning. It was a strange numb feeling of dispersed pain, forced to disperse by the super conscience that would not allow such a pain to surface, for such a pain will validate all its contradictions.


He was glad to see her pain. Her very pain had titled the balance on his side. He continued To discover that one in the million, who has the perspicacity to suspect the opposite when a million others who refuse to use their power of reasoning, who form opinions coloured with their prejudices, who are mentally blind to see that which doesn’t meet the eye. "


“Argh!…..you mentioned reputation. That’s a dangerous word. Reputation is what others think you are. What are reputations, if not functions of time? They change. A supremely secure man doesn’t bother about reputations. He doesn’t hand over the right to hurt him or destroy him, to others. He is so powerful that he desires the best and he desires to be the best. He is the powerhouse of this world. “


“ But you caused to form an opinion by your actions? Didn’t you?” Her indignation was palpable.


“ Yes I did. But not before revealing enough to challenge their ability to use their mind, to see things which otherwise is not visible to a mediocre mind.”


“ So you mean to say that character is the real thing? And that it what is one actually is? And that one must really care for?” She asked.


He smiled, as if he was waiting for this question and said “No. Just like reputation which is what others think you are, Character is what you think you are. It is also coloured, but with your own prejudices. And the most ridiculous part is that one doesn’t even realize that one is prejudiced. One is simply ignorant. Most often one is guilty of not only ignorance, but also ignorance of the fact that one is ignorant. This form of ignorance is the cause of mental inertia and is the most preposterous crime that has befallen humanity and precluded its enlightenment.”


“But what right do you have to cast the first stone?” She fired.


“By the same right you threw this question to me.” Paisanomous left the room.


8 comments:

Voodoo Woman! said...

Whoa whoa whoa! I loved the incisive end of the post. Wit meets intellect!

I did check out ur blog a few days back, before u hopped onto mine! Infact, even scurried through your archives :) Ten Monkeys was Superb :D That was a thought I took back home and pondered about in my raatri ceiling staring session!

The Soul Doctor said...

@ Voodoo Woman

Thanks for visiting my blog. Your comments are encouraging :)

" Wit meets intellect " - I am forced to suspect that you got the link for this blog from my orkut profile :) did you?

Voodoo Woman seems to be your log in ID for blogger just to browse since I am unable to get accross to your page through this ID. Which is your page?

Karthik

Voodoo Woman! said...

Ermm..thats cuz I work on Wordpress. I read your page through Orkut. I commented on your page cuz U took the pain to pass through my scribblings.

Thoughtstorm...Rings a bell?

Voodoo Woman! said...

Went thru ur album too...U DO have an eye for beauty! Or atleast I would want to believe so ;) Some pictures are beautiful!

And aah! A uniform wala.....Impressive :)

The Soul Doctor said...

voodoo

Now i can place you well. Thanks for your compliments. I am glad :)

And yeah...uniform wala...yes...Thats my hobby. In my free time I work :P :)

Karthik

Anonymous said...

You have the ability to think, to put your thoughts into words. I appreciate/am glad that you are capable of doing so.

I think you would do well by using simpler words and less complex sentences.

The Soul Doctor said...

@ Anonymous

I think you would do well by using simpler words and less complex sentences.

Thanks for your comments. I shall keep that in mind while posting new articles. :)

karthik

عبده العمراوى said...

شركة المثالية للتنظيف بالدمام