WHY IS ‘SILENCE’ GOLDEN?

WHY IS ‘SILENCE’ GOLDEN?

The great Indian Self hates Truth. It demands subordination, and acquiescence of the self. And the elites of Indian bustling cities of grace and squalor love to paddle in the murky and darkened realms of inequality, illiteracy, superstition, injustice, usury, ethnic cleansing, malaise and inhumanity, child labour and poverty. Prophet loves the poor and millions of Indians are poor and thereby they have unknowingly been the true votary of the Prophet. Rare is the leader like Gandhi who loves to face the Truth with all its ugliness and crudeness.

It invites no enemy and eases the ladder of wealth, position, power and rank without much calibration. It also helps control our blood pressure, sugar and cholesterol. Innate in it is the anti ageing formula of the much hyped and mass market products being manufactured by babas and pirs of our time to uplift the Indians to the global level. It increases life expectancy and durability of the minion S O U L with the thickest layers of dirt, dust, and rust and soot.

Sudhir Kakar in his memoir ‘a book of memory’ loves to confess that we Indians from prince to peon love to be surrounded by a human shield of liars, flatters and chamchas. The great Indian Self hates Truth. It demands subordination, and acquiescence of the self. And the elites of Indian bustling cities of grace and squalor love to paddle in the murky and darkened realms of inequality, illiteracy, superstition, injustice, usury, ethnic cleansing, malaise and inhumanity, child labour and poverty. Prophet loves the poor and millions of Indians are poor and thereby they have unknowingly been the true votary of the Prophet. Rare is the leader like Gandhi who loves to face the Truth with all its ugliness and crudeness. No humbug, no hypocrisy, no chhitary and snobbery are allowed for his immaculate leadership that India witnessed.

  • I am silent:When I see my classroom empty because of students’ extreme lure for private tuition.
  • When I take a cup of tea from a seven year boy’s feeble hand.
  • When I listen to the boring lectures in seminars which have no relevance to our reality.
  • When I visit the rural hospitals and health centers without registered doctors and medicines and the patients queue crosses eyes’ horizon.
  • When I see petty bosses of all sectors pilfering money and other resources in some way or other from the poorest of the poor.
  • When I visit primary schools running with twenty or thirty students (class I-IV) taking all, sitting on sacks.
  • When I hear petty netas miking flood of promises to the poor.
  • When I read a paper with the front jacket of a beautiful hur.
  • When I see in a crowded bus a woman with a child strive to stand to balance the jerks of the bus, while a proud educated Indian youth busy in facebooking sitting by that lady nonchalant.
  • When I see school masters busy in tuition and trade of the products of multinational companies.
  • When I see a woman at sealdah sell her body for Rs. 60.
  • When I read ‘Everybody loves a Good Drought’.
  • When I visit village haats where old and worn out garments are being sold and tribal mothers with childs on their backs and a big tumbler of haria (a local alcohol made from rice) on her head walking toward haat for the impoverished labour drunkers.
  • When I see the tribal women and unmarried girls packed in savaris like sardins to go to their days’ work by Birpara road.

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