Writing is becoming increasingly an exercise in futility as readers of perceptive posts diminish by the day. All that sells, I cannot write, and all that I write, will not sell. Hence, perhaps, the time comes when I ought to reconsider options and go back to myself being a reader instead to fulfil the writings of men that have been and help myself to a grander fund of knowledge whence I may recommence this fruitless exercise with fresher input of data and renewed inspiration.
Right now only colours sell and so sell photographs of men who have successfully acquainted themselves with the frivolous public whose business is but to surf through inconsequential posts that carry little meaning beyond surface addressing the scheme of things.
The early Buddhists were accurate in their reading of mass psychology when they had masterfully infused the masses with images and idols of gods and goddesses and the Buddha as their sovereign deity in stone, in wood, in metal et al. The Buddhist thinkers were spot on in their detection of this mass propensity towards the symbol more than what it signifies.
The trend continues even today unabated and the masses are more held in the image than the man, more absorbed by the slogan than by the deeper message implicit and even explicit in the elaborate talk. It is the concise superficial slogan that wins over the deeper definitive talk, the commoner of scant concentration and momentary attention being drawn invariably by the coloured and the flavoured hollowness of appearance rather than by the solid substance of the being behind. The consequence of this absence of durable attention is the progressive decline in culture which I consider it my cultural duty to arrest which prompts me to constantly write essays that will stimulate thinking and direct the mind toward the higher imperatives of life.
What is today transpiring in society is but the reflection of the gross mind that is the womb of such thoughts that seek fruition in infertile action, violations of the human spirit as can only only be ascribed as savage. This is the inevitable outward flow of the uncultured mind that knows no restraint in action, being habitually used to rapid responses to external stimuli without the halting process intermediate that is spent in reflection and deep thought before charting out the course of action. This is but the direct result of this cultural degradation that I have thus far in so many ways alluded to in this essay, and this trend needs to be reversed if we are to avert a major global cultural cataclysm that will be ruinous to our fate as a species.
The signs are there, the bells are tolling, it is time to comprehend the consequences and act accordingly, here and now with martial clarity and quickness. Else, desperate times are ahead for all of us.
Written by Sugata Bose
Sugata Bose Thank you for reading through.
Sugata Bose Abhishek Bose The irresistible flow of the word that like a cataract draws itself unto merger with the river below, each drop, separate and united, in an almost indistinct distinctness, joins in with its brethren to form the cumulative mass of the flowing river that empties itself of all vanity of identity in the sea. So must we be as we individually roll out our paths towards the collective destination of at first society, next humanity and eventually in that solitary final lap where the singular and the plural meet in a resolved ultimate absoluteness of the Self and all traces of distinctive separateness or a forged union vanish in one infinitude of existence, consciousness and bliss.
No comments:
Post a Comment