My God is my motherland, not the truncated landmass but the pristine pure eternal India that stretches from the high Himalayas to the vast plains where humanity struggles to ascend to the kingdom of the heavens. My love knows no bounds of territory even as my consciousness broods on the primal seeds of creation whence flows the eternal Ganga of human hopes and dreams. This life is but a transit through a field fallow but rich in possibility where we offer our labour of love, sink in our ploughshare to reap the harvest of our future fulfilment. Here the day is bright and the night is dark for the sun to set aglow our attainments and the stars to guide as beacons in the trackless paths through time. But all this is not mere poetic fancy but the living light within whence spring the deeds divine to inundate the land of our dreams with the flood of future fruition that will not only slake the thirst of our kith and kin but will overspread to the rest of humanity and elevate them to a higher purpose of life and living.
The ideal must meet the individual and raise him slowly but surely to itself. The ideal must not be lowered nor must it be compromised to suit the exigencies of the times but must be maintained pure and perfect as a level to be attained in the fullness of time. Till then the ideal must be attempted in practical living as far as is possible under existing circumstances of physical and psychological reality and must never in frustration of non-attainment be given up altogether. Everything is time-bound and so must the ideal in practical application be. And to fit the infinite within the finite bounds of the evolving mind, adjustments are to made so that, as Swamiji says, it does not become an impossible ideal to follow. But care must be taken to see to it that the ideal thereby is not perverted from its pristine self even as its application suited to psychological constraints is adjusted for the while. It is this dynamic deal between the ever evolving practice and the constancy of the pure idea that constitutes the core of manifesting consciousness.
Mere suppositions and speculations are not sufficient tools of national development nor are they adequate expressions of civilisation but when activated in real life-terms when they become productive of human good, they serve as catalysts for sociological change. Our history is replete with the discovery of such principles of thought, our heritage permeated by the outflow of such spiritual aphorisms and we are blessed indeed that we may take recourse to such a high fund of knowledge as we bid our brethren godspeed in this voyage of national self-discovery.
Where does patriotism fit into this universal scheme of things? As they say, it is globalised consciousness and localised living, the finite expression en route to the infinite inexpressible essence of existence. The finite is on one side, so to say, and the infinite on the other. These are like the reality and its shadow, not quite though in physical terms but of altered dimension altogether. It is this filtered consciousness that lends meaning to life and impels us towards freedom.This alternate idea of bondage and freedom tugs at us lifelong and provides the fundamental impulse for all activity here on earth. When it operates at the local level which is the level of the ordinary individual in solitary capacity in life's thoroughfare or in collective capacity in societal organisation, it brings into the limited frame of human dreams and aspirations the ideal of patriotism as the mode of collective welfare where affinities are high and discordance bearable. The ultimate freedom of the human personality then limits itself for the while to nationalistic bounds and in the limited laboratory of kindred souls the broader ideals are pursued. But this need not degenerate to narrow nationalism, for, essentially, nomenclature need not deflect one from the universal ideal nor active programme in limited set-ups deviate one from the call of the cosmos. It is here that philosophy lends one sanity and direction in movement and ever keeps one rooted to the original impulse, the call of absolute freedom. The finite and the infinite are wedded in harmony as practice approximates perfection in the ideal.
Written by Sugata Bose
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