Reptile

An emissery of misery once whispered to me,

In the hallowed hallways of my dubious beliefs,

To have trust in the strivings of a righteous man,

And never to don the ring adorning Gyges' hands.

Contemplate did I the virtues of such posturing,

Of the acouterments and platitudes overflowing,

For a conduct that rests on doubt and deception,

And a life that forebodes weakness and dejection.

Hemlock found its way into the purest of hearts,
Vanquishing in its path all of the entrails and hopes,
Of a man whose knowledge lay imbued in ignorance,
Whose pursuit of virtue tantamounted to arrogance.

For justice never reveals when it is sought the most,
Perhaps an end that disappears from pillar to post,
Eluding the beguiled as they trudge slowly in vain,
To loosely grasp what can be mumbled in disdain.

The victorious and crowned have sparkled and shone,
Across the ages with their machinations made known,
By the strangest of saints bejeweled in Medicis' frames,
Macabre in consequences, Machiavelli being the name.

Strike did he at the heart of the conspiracy of good,

Leaving righteous living as the infection of the fool,
A saviour in disguise defying the effeminate effrontery,

Echoed by the eunuchs of the divine and the academy.

Harrowing may be these words to the unworldy uninitiated,
Ill-advised and mal-adjusted to this mechanical revolvement,
And to ones with the blood of reptiles underneath their skin,
No greater good than to shed the veil and shine the evil within.



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Change

Of an age that seems to have slipped by,
And of the transformations one must endure,
It must be said that some things remain the same,
Just as Walter White was always Gray.

Strontium Ninety

When the merchants of bloodshed in fear,

Mongered to each other about prospects,

Of this cold world splintering into two,

One painted red and the other true blue,

The agency of the atom pointed to,

The scattered islands of the indigo Pacific,

For the salvation of the greatest nation,

Ever to pillage and plunder nature.

Sparkling lagoons and atolls and reefs,

Local folks who moved in tears and grief,

To north and south and thither of the test,

Or wherever the uniform said was best,

The people of Marshall Islands banished to,

Promised lands to end the world of wars,

And witness the lumiere spectacle from shacks,

In disintegrating skins and radioactive hats. 

To frighten the red enemy with heavy artillery,

Bomb clergy without the benefit of clarity,

Conjured fissions and fusions from Limbo,

Christening them Abel, Baker and Bravo,

Who lit up the skies and spread the ashes,

Far and between the spans of the planet,

Only to settle down and seep into those,
All that breathes and all that is born.

Yet the agency of the atom never much worried,
Whether these isotopes would remain tethered,
Only to the blackened sands and half-lifed hearts,
Of the locals both in rags and in uniforms,
Nor in their wildest visions did they imagine,
That planetary winds would carry this sewage,
Into the streets and curbs of Buffalo, New York,
And a child's dead bones in sunny Singapore.

Of the tragic cover-up and research that ensued,
On global circulation and deposition of radionuclides,
Or of the thousands of corpses bodysnatched for studies,
For the contamination of calcium by Iodine-131,
Or on the millions of clouds forewarned of residue,
Making billions of tonnes of food squandered away,
And shipped off to the third-world for half a penny,
One could write something yet remain a dummy.

The odyssey of Strontium-90 is a melancholic tale,
Of an unknown unknown making itself heard,
As it surged through the food chains and rivers,
Into the bowels of civilization caught unawares,
And as it bellowed out loud CANCER and DEATH,
Amidst pronouncements to renounce milk and sugar,
By officials who had endangered all of life itself,
The Earth still spun on its axis - still blue and pale.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

Maud

In the only apartment on the thirteenth floor,
An old lady sits alone by the windowsill,
On a wheelchair scented with Betadine,
Brimful of cold Darjeeling tea within reach,
Her eyes gazing into the setting Sun,
Glimmering with the hope of Armageddon.

In this place called home where she's lived,
For years and years on telephones and letters,
Postcards and diaries and wet handkerchiefs.
A Paddington Bear bedsheet in the guest-room,
Once a gift for the children of her children,
Holds a haggard Bible in hardbound leather.

Who is to blame for the follies of her life?
The Devil himself who toils day and night?
Ignoble ecstasy and lustful pleasure in disguise?
Or is it the mores of the multitude that are afoul,
When a lone woman seeks to be released in vain,
From prisons of past and burdens of pain.

An eerie quiet breathes down the Turkish rug,
Except when cutlery clatters in the kitchen,
Or water drips from the leaking faucet.
With a clock that ticks for no one at home,
And a heart that drudges for none but her,
She closes her eyes to imagine the Rapture.

How the heavens will split right in two,
As the good Lord descends right on Earth,
With angels and minions to right the sins,
Of the family whose hate still lingers,
In the lacerated veins of wrinkled wrists,
Of a woman who dies in silence and tears.

Black Mountain Bird

I'm often an unenthusiastic witness, 

Lying on plush cotton bed linens,

Asleep, and unknown to those outside,

In the deep black of the humid night,

To the puzzling images of a familiar life,

Stories that I know were never mine.

As the little hero of these fictions,

Prancing about in joyous delight,

Handshakes with those who matter,

Plaudits and bravo in timely manner,

Groping breasts as I massage her head,

In reels of film I dread when I'm awake.

Who writes these terrible screenplays,

Twisting life with myths and fantasies,

Surreal dialogues delivered in epitaphs,

In settings comical even when asleep,

Not to mention the absurdity of it all,

I desire to understand the nonsensical.

So I'm taken to the den of the Shaolin,

A young man who studies the monks,

By the whiff of destiny and a flight,

Throughout the day and into the night,

We talked about the halls of our past,

Our struggles living in artificial glass. 

The very next night I was running naked,

On hilltops and white sands in euphoria,

Until I reached a pipe fountain where,

A bird that frightened me in the past stood,

Only to fly away into the sunny blue sky,

To let the pure water awash me clean.

Is militant atheism just another form of religious extremism?

No weakness of the human mind has more frequently encountered derision and condescension than the negligence of Reason. From scientists and philosophers to satirists and moralists, the high priests of our civilization have long asserted that Reason is the sword that is to wielded against the spectre of all that is false and evil. What endows this faculty of the mind with a particularly unique and invigorating power is, they contend, its propensity to unravel truth. Furthermore, like a farmer who tends to his orchard in order to secure a bountiful harvest, we are led to believe that cultivating Reason and attuning our world-view to its command will enable us to advance the possibility of a better existence. At the very least, they suggest that the human spirit would be enlivened by the pursuit of truth and emboldened to undertake the journey of life without resorting to comforting fairy tales. Indeed, as Francisco Goya conveyed through his most famous painting, lest we fail in our duty as the logical and empirical architects of our minds, the sleep of reason will produce monsters.

     Samuel Johnson once contended that "the great differences that disturb the peace of mankind are not about ends, but means". Yet ardent advocates of Reason would beg to differ, for they lay claim to grievance on account of both ends and means. For one, they contend that there is no greater monstrosity among the people of the Earth than that of the belief in God. Moreover, they abhor the various means by which much of humanity translates such beliefs into practice, faith and ritual being primary. These individuals, who patronize or even despise believers, take it as their central tenet that religion is the root of all evil, and that irrationality poisons everything. In their naivety, they presume that purging society of religious and irrational artifacts would pave way for an improved world. 

     Now, to a curious mind tempered by skepticism, such assertions appear problematic for the simple reason that they are dogmatic. Furthermore, the facts these charlatans have marshaled to support their claims have been cherry-picked from the annals of history. A seeker of truth would certainly appreciate criticisms when they are meted out with balance and humility but when claims of a fundamentalist nature are unashamedly paraded around under the placard of 'militant atheism', one is, out of a sense of duty, called upon to expose such kinds of extremism.

     It is useful to first examine the most fundamental aspect of militant atheism - an extreme if not an absolute lack of belief in God. Although there have been doubts expressed against the existence of a divine entity since time immemorial, they have been generally voiced with modesty. For instance, the ancient Indic text of Rig Veda (10. 129) has the following verse -

Who verily knows and who can here declare it, whence it was born and whence comes this creation? The Gods are later than this world's production. Who knows then whence it first came into being? He, the first origin of this creation, whether he formed it all or did not form it, Whose eye controls this world in highest heaven, he verily knows it, or perhaps he knows not.

Such thoughts expressed in hesitation points to a mind that is free of the clutches of dogma. Perhaps the most appropriate and sophisticated manner by which one can handle the riddle of existence is to simply shy away from taking up a particular position, whether it be that of an atheist, an agnostic or a believer. Indeed, "Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent", and in matters where the train of logic leads to both discovery and nothingness, and the subsequent sentiments that pervade the being are both profound and absurd, one must simply comply with Wittgenstein's timeless dictum. But the foot soldiers of Reason, deluded by the faith that the universe will one day reveal itself, continue to wage war against the very abstraction that keep the multitude from collapsing as a result of cognitive dissonance or even worse, incurable ignorance. In other words, militant atheism makes the mistake of glorifying unbelief and crowning Reason in a universe that is, at least given the limitations of the human cognition, an irrational wilderness.

     Another characteristic that defines militant atheism is the aspiration to disseminate its unbelief in a myriad of ways onto the domains of both public and private life. For instance, ardent atheists desire the dismantlement of theology departments even though these places of inquiry have been the raison d'etre for many universities. Those of a slightly milder disposition however would share the sentiment that despite being antithetical to ideals of scientific truth and inquiry, these institutions nevertheless prepare individuals who will undertake the task of providing religious services to the community; services that are indispensable in the eyes of many. 

     Other examples are abound of militant atheists seeking to remove traces of religion from society on the grounds that they are false and irrational without paying enough heed to the way in which such beliefs foster a feeling of community, give people a sense of purpose or offer them consolation at the time of distress. For example, a grieving mother of a dying child would be consoled by the belief that she will be united with her son's soul in heaven after her own death. Indeed, despite the implausibility of such a belief on the grounds of the dubious existence of an afterlife, it could be argued that this very belief could be rational if it helps a sentient being cope well with the many vicissitudes and griefs of life; sentient beings who are especially poor, lack access to both means and time to engage in metaphysical speculation, and are disadvantaged in almost every way except for the strength they receive from their faith to walk onward in life. So, according to this line of thought, militant atheism is extremist since it seeks to enforce its own standards of excellence, namely truth and rationality, upon the many spheres of public and private life, without recognizing the multifarious nature and needs of humanity.

     Now, the declamatory vehemence with which militant atheism has been disrobed of its pretensions and vanity thus far is in no way an attempt to equate it to religious extremism. Indeed, among the causes of the many terrible massacres and tragedies of human history, religious extremism dwarfs its distant and more civilized relative with considerable ease. Save for certain episodes of the French Revolution and some rare occurrences in history, it is difficult to establish a direct causal relation between atheist extremism and some form of humanitarian tragedy and suffering. Uncritical apologists for religion may argue that the great massacres of the twentieth-century were committed by atheists such as Stalin and Mao but as mentioned before, it is difficult to ascertain whether their atheism was instrumental in deciding their regressive actions and policies. For the most part, some other grand, overarching ideology such as Marxism took place of their irreligion and godlessness in creating conditions conducive for mass killings and destruction. Certainly, it is difficult to find instances in history when a leader has gone on to claim that their atheism induced them to systematically exterminate a certain subset of the population whereas one can find references to religion that prompted and still prompts many to undertake arms and commit crimes unspeakable.

     Most importantly, the conduct of militant atheists in the modern day, despite being brash, aggressive, unsophisticated, dogmatic, offensive and obtuse, is never violent. Militant atheism's leading luminaries are mostly science professors, literary provocateurs and cultural giants and it is difficult to conceive them commanding their followers to employ intimidation and violence to impose their godlessness and lack of faith on society. In other words, even though religion is not the root of all evil, it has certainly exercised its inherent evilness since time immemorial, and God, if he were so desirous to increase the occupancy of hell, would instantly choose religious extremists over militant atheists.

[Qn. 28, General Paper I, Examination Fellowship, September 2011, All Souls College]

Conversations (With and On)

Schopenhauer
 Misery
Buñuel
 Hypocrisy
Leopardi
 Lonely
Nietzsche
 Futility
Newton
 Discovery
Shelley
 Sanctity
Rousseau
 Authenticity
Machiavelli
 Expediency
Gramsci
 Hegemony
Burke
 Continuity
Chomsky
 Duty
Postman
 Clarity
Berlin
 Liberty
Smith
 Morality
Truth
 Poetry