The Philosophy of Cows and Cowards

Nobody passes out of school without doing a 'The Cow' essay before the 6th grade. I don't remember what was there in it ( though I can guess ), but I do remember what I thought of it.

I am a pure non-vegetarian. And I love beef. Not that I do not respect cows; I do. Like all dutiful Indians, I respect and worship the usefulness of the placid and pleasant animal. But my liking for the animal is objective and has nothing to do with religion. Therefore, I like and respect the cow most when it's on one of 3 things: the menu, the dining table or my plate. When I told my sister this, her first reaction was to refer to the animal as "poor thing". Precisement. It is because the cow is such a "poor thing", offering little or no resistance at any point of time to anything at all, that we butcher it for a host of reasons. Even worse, we keep it just about barely alive to do our menial work. As a child I believed that if it were a wild, fervent and unpredictable animal and if it could not be domesticated, then this sacred animal would not be made to live a life of infra dignitatem. So, I came to the conclusion that it was asking for it, almost inviting it and therefore deserved it.

The point being, if you're afraid to stand up for yourself, I'm afraid, you can't blame anyone for standing on top of you. After all, why live if you have to live in fear. That is, I think, how I came to hate cowards and cowardice. I think they should be butchered like cattle.

After the usual series of unfortunate and quite boring events at a party, I ended up next to a man who was intent on making conversation. Awaking the martyr in me, I proceeded, with Christ-like benevolence, to be subject to the cruelty of ( the ) man and save the other guests. I decided to listen. I'm not sure if I dreamt it, but, somewhere in his monologue, this wonder-of-god made a statement that left a look of sovereign contempt on my face. He said something to the effect of not knowing the meaning of fear. There was apparently nothing in the world that the mighty gentleman was scared of. A man cannot be fearless. Everyone has their insecurities. The mightier, the more insecure. A fearless man cannot be one without fear, it can only be one with the fear of fear. The man who cannot accept the presence of fear and insecurity in his psyche is the greatest coward of them all. Meet the fearless coward.

Sometime back, before it struck anyone else, I considered the possibility of being a coward myself. How I came about it is a long story. In short, it came with the realization that I was turning to philosophy too soon, too often. And philosophy can be a slime. There is a philosophy for every right and every wrong and everything else in between. So, no matter what the situation, there will be a philosophy to back you up; you can count on that. In the words of Camus, "Those who lack the courage, will always find a philosophy to justify it". Most of the time, people take shelter under philosophy because they are scared of being wrong. Having a philosophy to back you up increases the credibility of your opinion and your statement. Hardly anybody just states their opinion and leaves it at that; it always has to be backed up by something some "known" person said in some vague context, centuries ago. The older the saying, the more credibility it lends. Popular 'back-up' people include the father of the nation, Lincoln, Ayn Rand, so on and so forth. Therefore, for most, a quick scurry for philosophy is driven not by wisdom or deep-rooted opinions but it is driven by fear. And it is because I scurry for philosophy too soon, too often, that I fear, I might.....fear.

An incident surfaces in my memory now. It was a conversation, supposed to be a war of words, between two of my very hard working friends. The winter was at it's peak and the sun was just about to rise. The winter's peak wasn't high enough for my friend; he was far higher than that. He had just spent the entire night working his way up. The other guy had spent the entire night working his way up too, a pile of books, that is. So, when I see that a conversation is about to take place, I say my "Hi" and step aside to watch the fun. The encyclopoedia, in one of his rare moments of speech, says to my rather disinterested friend, "God. Have you been.....you know...??"
"YYYuupp....Verrry much....Verrry nice.", he manages to say and proceeds to give him a liberal dose of his breath in order to prove his proud status. Not that it needed any proving.
"Don't you have any sense of responsibility. You are so talented. Why can't you work hard and do something in life?"
I always tell people not to get sentimental when drunk or get a drunk guy sentimental. It's unmanageable. Anyways, so this statement on his productivity he takes as an attack on his manhood.
"What do you mean work hard? I work hard too. You put a night out and I put a night out. You stretch yourself to the limit and I stretch myself to the limit. In the end, they'll end up paying you for your hard work and killing me for mine. So, I will go to the same place where you will go, only a few decades earlier. So, in the lives that we lead at the moment, I am ahead of you. Therefore, who is better off comes down to a difference in opinion and a question of philosophy. So please, keep moving."
The guy decides to take his advice and I proceed to take him to his room and put him to sleep.
On the way back, I say to him, "Fundu guy. Where'd you pick that line of thought?"
"Common sense, machan. I have too much of it."
"Common sense, my friend, is the most equally distributed thing in the world. Nobody thinks they need any more of it than they already have."
"Hmmm...Karl Marx."
"Damn."
"Nice try."
After putting him to sleep, I went into further thought. What he said back then was bullshit, I know it, he knows it. But can you argue with that line of thought?? No, because, as he rightly said, it is a question of philosophy. And there is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is death. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. Man is but just another animal on just another planet. Take man away from the equation and there is no difference. In fact, everything else on the planet is better off without us. When the importance of the existence of man itself is doubtful and arguable; what about the importance of one life?
"I know why you are here. Shoot, Coward. You are only going to kill a man." Forever Guevara.

Philosophy is for the self and therefore as unique as the individual. Being taught philosophy in a classroom will not help, neither will teaching, preaching, reading or discussing it. The problem these days is that there are too many teachers of philosophy and therefore, hardly any philosophers. Your philosophy is for you to nurture and savour. A person's philosophy is for him and him alone. Never try to associate with another person's philosophy, for your understanding of it will be miles from his. Philosophy provides neither shelter nor direction. Philosophy does not give you an understanding of the world . Your understanding of the world constitutes your philosophy.

Bears and scares

A beard is a nice fluid asset to have. It can make one look shabby or dignified; primitive or super-cool. It gives shelter to those pearly pimples or scary scars and acts as a canopy for pallid skin. So, I’ve decided to grow my beard. And I’m quite happy about it. Not that it makes me look any better; in fact, the ladies have been quite fierce in convincing me otherwise. But they don’t understand. It’s not about looking better or worse, it’s just about looking different. Now I know I’m growing old; I tire easily. I’m tired of looking into the same face every morning. It really scares me. You see, if I can’t put up with my own face for a prolonged period of time, how am I going to get married? [Relationships are ok; you can take your breaks after all] And I can’t ask my wife to grow a beard, can I?....No.....Good lord. Definitely no!! That doesn’t worry me too much; there’s time and I’m confident I can work something out.

Of course, facial hair does have its disadvantages. If shaped well with creativity and care, it is possible that the person might look a lot better; there’s hope. There may be a few minor exceptions to the rule. On women for example, somehow, I don’t think there’s much hope, unless of course the design is simply ingenious and her face exudes tremendous creativity. It might help if such a woman is seen at the circus. One, I’m sure, will be able to appreciate the art a lot better then.

I’m a jittery sort of person, never calm or composed, and very uncomfortable in the presence of women. Small things and passing thoughts frighten me effortlessly. I’m scared now; I just happened to grab on to one of those stray lines of thought and now I’m off track and stuck in parlous waters. How do you know if your girl isn’t one of those hirsute characters and lusus naturae, before it’s too late to get out of the bed, out of the house and out of the goddamned country? We men are at least more open about things. We don’t pull them out at their roots so that it doesn’t leave a trace. And if we shave, we don’t mind talking about it. It’s never bad manners to ask a man if he removed his facial hair. And hey, we don’t get embarrassed. You know how it is. On the wedding day, clear, resplendent skin; one week later, you’re in the Amazon.

Never mind. So, the other day, my friend and I saw this girl.
And he says, “Hey! Check that out. Good looking eh?”
I maintain this dark, contemplative silence.
“Why doctor? Do you not concur?”
“She looks good.”
“So you agree. She’s good looking.”
What do I say. “Yeah…whatever.” Some people just don’t understand subtle concepts. Yup. She can kill with a smile and wound with her eyes and all that, but it does not mean she’s good looking. The charm that second glances held for me earlier has become hoary. I sprain my neck almost every other day taking second glances. A woman who looks good merits a second glance and I see such women many times a day, every day. So, in those exiguous times when I actually realize that the woman not only looks good but she’s also good looking, I am inclined to be stuck in that second glance for an extended period of time. This remains so, until a benevolent passer-by wakes me up, helps me pick up my jaw from the ground and puts it back in place.

It’s a pity there aren’t too many of those women around. One cannot escape observing oneself. If someone is looking at you, then you obviously have to observe yourself; and if no one is observing you, then you have to observe yourself even more. Kafka said something along the same lines but in a rather different context. Sometime back, I asked a looking-good person I knew, why does everyone want to look good? “To feel good about themselves, of course”, she says. Then I wonder, why is it that they want to feel good about themselves only in public? At home, anything and everything that fits or doesn’t fit goes. So then I’m told that it is a confidence building measure. One, somehow, feels a lot more confident about oneself if they’re dressed well and neat. Oops! I’m corrected again. It’s not just about dressing well or dressing neatly; it’s also about looking attractive or looking sexy. Ah! Comprendo. So, now I understand that one dresses not just to feel good about themselves but also to make other people feel other things by looking at them. Being attractive means being able to draw others towards oneself. Therefore, when the goal is to be attractive, it is to………So, when I meet a person who’s taken a lot of effort in looking good, I make it point to tell them “Hey. You’re looking good today.” It’s considered one of the best compliments a person can receive.

That’s when I go into one of those vague thinking moods. So, they’re looking good today. But, what about tomorrow? I just gave a compliment and God knows I meant it. But does God know who I just complimented? Definitely not the person. The appearance? Probably. The choice of palliament? Possibly. The apparel and it’s accessories? Definitely. And therefore, I could never understand how the compliment could be taken personally.

I’m definitely going to grow a beard. It doesn’t matter if I don’t look good with it. Hell, it doesn’t matter if women can’t stand it. I’m not going to let my confidence hang on for dear life to my appearance. I’m not going to change my looks to suit every one else’s likes. I don’t want and I undoubtedly don’t have the need to attract.

[ Weekend’s coming up. Hmmm……must look pleasing. ]