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The Ashwatthama Syndrome
This is a generation of heroes. No, maybe not those universally acknowledged as one but then self-appraisal is not just about a raise or a promotion at work. It is almost a right taken for granted with life these days. There are more who think of themselves as heroes today than their comic-book counterparts lapped up by kids and adults alike over the past decades. And yet few even know what being a hero is about except for the notion of one being a ‘know it all’ and ‘does it all’ omnipresent and reluctant celebrity. Of course the ‘know it all’ part is the easiest to emulate and claim possession of, especially in that ‘virtual’ life. And with the mask and suit equivalent of anonymity provided by the internet, the modern day hero has the world for his playground. The keyboard and that mouse open doors with impunity and the opposers are stuck down by the powers of the meaningfully pre-arranged plastic alphabet. Topping it all, our hero takes it upon himself to correct the prevalent follies with a vengeance. Our smug, aggressive and self-possessed crusader is out to correct the errors of the ordinary. And all the better when he carries a chip on his shoulder.
The rules of riding for example are based not on physics but on their democratic credentials – such and such a number of people in the world (on facebook, forums or maybe a magazine or two – after all where else does the world exist?) agree with what someone says and so it becomes gospel truth – to be defended by our anonymous hero irrespective of the collateral damage. What one does with a motorcycle is irrelevant to what one can claim to. Claiming to have watched a movie 5 times instead of the actual ‘once’ is never a problem – the story doesn’t change huh! So the kilometers get multiplied by factors of grandeur, the experiences more vivid, all blood and gore about victory over traffic/weather/breakdowns/human limits. The hero steps in to check with his enquiring stabs. Does the story bleed blood or lies? Of course both look the same to most and so can be named to convenience by our hero. He needs those numbers backing him, the affirmation counters ticking and the gathered sheep nodding. He may be self appointed but it is they who provide the substantiation.
He, like Ashwatthama of the yore, is a hero gone wrong. Ashwatthama’s actions were fuelled by memories of humiliation and insults perpetrated upon his father Drona. He could not forgive the Pandavas for having killed Drona through spreading lies when Yudhisthir, the truthful one, announces the death of Ashwatthama without clarifying that it is Ashwatthama the elephant and not Drona’s son who has died. The broken father can no longer fight and so dies at the hands of Dristhadyumna. Ashwatthama burns with vengeance, in denial of the fact the Drona had connived and sided with debauched Duryodhana, the Kuru prince. Possessed by anger, he abandons the path of right action and is reduced to a picture of bestiality. His personal values trample over true righteousness as he revels in the power of destruction while forgetting to evaluate the real need to do so. He attacks the Pandava camp at night on seeing an owl swoop down on sleeping crows and when confronted by the Pandavas later, diverts the Brahmaastra he had unleashed at them towards Uttara’s womb killing Abhimanyu’s unborn son Parikshit. He denounces ethical judgment in favor of personal vendetta bolstered by technical superiority, uses his skills and weapons to destroy on impulse instead of the considered action of fighting injustice. And he gets cursed by Krishna for his sins to an undying life of isolation and suffering.
Our modern day hero has a similar misplaced ideology even though the reasons for vendetta might not be as persuasive as they were for Ashwatthama. He responds to an ideology where excellence is measured by peerage independent of verifiable facts. He is more concerned about the horse than the ‘horseness’ that makes a horse one. He just HAS to be right. He shoots from the hip because he is unable to realize and look beyond the bias of his own mind and thought. His power attracts those that either use him or fear him. And possessed as he is, he indiscriminately counts them collectively as numbers, the sheep. He grows in his own sights, gloating on his power and ability till he fires a weapon that creates a situation worse than what he set out to purportedly fix. His kingdom collapses as the numbers abandon ship when democracy points the other way from him. The hero, a venerated outcast becomes a denigrated one. You come across these modern day pariah’s clawing for recognition that they once believed was their right but no longer is. He knows that the queue to heroism is long and the ‘numbers’ are picking out the ‘heroes’ at random for a fresh meal while dropping the chewed up bones of the erstwhile in those dog cans. And a recast doesn’t happen.
There is no substitute to knowledge with humility when it comes to human interaction. The slashing cutlass can only kill so much. When what exists is far beyond the countable, a mere shift in perception is enough to bring the obvious into sight. Change is incessant and so it must be with our understanding of the world around us. No single measure stands scrutiny of reality. The need to be flexible is not just called for but decides the chances of credible survival. And only the humble can be flexible. Don’t be a hero when no one needs one. Don’t be a hero when not being one demands the highest form of heroism. When being perceived as ordinary is way better than being a hero struck by the Ashwatthama syndrome of mental myopia. The ‘brother’ in brotherhood is neither a mere symbol nor a misnomer. It is the essence of the binding force of togetherness. Verticals have no rightful place in the world of sharing. Ride, learn and share.
This is a generation of heroes. No, maybe not those universally acknowledged as one but then self-appraisal is not just about a raise or a promotion at work. It is almost a right taken for granted with life these days. There are more who think of themselves as heroes today than their comic-book counterparts lapped up by kids and adults alike over the past decades. And yet few even know what being a hero is about except for the notion of one being a ‘know it all’ and ‘does it all’ omnipresent and reluctant celebrity. Of course the ‘know it all’ part is the easiest to emulate and claim possession of, especially in that ‘virtual’ life. And with the mask and suit equivalent of anonymity provided by the internet, the modern day hero has the world for his playground. The keyboard and that mouse open doors with impunity and the opposers are stuck down by the powers of the meaningfully pre-arranged plastic alphabet. Topping it all, our hero takes it upon himself to correct the prevalent follies with a vengeance. Our smug, aggressive and self-possessed crusader is out to correct the errors of the ordinary. And all the better when he carries a chip on his shoulder.
The rules of riding for example are based not on physics but on their democratic credentials – such and such a number of people in the world (on facebook, forums or maybe a magazine or two – after all where else does the world exist?) agree with what someone says and so it becomes gospel truth – to be defended by our anonymous hero irrespective of the collateral damage. What one does with a motorcycle is irrelevant to what one can claim to. Claiming to have watched a movie 5 times instead of the actual ‘once’ is never a problem – the story doesn’t change huh! So the kilometers get multiplied by factors of grandeur, the experiences more vivid, all blood and gore about victory over traffic/weather/breakdowns/human limits. The hero steps in to check with his enquiring stabs. Does the story bleed blood or lies? Of course both look the same to most and so can be named to convenience by our hero. He needs those numbers backing him, the affirmation counters ticking and the gathered sheep nodding. He may be self appointed but it is they who provide the substantiation.
He, like Ashwatthama of the yore, is a hero gone wrong. Ashwatthama’s actions were fuelled by memories of humiliation and insults perpetrated upon his father Drona. He could not forgive the Pandavas for having killed Drona through spreading lies when Yudhisthir, the truthful one, announces the death of Ashwatthama without clarifying that it is Ashwatthama the elephant and not Drona’s son who has died. The broken father can no longer fight and so dies at the hands of Dristhadyumna. Ashwatthama burns with vengeance, in denial of the fact the Drona had connived and sided with debauched Duryodhana, the Kuru prince. Possessed by anger, he abandons the path of right action and is reduced to a picture of bestiality. His personal values trample over true righteousness as he revels in the power of destruction while forgetting to evaluate the real need to do so. He attacks the Pandava camp at night on seeing an owl swoop down on sleeping crows and when confronted by the Pandavas later, diverts the Brahmaastra he had unleashed at them towards Uttara’s womb killing Abhimanyu’s unborn son Parikshit. He denounces ethical judgment in favor of personal vendetta bolstered by technical superiority, uses his skills and weapons to destroy on impulse instead of the considered action of fighting injustice. And he gets cursed by Krishna for his sins to an undying life of isolation and suffering.
Our modern day hero has a similar misplaced ideology even though the reasons for vendetta might not be as persuasive as they were for Ashwatthama. He responds to an ideology where excellence is measured by peerage independent of verifiable facts. He is more concerned about the horse than the ‘horseness’ that makes a horse one. He just HAS to be right. He shoots from the hip because he is unable to realize and look beyond the bias of his own mind and thought. His power attracts those that either use him or fear him. And possessed as he is, he indiscriminately counts them collectively as numbers, the sheep. He grows in his own sights, gloating on his power and ability till he fires a weapon that creates a situation worse than what he set out to purportedly fix. His kingdom collapses as the numbers abandon ship when democracy points the other way from him. The hero, a venerated outcast becomes a denigrated one. You come across these modern day pariah’s clawing for recognition that they once believed was their right but no longer is. He knows that the queue to heroism is long and the ‘numbers’ are picking out the ‘heroes’ at random for a fresh meal while dropping the chewed up bones of the erstwhile in those dog cans. And a recast doesn’t happen.
There is no substitute to knowledge with humility when it comes to human interaction. The slashing cutlass can only kill so much. When what exists is far beyond the countable, a mere shift in perception is enough to bring the obvious into sight. Change is incessant and so it must be with our understanding of the world around us. No single measure stands scrutiny of reality. The need to be flexible is not just called for but decides the chances of credible survival. And only the humble can be flexible. Don’t be a hero when no one needs one. Don’t be a hero when not being one demands the highest form of heroism. When being perceived as ordinary is way better than being a hero struck by the Ashwatthama syndrome of mental myopia. The ‘brother’ in brotherhood is neither a mere symbol nor a misnomer. It is the essence of the binding force of togetherness. Verticals have no rightful place in the world of sharing. Ride, learn and share.
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