As time passes by and one gets older, it seems right that memories become a burden. Its great that nature dulls the sharpness of some poignant thoughts of events and people.
One looks back with surprise - was I that dumb? How could I have said such and such or done this or that? Was that really me?
I read a science fiction story once that talked about the conquest of death and the accompanying agony of those who wanted to be rid of too many memories, good or bad. The fear of passing on then perhaps went away. We shall move from one reality to another and never know the difference. The observance of cruelty, of a certain God who keeps desperate hopes alive but looks away at the suffering and pain of the innocent - a message garbled by philosophical rubbish, designed to keep us sane - yes, this is not a reality I am interested in. To that extent, I am happy when time accelerates and the pain of the innocent stops. But the cries of their agony will last beyond time.
I wrote a book many years ago on the survival of the animal kingdom and our own eradication as a punishment for centuries of depravity. The logic of suffering of the mute escapes me entirely. But we are superior, we are told, and have the right to erase and inflict.
2 comments:
In Moha Mudgara, popularly known as Bhaja Govindham, Adhi Sankara says:
During infancy, we are addicted to play; when in adoloscence and later manhood, we are addicted to all kinds of desires; when we become ripe old we are neck deep in all sorts of worries; Adhi Sankara asks: when are we going to think of Govinda ?
Verily, it is the " worries " that makes life sick and not worth living any more.
Whether one can rid of one's worries?
the only way appears to be: think of govinda ! think of Govinda !
Suryanarayanan
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Thank you for your kind observations.
Regards
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