one must vindicate the Truth not by infliction of sufferings on the opponent, but on one's self.
"vinasha kale, viparita buddhi," -whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad.
This is now the classic picture of India, is it not, and French cinematographers take time off from filming the unclad forms of their women in order to focus with loving pity on the unclad forms of our childrens.
Indulge an old man's rage, Ganapathi, and write this down: the British killed the Indian artisan, they created the Indian 'landless labourer', they exported our full employement and they invented our poverty.
There is something particularly soul-destroying about urban squalor: in a city-slum Nature provides no soothing contrast to offset the man-made horror. In those narrow airless alleys it is impossible to escape from the pervasive wrechtedness.
But Fate has a habit of intervening at just the right moment to resolve these crises, to drop an apple on a sleeping head, to turn an aimless drift into surging tide. Great discoveries, Ganapathi are often the result of making the wrong mistake at the right time. Ask Columbus.
Where a Western woman misses a meal in the interest of her figure, her Indian sister dedicates her starvation to a cause, usually a male one.( Her husband or son, of course never responds in kind: he manifests his appreciation of her sacrifice by enjoying a larger helping of her cooking).
All we are left with is the drama without ths sacrifice - and isn't that a metaphor for Indian politics today.
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