Irony

A packet of chips, relaxed on a couch, chit-chatting with a friend, relishing a sandwich, eyes staring at the screen.. Perfect movie mood.. Red wine adding to the ambience.. And that toast of red wine is the irony.. Irony, because the day is: Martyr’s day, and the movie to which we raise our toast is: Gandhi (by Richard Attenborough).. The person, who never even allowed the smell of wine close by.. The person who led his life on principles, experimenting every bit of it.. Drawing closely upon his experiences, the picture of reality! Attracted by the worldly possessions, but judiciously thinking over them, to arrive to the decision of ultimate abdication; not to be a hero of ‘tyaaga’ or sacrifice, but to live up to what his life had proven to him. I find this itself an irony.. A life that is gifted to us once, says the same Indian mythology, the one that claims you give it up.. And, here was this man, who lived this irony in perfect sense, and proved, it was not a myth, but a realm of puritan existence!

Was he flawless? Was he gifted? Didn’t he have dilemmas? How did he live through? OR, as Einstein put it for my generation: Did he ever exist?

I am at split ends.. It is a question I need to answer for myself.. In the state of despair, in his words: “When I despair, I remember, that all through the history, the way of truth and love has always won..”