Weary a bit now, wondering where Mahadeb might be, or might not; and even why he is happy to remain gone. Without notice. Without a forwarding address. Without news of when he will return, if at all. A bit like AchchheDin, if you will. It gets mentioned all the time but never seems to be at hand. Weary now of expecting and nothing coming off it but more expectation. The promise of them, and the utter refusal of their fulfilment. And the absolute lack or absence of any explanation over why what was promised is not here. AchchheDin. Mahadeb. They were pledged to us. They turned out to be empty pledges, walked over, betrayed. Nothing happened. Happens. Happens all the time and all too often that nothing actually happens. If you know enough of life, you will know that happens. The promising, and the unthinking violation of it. As if nothing happened. As if it were your fault you believed a promise. But it was, wasn’t it? Who asked you to? You utter fool, you believing fool.
But you can’t decide, can you, whether you should have believed in the first place or should not have. We all get there once in every while, or more often, on the horns of that beast called Dilemma. The one pictured below. It wades among us all the time; we clamber on all the time, onto Dilemma, astride its horns, not knowing which one to choose. Should we do this or that? Should we say this or that? Should we go here or there? Or should we not go at all? Wonder if being astride Dilemma is a good thing or a bad thing. That itself is a dilemma, is it not? Or should we dismount the beast and go ahead and do something?
Some folks can do that. They don’t waste away time wondering. When BlondieDuck thinks he needs to quack and croak obdurately around his brood and take flight and drop shit on TinTin TrueDough and BangelaCartel and all the rest of them from above, he just does. And flies off 9,000 miles, all in one flap of his super power wings, for an assignation with that DimJangHun, himself the recipient of earlier and many rounds of pestilential droppings by BlondieDuck.
When the BossOfAllThings wants to banish currency, because he wouldn’t put up with the denominations and colours of others and wants them after his own whim, he calls his minions in the broadcast department, gets onto TV and announces banishment forthwith. Kar lo jo karna hai. Or when Shriman PoltuPokherjee wants to go commune with the SS band that begins with an R, propitiate their dubious deities and treat himself to their spectacularly ramshackle militarism, he just does. Irrespective. Uncaring of alarmed entreaty not to do so. Unbothered by what consequences he might bring upon himself and the company he spent his entire working life in. Jaabo! He pronounced, and then proceeded.
But then you might want to wonder whether to have a dilemma or none at all. How about getting locked on a dilemma over Dilemma? Only fair, isn’t it? To think over and wonder and measure the pros and the cons of doing this or doing that? To take time and muse and ponder whether this is right or that is right, or none of the two is and a third or a fourth thing is right? What’s the ability to be able to think or to wonder there for, after all? Those two horns you see in the picture, they are not vestigial, they have uses. They are there to tear and plough and scratch and bore. They are also there to ride on. They are the thing of Dilemma. You ride one horn, and you wonder if riding the other is better. Then you ride the other and wonder if riding this other is better or riding the previous one. It’s how we progress, through dialectics; history never travelled a straight line, remember, it meandered and meandered and therefore here we are.
These above-mentioned entities, and the way they unthinkingly bulled into whatever it is they did, were they right to do so? Could they have ridden Dilemma a while, just from one horn to the other, and thought and wondered about what they were about to do? Doing the right thing and doing that thing right, is the thing. And it takes time.
If you are to right manners born
Please appreciate to be torn
Believe me it’s nothing to scorn
Learn to ride one, then the other horn.