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Hans India
5 days ago
- Politics
- Hans India
Vyasa's wail and India's cry in the moral abyss
Among the many Rishis of ancient India, the one that stands out is Rishi Krishna Dwaipayana, more popularly known as Veda Vyasa. He was not only revered as an 'amsa' of Lord Vishnu, but he was also the author of several scriptures and the ithihasa of Mahabharata. Towards the close of that epic, he did something uncommon for any author: he shed the robes of a neutral litterateur, and donned those of an activist advocator and ardently addressed the world at large: 'On bended knees I beg, but no one listens to me; when men can get all they want—the four purusharthas: dharma (righteous life), artha (material wealth), kama (worldly wants) and moksha (samsaric-liberation)—by treading the path of dharma, why do they do adharma?' Dharma was given the pride of place; the other three were meant to be attained by being 'dharmabadh'. Dharma was of such sublime spiritual sui generis genre of thought that an ancient Sanskrit text, the Hitopadesa, says, 'Dharma alone is specific to humans; without dharma, they are equal to animals'. Vyasa probably took such an unusual step because he wanted to warn future generations not to repeat that which had brought about that horrific Kurukshetra yuddha—the inability of great men like Bhisma, Drona and Karna to make the right dharmic choice by putting the self ahead of society. Bhisma had decided that being faithful to his solemn vows was worth even fighting on the side of adharma; in the case of Drona, it was the sin of ingratitude to the Kauravas; for Karna, it was the principle of mitra-dharma. Whether Vyasa intended to address his contemporaries or posterity, his passionate plea rings loud and clear in our society today. The tentacles of adharma reach everywhere: governance, policy-making, politics, personal priority-setting, self-indulgence, social injustice, economic inequity, pervasive corruption, ethical atrophy... We are indulging in what Lord Krishna (in the Bhagavad-Gita, 16.9) called 'horrible works meant to destroy the world', a result of our acquiring what He described as 'demonic nature'. Fanaticism has become fashionable, and assimilation has replaced accommodation in our mindset. Put in terms of the Katha Upanishad, we are treading the path of preyas (pleasure; sensual gratification) and not the path of shreyas (long-term goodness; spiritual growth). Preyas has taken the form of ruthless pursuit of pleasure, power and profit, convenience, comfort and control. Those who still strive for shreyas are shunned as bad examples. Clever we think we are, we reason: there is no reason to struggle to be good if by doing bad we can get the best of both: the good of good and not the bad of bad. Everything is commodified and monetized, even spirituality. That has led to our embracing hedonistic materialism at the expense of dharmic values. We have not only harmed ourselves, but also nature, which is all around us. Dharmic living also entails a sense of responsibility that a person owes to the non-living, and to all sentient beings. So low is our moral bar that brazen billionaires and shady celebrities have become our role models. Mammon is god; greed is good, and integrity is a needless nuisance. Every day, in every sphere—business, politics, social work or sports— what shines as glitz and glamour, right and bright, hides a lot of libertinage and sleaze. We hate to admit it, but we do get a kick out of it. It is important to remember that the ambit of dharma is more spiritual than 'secular' morality. While 'moral behavior' generally refers to acting according to one's personal sense of right and wrong, fair and unfair, based on human reason, 'dharmic behavior' encompasses living in harmony with natural laws and the cosmic order. Arrogant anthropocentric behavior has gravely disturbed that 'harmony', turning man into a lethal geologic force, and shooting to be, to borrow the phrase from Yuval Noah Harari, Homo Deus (Man-God). It is at the heart of the current climate crisis. Injecting dharmic principles into daily human life is perhaps the only way to save the planet. What is baffling is that although this 'crisis' is expected to drastically depress the living standards of half of India's population and aggravate every social divide, it is not even a major issue in public discourse and policy-making. If nothing else, this tells us a lot of how much India has declined as a dharmic society. Conclusion As a people, we must squarely face up to the bitter truth that the Indian society does not show even a hidden hint that it was once a society whose very sinews were held together by the dharmic way, which was what enabled India to be a great civilization. Although the religion of which it was its very soul—Sanatana dharma, now known as Hinduism—is still by far the most dominant religion in today's India, dharma is off the radar of public consciousness. It is all the more mystifying because dharma was not the monopoly of Hinduism; it was a part of all other Indic religions. Be that all as it may, the primary impetus to redeem and revive dharma is not nostalgia but renewed relevance. That alone now can fill the bill. 'Secular morality', the other alternative, is limited to personal probity and can be influenced by subjective biases. Only by imbibing a broader moral and cosmic concept like dharma can we hope to acquire and facilitate moral catharsis, social reform and spiritual sensitivity. Modern life has become so slippery that the so-called social animal does not know how to harmonize personal fulfillment and social purpose. Only dharma can provide the answer because it is only in this esoteric thought individual life and cosmic life are deeply connected. To serve the purpose, it is necessary to reinterpret and realign what the Bhagavad-Gita (3:35) calls swadharma—'personalized' dharma that is innate and at the same time serve a common cause. In today's world, almost everything 'personal' is also 'inter-personal', which, in turn, generates dharmic dilemmas. Knowing the quintessence of dharmic duty at any time is like dancing on what the Katha Upanishad calls ksurasya dhārā, the razor's edge. Living with dharma can help us find a light when our sense of goodness gets severely tested. What should then be the fail-safe dharmic across-the-board test? The answer is to adopt, as a governing principle of our behavior, what Bhisma advised King Yudhishthira in the Mahabharata: 'Yasmin yathā vartate yo manusyas; tasmims tathā vartitavyam sa dharmah' (As a person behaves towards another, so should he be treated; that is dharma). Like karma, dharma too must be done for its own sake and regardless of how unrewarding it is. Towards this we should 'operationalize' the aphorism 'manava seva madhava seva'. Bhakti and seva should go hand in hand. Swadharma and samaja dharma must be coupled. That will not only sanctify whatever we selflessly do, but it will also socially leverage divine offering. That empowers individuals to fulfill their cosmic duty while also pursuing a path towards spiritual fulfillment. It must also be economical to the point. A dharmic-driven economic model will not only be egalitarian and in sync with nature, but it will also give a boost to empathetic economic growth that puts the needs of the most-needy foremost. That is the right way to make headway to meet its 'tryst with destiny'. India will then not only get rid of its moral ills and mental mediocrity, but also grow into a great nation, and be a beacon to a world that is dangerously roaming rudderless. Without a dharmic rebirth, even if everything else is in place, India will fall short of achieving any of its ambitions, economic or social, at home or abroad. And Vyasa's wail will continue to resonate as India's cry in the moral abyss. (The writer is a retired IAS officer)
Time of India
04-06-2025
- Business
- Time of India
The Weekly Vine Edition 45: DRONE-ACHARYA, Royal Challenge Completed, and Manufacturing Consent
Nirmalya Dutta's political and economic views vacillate from woke Leninist to Rand-Marxist to Keynesian-Friedmanite. He doesn't know what any of those terms mean. Hello and welcome to this week's edition of The Weekly Vine. In this week's edition, we look at Ukraine's Drone-acharya–inspired tactical move, celebrate Virat Kohli finally breaking his IPL duck, discuss the art of manufacturing consent, explain why Magnus Carlsen lost his cool against Gukesh, and finally take a look at Trump's 'mad philosopher'. DRONE-ACHARYA 2.0 In Keerthik Sasidharan's The Dharma Forest, a fabulously loquacious retelling of the Mahabharata, Drona tells Bhisma: 'It's only the grammar of violence that allows for the pretence that this is war for the sake of a civilisation. Without it, war would be just mass murder.' When Bhisma chides him for laughing about it, Drona replies: 'Grandfather, as a penniless Brahmin who built his own life thanks to arms, war and violence—and after a lifetime of doing this, I can only laugh at the world.' For those who missed out on the greatest story ever told, Drona – a true Master of War – was a penniless Brahmin who sought revenge by training the Kuru princes against an old friend who had belittled him. Over the years, the Master of War – one who hides in his mansion after building the death planes (to borrow a line from Bob Dylan) – has taken many avatars. The last was Barack Obama, whose deep baritone made you forget his drone-strike rate. And now we have the former stand-up comic who refuses to say, 'thank you.' The new Drone-Acharya in town is Volodymyr Zelenskyy. Reports – hopefully real and not another Ghost of Kyiv propaganda piece – claim that Ukraine launched an audacious drone attack involving 117 drones, each costing less than $500. These drones struck Russian war machines across five regions, spanning 6,000 kilometres and three time zones (or roughly the time it takes to get from Noida to Gurugram after 6 PM). In sheer breadth and depth, it even outdoes the audacious pager attack on Hezbollah launched by Israel's Mossad. This low-budget, independent assault didn't use any NATO weapons or Western intelligence. The drones were ostensibly launched from modified shipping containers, smuggled into Russia aboard civilian trucks, bypassing multi-billion-dollar air defence systems entirely. The attack was also carried out remotely – much like the Sovereign's fleet of drones in Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2 – with no Ukrainian personnel captured. What makes this a game changer is its replicability and scalability at minimal cost. It heralds the age of drones as the new instrument of warfare. As analysts like Mike Ryan argue, supremacy in modern war is no longer about airfields, but Wi-Fi. Time will tell how Russia responds to this 'Pearl Harbor–style attack.' But the world must now live with the knowledge that $500 drones can disable billion-dollar fleets. Where we go from here, even the bard – Dylan or Valmiki – doesn't know. Royal Challenge Completed (With apologies to legendary football commentator Peter Drury, but read in his voice) It is done. After 18 years of endless sprints, narrow misses and heartbreak… Virat Kohli is the IPL Champion. He arrived a round-faced, wide-eyed youth, fresh off the Under-19 crown, arriving with swagger and intent: the next big thing in Indian cricket. And over the years, the boy became myth, the prototype of the modern Indian cricketer. Arrogant, confident, bearded, and with a love for sororal greetings. He shed his baby fat, he carved sinew from sacrifice. He took every challenge head-on, becoming a modern cricketing great— leading the Indian team to new frontiers as he unleashed the dogs of war. He made fitness a faith, and his beard a banner— emulated on every gully, every Instagram post, every generation that saw in him not just a cricketer, but a creed. He fought with fire. He bared his soul at deep midwicket, at Lord's, at the Wanderers, at the MCG. He took on SENA giants not with politeness, but with pupils dilated in combat, his rage not a flaw but a fuel—dragging India and RCB through trenches and tempests. But for all the fables, all the hundreds, this trophy—this wretched, elusive, shiny little grail— mocked him every April and May. And still, he stayed. He stayed with RCB. No glamour transfers. No shortcuts. He chose heartbreak on home soil over triumph elsewhere. He gave them his youth, his prime, his decline—and his resurrection. And so tonight, when the sky cracked open and the last ball disappeared, he didn't leap. He sank. To his knees, hands to face, fingers trembling. Not in shock—but in stillness. The silence of a man who gave everything… and finally received. And how fitting—Bengaluru, his karmabhoomi. The city of lakes, of monsoon evenings and overflowing dreams. The Silicon Valley of India, where code meets coffee, and cricket conquers all. Where strangers speak ten tongues but cheer in one voice. Where IT parks and idli stalls erupt in chorus when RCB walks out. A city that gave him a home, and tonight, he gave it a reason to roar. Eighteen years. One franchise. One man. And now the elusive title. At long last… it is challenge completed. Like, Share, Collapse The following excerpt is from my fellow cartoonist Prasad Sanyal's excellent blog. There's something perversely elegant about a society that can manufacture both iPhones and ideologies with the same ruthless efficiency. Yanis Varoufakis [a Greek politician and economist], riffing off Chomsky's Manufacturing Consent, tosses us a neat little paradox wrapped in economic angst: that the more financialised our lives become, the more agreeable we get—and the more spectacular our breakdowns. Consent, it seems, isn't what it used to be. Once upon a time, it had to be extracted—with religion, kings, or gulags. These days, it's delivered via push notification and monetised outrage. Capitalism doesn't just want your labour; it wants your belief system bundled in prime-time infotainment and Facebook Lives. Read more. Losing His Cool On a chilly Stavanger evening, the unthinkable happened. The great Magnus Carlsen—the Viking overlord of modern chess—slammed his fist on the board as his pieces scattered like confetti. Across the table, D Gukesh, all of 19, calmly watched history unfold. He'd just become the first reigning world champion to beat the world No. 1 in classical chess since Kasparov terrorised the board. This wasn't just a win—it was a psychological decapitation. Carlsen had dominated for 50-odd moves. The engine showed +4 in his favour. But chess doesn't award runs for style. One blunder under time pressure (52…Ne2+) and the predator turned prey. Gukesh, who had already sensed blood, picked up his queen with the swagger of a man who knew the match was over. The Norwegian, suddenly mortal, banged the table, sending pawns flying and egos bruised. He extended a sheepish hand, then patted the teen on the back, half in apology, half in awe. Gukesh had done what Anand, Kramnik, and Karpov never could—beat the reigning world No. 1 while holding the crown. This wasn't just about the win. It was about grit, patience, and playing the long con in a brutal 62-move Ruy Lopez Berlin slugfest. Carlsen, ironically, played with his king like a warrior—marching him to the first rank. But Gukesh wasn't buying the intimidation. He met fire with ice. Trump's Mad Philosopher Before Trump made democracy optional and Elon turned government into a venture-backed LARP, there was Curtis Yarvin—part-time monarchist, full-time troll, and Silicon Valley's in-house necromancer. Back in 2008, while liberals were still drunk on hope and change, Yarvin—then known as Mencius Moldbug—was quietly uploading 120,000-word blogposts that read like a cross between Machiavelli and a Reddit meltdown. His central thesis? Democracy is a bug, not a feature. Harvard is the Vatican of Woke. And America would be better run by a startup CEO with nukes and Marc Andreessen on speed dial. You may scoff—but Peter Thiel didn't. J.D. Vance didn't. Trump definitely didn't. Yarvin is not your usual right-wing grunt. He's the Dark Elf of the dissident right, whispering digital manifestos in faux-Elizabethan prose. He cries during lunch and dreams of putting San Francisco's homeless in VR exile. He builds political theology disguised as software. Urbit, his failed feudal internet project, raised millions—proof that in America, bad ideas just need a charismatic front-end. But what makes Yarvin dangerous isn't his ideology. It's his aesthetic. He doesn't write policy; he performs it. His blog is cosplay for crypto kings. His politics? Brutalism meets biodynamic wine. And while liberals hold book clubs about authoritarianism, Yarvin's drinking biodiesel with the guy rewriting immigration law. In 2025, the joke's over. The man who called elections a mistake is now shaping what comes after them. He's not storming the castle. He's redecorating it. And if you squint, you'll see the future peeking out from under his high-collared Substack. It's not democratic. It's draped in velvet and lit by vibes. Facebook Twitter Linkedin Email Disclaimer Views expressed above are the author's own.
