Meaninglessness
The aphorism goes, “facts are stranger than fiction”. So pristinely ineffable is fiction, however, as to allure the refined tastes of those who care to read in the information age. It may be hypothesized that fiction, regardless of the author’s intent, does invariably encompass some or the other truth intrinsic to this universe. Take the instance of Michael Crichton’s famed novel Jurassic Park. The eccentric chaotician Dr. Ian Malcolm, ever prepared to exhibit his rapieresque intellect, tells us, “Living systems are not like mechanical systems. Living systems are never in equilibrium. They are inherently unstable. They may seem stable, but they’re not. Everything is moving and changing. In a sense, everything is on the edge of collapse.”
And here we witness the oracularity of our existence. In his authoritative book “Why the West Rules — For Now”, historian Ian Morris explains that the success of man is attributable to an assortment of evolutionary advantages over the previous ‘apemen’ and the Neanderthals, including but not limited to propitiously developed vocal cords and opposable thumbs. Most significantly, however, that which permitted man to employ these gifts to his advantage in the first place was his enviably ingenious brain. The Morris Theorem, aptly so called, says, “Change is caused by lazy, greedy, frightened people looking for easier, more profitable and safer ways to do things. And they rarely know what they are doing.” This, needless to say, is possible only on account of cerebral ingenuity.
Could it possibly be the self-same endeavour that hinders man from finding his equilibrium? Dr. Malcolm could almost be heard explaining to us gently that we are no exception to the rule, for we are as much part of the living system as are seemingly less intelligent creatures, ungifted with the power of refined speech and of problem-solving with the sapience that befits human capital. But ought we not to explore the possibility that we may, as a result of great deliberation, conjure up a solution? Change — if I may reiterate the Morris Theorem — is caused by lazy, greedy, frightened people looking for easier, more profitable and safer ways to do things. We ought perhaps to regard it in our interest to embody the third of the epithets in the foregoing description.
“Frightened? Afeared? Of what? For what?” Of not having arrived at our equilibrium, of course. It so happens that the context of Dr. Malcom’s statement was equilibrium in regard to life itself — the supposition that man could somehow be in absolute control and could maintain a living system in perfect harmony. But we are not concerned with challenging the Almighty, for that is his remit alone. The equilibrium we are concerned with is not that of power relations in living systems, but that of a resource over which only the sagacious few have control in the event of adversity; that which is more pullulating than any artificially engineered living system. We are concerned with the equilibrium of mind.
So recondite is the philosophically apparent soul that we are often led to overlook the scientifically evident mind. The chemistry between both is equally enigmatic. It behoves us, therefore, to dwell not so much on their theoretical definitions and their interplay but compendiously understand that which causes their consonance. Dr. Anand Ranganathan does well to remind us that we are, in terms of Science alone, but a bunch of cells peregrinating towards an eventual demise. Life as such, therefore, has no inherent meaning, for there is neither salvation nor damnation. Subject indeed is such a polemical topic to animadversions from philosophers and religionists alike, but not the most ardent scientist could dispute the fact that there is, if but in the abstract, an almost mystical equilibrium that is achieved when one discovers that with which one finds utmost resonance. To the scripturient, writing is that with which he finds utmost resonance. To the painter, it is the polychromatous rendition of his envisaged paradise on paper with which he finds utmost resonance. In quotidian terms, we call it “one’s purpose in life.”
Yet, it is crucial to remember that it is the manner in which our intrinsic proclivity manifests, more than the manifestation itself, that propels us closer to the forestated equilibrium. Let us regard one poetically disposed Wordsworth. So disposed is he towards semantic elegance that the most lyrical essay could emanate from his pen spontaneously. Scarce would his equilibrium be possible were his choice of words limited and his repertoire of books by other eminent essayists, novelists and poets confiscated. For is not reading a prerequisite to writing?
Let us regard one Vivaan Arya from Aryanagar. He is the quintessence of studentship, unlike his creator. A consummate bibliophile, intelligent to the point of intimidation and interested in being known as a polymath. If so interested in learning is he, one would presume that education is that with which he finds utmost resonance. But there is more to his parable than meets the eye; the importance of the manner manifests itself perhaps most crucially in this regard.
The realm of liberal arts is uncharted terrain so far as India is concerned — unfamiliar and seemingly sinister. Vivaan happens to be one of the voyagers in this terrain; a realm often overlooked in national discourse in favour of the religion of engineering. He knows in adumbrate terms the amplifying relevance of liberal arts, particularly such fields as political science, of which he happens to be a student. But he is scarce interested in lectures. He finds podcasts and books more illuminating than his class sessions, which invariably involve an inundation of facts, which could anyway be obtained from reading material, as opposed to analysis and simulation of real-world problems. He knows that an effective education in this stream must necessarily involve the embellishment of problem-solving skills. The question he often deliberates upon is whether or not a reading of recommended books in advance, followed by concept-clarification and case-studies so as to test the students’ ability to apply theory, would be more effective a mechanism than that extant, thus achieving his Student Equilibrium.
But there is more to education than mere lectures. In theory, internal assessments serve to test an assortment of skills, such as the ability to research, incorporate the most relevant components, present the research in a manner most comprehensible and compendious. On some occasions, however, such valuable skills must be sacrificed at the altar of such preposterous assessments as film appreciations and poster designs, neither of which test Vivaan’s dexterity at problem-solving.
It is thus evident that education fails to draw him nearer to Equilibrium. What can, then? Perhaps reading interesting books on occasion can, only for that wondrous experience to be interrupted by the cold reality of specious university lectures and internal assessments. A straightforward answer is not afforded with ease. For never has life been so bodaciously meaningless, monotonous and morose as it has been in these days of the COVID-19 pandemic. Lives have been lost and livelihoods ruined, and some family relations may indeed have become cantankerous. Many desire in utmost earnest that the world achieve a semblance of normalcy; they refuse to attribute to the world a post-apocalyptic irremediability. It is possible for human resilience to triumph over this viral nemesis; for us to rediscover that Equilibrium; for us to eradicate in some measure our inexorable intertwinement with our devices.
Pessimism indeed pervades the mind that writes these words, and it yearns for liberation. It can conjure up but two ways of achieving liberation: (a) Meaningful employment; and (b) Death. Some actively solicit the latter, though they do not actively make attempts towards instantaneous realization, for the world is an unmitigated abjection. Odious as it sounds, therefore, it is prudent to have nothing but the greatest sympathy for such of those who, as has been particularly true in this pandemic period, surrendered before their depression and embraced death. Of what use is life when employment is lost and free movement subject to the vicissitudinous mood of the political executive? How is it consonant with reason to say, as has often been preposterously said, that suicide is no escape from problems, given that death is indeed a great liberator? On the other hand, one can possibly not sympathize enough equally with their family members who, in times of great tempest, have been put through the ordeal of losing them.
It is here that the idyll attracts with the raw power of its tranquility. For Nature invigorates more than we are prepared to admit. A week of quietistic existence in a secluded glade with endemically salubrious air may well suffice to invigorate the most pessimistic of men. And while a perennial existence in a back of the beyond hamlet is not desirable, intermittent retirement to such picturesque manifestations of Nature is most felicitous. But with younger people, it need not exceptionally be quietistic. Such a momentary abandonment of urban tempest may be designed as an expedition with adventure games to foster team-spirit.
Yet, we must not fall prey to wishful thought. The paradox of meaninglessness now assumes great significance: being perennially pessimistic about the world, with the simultaneous mental strength of persisting nonetheless, may eventually culminate in a welcome surprise as fortune invariably announces its arrival. Expect nothing, for life is meaningless, and be pleasantly surprised with the individually bounteous yet altogether scarce fortunes life has to bless us with.
