Folly of Wise Men

Chapter - 2 The girl who was the Wind

Since this book is supposed to be my chronicle, it should have a proper beginning. So let us delve deep into the heart of who I am by sailing down the river called time. Let us journey years back before my triumphs and follies.

Contrary to the rumours, I do not belong to the fallen house of Yugakhadga. I am not an heir to a family of power-hungry fools cursed with hearts that burned with covetous fire but was simply sired by a man who had no aspirations other than whoring and gambling. I may not have inherited his vices, but I inherited something far worse: his caste.

Those who inherit this curse find themselves relegated to the outskirts of villages and walled precincts in cities. According to the priests, this practice is done to separate men from beasts. The priests, lest we beasts forget our place, constantly remind us of our forefathers' sins to give reason to their unfair treatment.

Centuries ago, we had betrayed the revered god king. Our ancestors sided with the danavas and helped them destroy the world so the antithesis of svayambu could remake it in its own vision and reward their loyalty. However, as often happens in stories, righteousness prevailed, leading to the defeat of danvas in the hands of the righteous armies.

After facing such a devastating defeat at their hands, we, the traitors of mankind, sought forgiveness. To our surprise, the god king extolled his compassion, offering us a place in his paradise, as servants.

Give the alternative was death, we accepted his gracious offer, recognizing the grim reality that servitude is the only to survive.

To ensure that we, along with the rest of mankind, live in accordance with their god's intentions, his lapdogs often remind us about the supremacy of Varna—condemning the perceived evils of free will that, according to them, hinder the wheel of progress.

I shall be honest with you, for I have pledged veracity. If my words offend you, I humbly request that you bear them with fortitude. Never have I chanced upon a holy man lacking in falsehoods and untarnished by perversity. Most of them are a blight upon mankind, true hinderers of the wheel of progress, propagating lies in the name of utopia. I rejected their poisonous lies to embrace a world where truth prevails, and wanted to cultivate a society where every individual is treated with respect. But soon I grasped the lunacy of my ways when I learned about the impossibility of preserving the peace that comes after a revolution.

Compared to me, my parents willingly endured harsh treatment. They did not desire change, as the concept of change was unfamiliar and adapting to something unfamiliar seemed arduous. They possessed a strong sense of stubbornness about these things, particularly my father, who was as obstinate as a mule.

He held affection for his oppressors, and I assure you that this is by no means an exaggeration. While it may sound paradoxical and even absurd, but such is the way of humanity. For some of us, it's easier to love our abusers than to confront the truth of their character.

Meanwhile, my mother unlike my father deplored the mistreatment yet held no reservations about keeping her head down and acting pious. People like my mother, you see, do not desire a revolution because they possess wisdom that I sorely lack—a sight to see and a heart to feel that all this anger would inevitably lead in one direction and one direction only: towards chaos.

My father was blinded by adoration, while my mother was wilfully blind.

Such are the ways of the elders, and they are passed down from one generation to another. From a mother to her daughter, from a father to a son, one lesson is passed over, and it is that self-preservation carries greater significance than dignity.

I cannot fault them for believing in it. For I too was no different, until something dawned upon me: What purpose does life hold if joy is absent from its very essence? This one question was a spark that ignited the concealed passion that wanted me to be more. The more to me was music, and it became an essential part of me, and as long as it remained so, I did not care about earning a coin or gaining recognition for my talents.