Simplicity…something we, as self perceived intellectuals abhor wholeheartedly must be looked upon once again.
In the preface to the second edition of ‘The Story Of Philosophy‘, author Will Durant writes ‘The worst sin of all-though the critics do not seem to have noticed it-was the omission of Chinese and Hindu Philosophy…‘
The aversion seems to have sprung from the banal intelligibility of Confucius,Buddha and Shankara et al.
He writes further’…But we “moderns” have become so accustomed to windy verbiage that when philosophy is presented without the verbiage we can with difficulty recognize it.’
“…he is disreputably intelligible; and nothing could be so damaging to a philosopher...’ he adds.
But if you haven’t noticed before…the best things in life are simple.
The best things in life are simple,but only in a reductionist sense of view, for even a superficially simple phenomenon may have a complex mechanisms behind it and revealing the apparent complexity will simply make it …well …simply no longer the best.
Yes…one must not confuse topicality with simplicity.
Years later, I once again climbed on my mango tree.
Back then, things were simple.We spent endless summer days playing under the hot sun,without a worry or a drop of sunscreen.We never wore helmets,knee-guards,elbow pads while cycling.There was no safety net when we swung from a rope tied atop the guava tree on my neighbours backyard.
We didn’t have computers,internet or cellphones…I took the cycle to my school, parked it with the rest of the cycles.We played in the mud, got dirty,bruised and tired.A cold glass of lemonade awaited us at the end of the day.
So as I used to do, once upon a time, as a kid(was it that long ago?), I climbed on my mango tree.I’m not as nimble as I used to be, and I had to struggle and heave myself to get up…also, the branches groaned unkindly now that I weighed much more in my adulthood.
I plucked a few tender mangoes…green and pungent in aroma…an aroma such that it would render you to salivate as you imagined the taste of the delicious yet sour flesh of the tender mango.
Tender mango diced into small cubes,a generous helping of salt and chili powder and a tablespoon of coconut oil to tamp down the fiery heat of the chillipowder…My exquisitely delicious Mango Pacchadi was ready…which was the staple diet of kids everywhere in our city in the summers.
Each bite of the fiery salty sourness took me back to places I had not been for a long time…Memories made me nostalgic once again, as I saw a fresh bunch of kids spend their summer vacations in our otherwise sleepy neighbourhood.
But I refrained myself from repeating the old lies that ‘those days were better than what you have now’.
Those days were different.
I’m not the Ben 10,Bey blade,Pokemon generation.
I’ll never be it no matter how much I try to immerse myself or understand.
For all practical purposes, there exists a threshold of understanding, which we have conveniently termed as ‘Generation gap’…because what appears simple to these kids is confoundedly complex to us…and the chasm of understanding is widening as we speak.
The mango pacchadi tasted the best when it had no more than 3 ingredients…But Why So? is another question, something not to be pondered upon.
But…things are neither better nor worse…they are simply different and as the french say
C’est la vie…