Satyagraha
Honoring the power of non-violent resistance and the courage it takes to practice it
Today, for our paid subscribers, I would like to share something a little more allegorical, perhaps a little more artistic. If you saw the article “There is Cosmic Wisdom in this Simple Question,” you would have encountered the phrase “redneck satyagraha.” So what is satyagraha? The following is a strange, roundabout way of answering that question.
—MB
Mohandas opened his eyes.
Union Jacks flapped over sacred Hindu sites. Rickshaw drivers pulled ladies, dandies, and redcoats. Soldiers, metal bedizened, strode on ancient avenues with an air of pomp. This picture somehow lent greater humanity to the lowest among us. Whether it was children shining jackboots in Bombay train stations or women begging for bread on Calcutta's streets, they had a job to do.
Still, soldiers marched, sentinels guarded, and the Company made a rupee on every cup that warmed the bellies of souls far away.
Mohandas closed his eyes.
He saw resplendent Krishna, the eighth avatar of Vishnu, with his azure skin and feminine mien, and how his chariot gleamed in the mind's eye. With him was Arjuna, the mightiest and most skilled of warriors, ready to fire arrows from faithful Gandiva. But as Krishna joined him on the chariot, Arjuna let the bow slip from his grasp. Arjuna had become despondent. He was worried about going to war with the blind king and his hundred sons. They were, after all, a part of him.
Mohandas opened his eyes.
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