the wars within and the wars out there

Friday morning. Nine O clock class. a general discussion on Realist scholars scheduled. I had asked the third year undergraduate to read about three of them: Carr, Morganthau and Waltz. At nine, I find seven students waiting. The weather this morning is not torturous and from this tiny classroom on the third floor of the building, a heavy and sweet breeze flow. the students however, are unprepared and unrepentant.

I walk out. after an agitated outburst, of course. but a minute later, am plagued by dilemmas on whether I should have reverted to a lecture which would have meant, again, that passivity, which I am trying to combat. I decided, that it was right. and on Monday morning, again at nine, we shall see if this worked or not.

I spent this hour instead, in the library, where I read Martha Nussbaum's The Class Within, where she examines the emergence of the right wing in India. Of course, we know that Martha teaches at the Divinity School at Chicago University. Very very impressive. and the radiates with a certain alarm at the rise of bjp and especially the february 27, 2002 incident in Gujarat which resulted in the genocide. I cannot complete the book, but I get a general idea of the book which is not new of course. The college bell rings, and I have to deliver a lecture on the outbreak of the first world war.

All the textbooks, start off with the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand. It is so typical of modern history to want to emperically identify, a time, a date, a place. and just like the Sabarmati express, the assasination is not event. its a manifestation of an unignorable intent. A deep desire which transcends time and space. but results in blood and war.

I showed them pictures of Kaiser Wilhelm II. and they were taken in by the fancy headgear with the eagle on the top. and their eyes widened when I told them why he holds his left hand in his right. but the moment of serendipity took place on the bus home, when I was reading Siddharth Mukherjee's terrific, terrific account of a terrifying disease. and on page 85, Wilhem II swims to the surface, just when I thought I had left him in room no. 312: In 1908 the Kaiser invites Ehlrich, the man who has discovered 'special affinity' to a private audience in his palace to enquire if he has a cure for cancer. The king is a hypochondriac, but doesnt have the patience to listen to Ehlrich's stories of his chemicals and the possibilities they hold. 'he cut the audience short'. thats the last we hear of the Kaiser. what we do hear is the monstrous use of mustard gas, which forces soldiers eyes shut and in agonizing pain. and here I sit in my home, thinking that this comfort is real, and that pain of the seraing mustard gas is far away in time. Its not. the comfort of home is as fragile as the possibilities of peace.

We dont live in 'interesting times'. Not anymore.