The range of mountains along the Caspian Sea off Lebanon, known as the Elburz, contained multi-tiered valleys ordinarily inaccessible. Out of these valleys suddenly would emerge a gang of mysterious horsemen. Half visible in the fog and dust they would storm into caravans and distant towns and villages and disappear leaving behind thousands of men and animals butchered and localities burnt. It was believed they commanded the whirlwind to accompany them. The fact was they had been trained to gallop with the whirlwinds that frequently swept across the desert areas.
They were recruits of Hassan Ben Sabbah, the notorious Old Man of the Mountain. His terror began towards the end of 11th century and continued for a few decades. No expeditions sent by monarchs could approach his citadel; so strategically was it situated amidst steep ravines.
Exiled from Persia, Hassan Sabbah, along with some followers, had colonised the valleys. The first task he had undertaken was to create a garden, following the description of paradise in the Quran. Streams of milk and other drinks, luxurious couches— means for satisfying any desire at the disposal of a dweller in paradise could have an esoteric meaning in that holy book. But Hassan Sabbah created gross versions meticulously exact, with charming damsels ready to satisfy lucky entrants into it.
His lieutenants would capture or invite youths and treat them to a special potion of hashish. The befuddled guests soon vulnerable to fantasy, would be carried into the “paradise”. After they had enjoyed to their fill, the damsels would offer them another drink and they would be in a stupor. Once they came to senses—but with senses haunted by the irresistible memory of the paradise— they would be assured of their eligibility to dwell there eternally after death if they joined the gang.
The gang Hassan Sabbah built, subsequently known as Hassassins because of their hashish-orientation and then Assassins, was not only perverse brutal to others, but also least hesitant to face death. In fact as Marco Polo, the 13th century Italian adventurer who gathered their history while passing by the mountains, says, “they longed for death”.
According to a reminiscence, in order to demonstrate before a royal guest how committed his men were to him, the chief once turned towards a group of his “fanatic followers who were standing idly on a nearby tower, and with a wave of his arm gestured that they should leap from the walls. Unhesitatingly the young men obeyed and jumped straight to their deaths on the rocks far below”. (T Severin: Tracking Marco Polo). It was Hulagu Khan and his Tartar army that ultimately destroyed the Assassins and all their fortifications. (The word assassin bears their memory.)
The contemporary suicide-terrorists too are assured of their after-life luxury or eternally blissful existence. Considerable amount of research has been done on the motivation of these people and that is a vast subject. Those who kill and get killed in the name of religion, since religions including Islam unambiguously forbid suicide, cover the sinful act by misappropriating the glorious term martyrdom. But even when the “suicide candidate” consciously does not visualise a celestial reward, his subconscious anticipates it.
Their brainwashers promise them experiences such as joy of death as Mohammed Atta, leader of the September 11 attack did. Needless to say, that sort of joy could be had only if one was there after one’s death. Subconsciously every terrorist believes he will be there to enjoy the consequence of the violence he perpetrates, unless he is one of those compelled to act and it is too late for him to back out.
But be it terror suicide or any other class of suicide, parapsychic studies unambiguously establish that suicide does not yield any variety of paradise. Of several objective researches in this regard, let us look at one by Raymond A Moody. His Life after Life presents the “after-death” experiences of men and women declared clinically dead but, call it destiny’s freak or miracle, who returned to life.
They brought sweet memories of peace and protection they experienced during those moments when they could see themselves separated from their bodies. But invariably opposite was the case with those who committed suicide (not just attempted) and returned to life inexplicably. They suffered their anguish “with added complications. In their disembodied state they were unable to do anything about their problems, and they also had to view the unfortunate consequences which resulted from their acts”. There are findings that are horrifying, reminding us of the mythical hell.
About 80 years ago when Sri Aurobindo heard that somebody was planning to commit suicide, the Mahayogi replied, “He will only carry his difficulties with him into a more miserable condition of existence beyond and bring them back to another life on earth.”
With suicide becoming a chosen ritual for youths ranging from would-be terrorists to “Blue Whale” addicts, it should do well to introduce such observations in our academic syllabi. But this is probably too much to propose in a country where contradictions dominate the spheres of life. Behind every suicide there are several subtle causes though one cause may be highlighted.
A student leader X, claiming to be an Ambedkarite commits suicide forgetting that Ambedkar did not commit suicide, but valiantly fought against injustice. Another student leader, Y, declares that X is his hero, forgetting that thereby he was idealising suicide. Next, leaders of even such parties who are supposed to be progressive speak about both X and Y in such terms that as if the two were the epitome of revolution. This too is a face of India today!
Manoj Das
Eminent author and recipient of several awards including the Sahitya Akademi Fellowship
Email: prof.manojdas@gmail.com