In 1979, French post-structuralist philosopher Jean Francois Lyotard, in his book The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, argued that knowledge is subjective, fractured and fragmented, and that there is no one universal truth. Whether we agree with Lyotard or not, there is a broader consensus that we are in an era of knowledges, not knowledge, and that people obsessively and authoritatively express themselves in areas of intellectual and emotional priorities. Our fragmented existence defines the post-modernist movement and, as a result, the ‘anarchy of thoughts’ today.
Last month, in a first for any country, we celebrated landing on the Moon’s south pole, and a little more than a week later, ISRO launched India’s maiden Sun mission: Aditya-L1. The euphoria was widespread and contagious. Chandrayaan-3 was a new direction, a movement towards scientific quest, failure and achievement. It took us away from the humdrum of strife, conflict, and ideological and political propaganda that threaten to weigh heavily upon our identity, rationality and reason.
The lunar and solar expeditions had captured students’ imaginations, and as they say, action driven by knowledge is exemplary; many schools reported a steep surge in interest in science and space among their students. Just then, DMK leader Udhayanidhi Stalin stirred controversy over Sanatana Dharma, and the whole discourse changed; from following Chandrayaan-3 daily through posts by ISRO on the microblogging site ‘X’ to criticising or defending Udhayanidhi. Not many know how ISRO achieved its space missions or what Sanatana Dharma is. But the talk is on, and social media is frothing seamlessly on every discussion.The invitation from the 'President of Bharat' for the G20 Summit in New Delhi has taken every Indian and Bharatiya by surprise. The name of an individual is a personal identity. The name of a country is its collective identity. Changing the name of an individual or place or nation has to be a democratic process. Else, it validates power. The mind is too full to process the ‘anarchy of thoughts’. T S Eliot borrowed three Sanskrit words from the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad—Datta (to give in charity), Dayadhvam (to be compassionate), and Damyata (self-control)—for his poem, The Waste Land (1922), on brokenness and loss post-World War I. It ended with ‘shantih shantih shantih’, which Eliot translated as ‘the peace which passeth understanding’.