It has been one-hundred years since Marcel Proust (10 July 1871 – 18 November 1922) passed. He lived just 51 years during which he wrote several novels. Considered arguably as the greatest literary figure of the 20th century and one of the greatest novelists of all times, Proust is remembered, in particular, for his last novel, À la recherche du temps perdu (1913–1927), also titled ‘In Search of Lost Time’, which took him 13 years to write – mostly during nights, on his bed. The seven-volume novel, with more than 3,000 pages, is understood to be based on Proust’s own life and his desperate quest to decipher the meaning of life. The last three volumes of the novel were published after his departure, between 1922 and 1927. Notably, Franz Kafka (3 July 1883 – 3 June 1924), another great novelist around the same time, also stirred up the meaning of the challenging human existence, delicately, and departed after living just 41 years.
Seemingly, as a desperate, last-minute bid to decipher the meaning of life before his death, Proust finely treads through three essential domains that most humans normally use to justify the human existence and the means to discover joy and fulfilment – (a) living a good life through material progress and wealth; (b) experiencing love and friendship; and (c) treading a pathway through the works of art.
Proust’s greatest novel ostensibly laments (a) the lost time, which we lose normally in growing up, as we age; (b) gradual forfeiture of human innocence through life experiences; (c) hollowness and limitations of love life and friendship; (d) intrinsic vanity of human endeavour; and (e) the (sickening) triumph of sin and despair.
Thankfully, after enduring an arduous literary journey of 13 long years, Proust concluded that it is not the ‘material wealth’ or the ‘love life’ but all those simple tasks that we do in our every-day mundane life, or the things that we perceive in the normal courses of our life, that continually bring us joy and render immense meaning to our life, thereby, maximising the value of our limited time on Earth, rendering it relatively indestructible. It seems Proust hints at the need to inculcate a habit of living in the moment.
Two days after Proust’s 100th death anniversary, I shared the above thoughts on 20 Nov 2022 on my Facebook page, with a solemn aim to remember Proust and acknowledge his hard-earned realisation. After all, he had laboured resolutely for 13 long years, immediately before his death at young age, to arrive at his meaningful conclusions. Intriguingly, however, a reader, with a religious bent, reacted strangely to the post, making an unfounded yet explosive allegation:
‘Good way of thinking. However, I also see all such writings as part of an intense effort to TAKE OUT LORD KRISHNA and rewrite some points already written in Hinduism – Vedanta books many, many years ago. My apologies if my beliefs hurt your feelings.’
Politely, I requested him to desist from mixing literature with religion or politics, as the mixture tends to further deepen the divisions in an already polarised world of humans. The world needs more unifiers and less dividers. We can’t afford any more controversies and conspiracies than what we already have. It is true that similar messages as Proust’s – about the importance of enjoying every-day simple things in life to maximise the use of one’s time on Earth and reap immense moral joy in the process – have been shared by philosophers and writers from time to time, from across the planet Earth, throughout the history of human beings, without any competition between them.
No one owns the truth. Like the Earth, the Sun, the Moon, the atmosphere and the oceans, it belongs to each one of us. We may realize or discover it independently, in our own separate ways at our own times, but that does not mean that any of us has the right to downplay the works of the past or present philosophers, or discredit or denigrate them in any shape or form of our liking or at the time of our choosing. There can be absolutely no competition between the humans in the ownership of the truth and, as such, none of us can claim authority or copyright in its ownership.
Our mind loves to complicate things. Despite the greatest of the truths so obvious to us, we limit their existence to a chosen few, by complicating their existence. Our eyes see what our mind wishes to see and not necessarily the reality that lies clearly in front of our eyes. Our mind, inherently characterised by our prejudices, biases and preconceptions, tends to prevail over logic.
For example, misinterpreting the term ‘good’ as ‘great’ in one of my social media posts, a learned person commented: ‘Humility does not make one great, the great becomes humble.’
I replied: ‘Those who are ‘great’ never claim to be ‘good’ (and vice versa), the two terms are mutually exclusive. Neither Alexander nor Ashoka called themselves as ‘great’. While goodness can be primarily inherent, greatness tends to be generally thrusted upon by others who see it that way. One does not need to be ‘good’ to be called ‘great’ (and vice versa). While the ‘great’ can be ambitious, belligerent and pretentious, the ‘good’ usually comes across as quiet, humble and selfless. Great can be inflated with ego, the ‘good’ goes about life sans ego.’
What good is jingoism if our home (planet Earth) is being pulled apart into a perilous state? What good is history if it burdens us with inflaming stories of atrocities of the past. Our cries of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ characterise our regression and threaten our peaceful coherence on the planet. The world continues to polarise communities. Religion, nationality, ethnicity, gender and class divide the world into smaller segments, sadly, one not happy with the other. Who is right and who is wrong? All or none!
Perhaps, humanism can be seen as a bridge between the divided communities, as a lasting solution to heal our unhappy memories of a more violent past and bury our bitterness and differences. Humanism can certainly help to stitch the divisions between us and weave us into one human fabric.
Humanism is noble, yet excruciating and testing; although, in an ideal world, it does not have to be so. It represents one of the highest ideals of an evolved human. Humanism means transcending religion and politics and protecting even your enemy who may be sleeping blissfully, oblivious of a present or impending danger. It has the potential to turn foes into friends. Those enemies who you may protect, may turn out to be your most formidable allies and trusted shields in your times of need. Similar to democracy, humanism defines the evolution and true progress of humans. It is a robust pathway to a mutually respectful and peaceful coexistence of humans. Most importantly, it is inclusive. And that is wisdom indeed.
One must be cognisant of the fact that those who benefit materially from deepening and creating new divisions – ideological or political – between the humans will never cherish humanism or like it to be talked about or put into practice. Those who feed on strife like to see the humans fight one another. Nonetheless, despite all its negativity, the world incessantly seeks equilibrium and creeps slowly forward towards a more peaceful and viable tomorrow, not for one but for all of us. And that will happen till the end of the time or, at least, until the humans exist. Our history bears a strong testimony to our past progress. We’ll make more progress in terms of a sustainable human race as time goes by.
© Bill K Koul [21 Nov 2022, Perth, Western Australia]
Copyright © Bill K Koul