The diary of shaheed bhagat singh (excerpt) – part 2 of 3

below are my compiled favorite lines,quotes, widom from the diary of great martyr shaheed bhagat singh i divided it into two parts,hope you will find wisdom among the pages of this great young man..

after going through it,i compiled below some of the content that was utmost appealin to me,you may go through the original page and compile your own version.here is content quoted from different authors,scholars,poets & some written by  bhagat singh durin his time in prison,the diary was later retrieved and compiled for public view.the work written and compiled reflects his knowledge on socialism,politics,history, and a wide variety of subjects,however nvertheless goin through this page i would recommend one intersted to self read the whole diary which is about 80 pages, filled with brilliance & pure abstract knowledge.

Page 41

continued from last page:——Religion is the sigh of oppressed creature the feelings of a heartless world just asit is the spirit of inspiritual conditions. ” It is the opium of the people”The people cannot be really happy untill it has been deprived of illusory happinesby the abolition of religion. The demand that the people should shake itself freeof illusion as to its own condition is the demand that it should abondon acondition which needs illusionThe weapon of criticism cannot replace the critiism of weapons. Physical forcemust be overthrown by physical force as soon as it takes possesion of themasses

Page 46Democracy

: —-Democracy is theoratically a system of political and legal equality . But inconcrete and practical operation it is false, for there can be no equality , not evenin politics and before the law , so long as there is glaring in equality in economicpower. So long as the ruling class owns the workers jobs and the press

andthe schools of country and all organs for the moulding and expression of publicopinion; so long as it monopolise all trained public functionaries and disposes of unlimited funds to influence elections , so long as the laws are made by rulingclass and the courts are presided over by members of that class, so long as

XXXIV

lawyers are private practitioners who sell their skill to the heighest bidder andlitigation is technical and costly , so long will the nominal equality before the lawbe a hollow mackery.In a capitalist regime the whole machinary of democracy operates to keep theruling class monority in power thrugh the sufferage of working class majority, andwhen the bourgeois goverment feels itself endangered by democratic institutions,such institutions re often crushed without compunction.[ p 58][ From Marx to Lenin ][ by Morris Hillquit ]Democracy does not secure ” equal rights and a share in all political rights for every body , to what ever class or party he may belong ” (Kautsky) It only allowsfree political and legel play .For the existing economic inequalities ………….Democracy under capitalism is thus not general, abstract democracy but specificbourgeois democracy ………. or as Lenin terms it ————- democracy for bourgeois

Page 47

” Term ”

Revolution

” defined ” :—-” The conception of revolution is not to be treated in the police interpretation of term , in the sense of an armed rising. A party would be mad that would choosethe method of insurrection on principle so long as it has at its disposal different ,less costly , and safer methods of action. In that sense , social democracy wasnever revolutioanry on principle . It is only in the sense that it recognises thatwhen it attains political power, it cannot employ it for any other than the abolitionof the mode of production upon which thw present system rests. “” Karl Kautsky

Page 48

Internationale

Arise, ye prisoners of starvation !Arise ye wretched on earth ,To justice thunders condemnation,A better worlds in birth

.No more traditions chain shall bind us,

XXXVI

Arise ye slaves ! no more in thrall !The earth shall rise on new foundation ,we have been naught we be all[refrain]it is like final conflict ,Let earth stand on his place,The international party ,Shall be the human race.———————————Behold them seated in their glory,The kings of mine and rail and soil,When would you read in all their story,But how they plundered toil?

Fruits of peoples work are buried,In the strong coffers of a few,In voting for their restitution,The men will ask only for their due,[ same Refrain ]Toilers from shops and fields united ,The party we of all who work,The earth belongs to us, the people,No room here for the shirk,

XXXVII

How many on our flesh have fattened?But if the noise some birds of pray ,Shall vanish from our sky some morning ,The blessed sunlight still will stay.

Page 49

Marseillaise

Ye sons of toil ,awake to glory !Hark , hark , what myraids bid you rise,Your children, wives and grand sires hoary,Behold their tears and hear their cries,Shall hateful tyrants mischief breeding,With hireling hosts , aruffian band –,Affright and desolute the landWhile peace and liberty lie bleeding ?[ chorus]To arms , To arms ! Ye brave!The avenging sword unsheatheMarch on , march on , all hearts resolved,On Victory or death. With luxury and pride unsounded,

XXXVIII

The vile insatiate despots dare,Their thirst for gold and power unboundedTo meet and vend the light and air;Like beasts of burden would they load us,Like gods would bid their slaves adore,But man is man and who is more ?Then shall they longer last and goad us ?[ The same chorus again ]Oh liberty ! Can man resign thee,Once having felt thy generous flame ?Can dungeons bolts and bars confine thee ,Or whips thy noble spirit tame ?Too long the world has wept bewailing ,The falsehood daggers tyrants wield;But freedom is our sword and shield,And all their arts are unavailing ?[Same Chorus again]

Revolutionary Dictatorship

:—Revolution is an act in which one section of the population imposes its will uponthe other by rifles, bayonets , guns and other such exceedingly authoritarianmeans. And the party which has won is necessarily compelled to maintain its ruleby means of that fear which in arms inspire in the reactionaries. If the Communeof Paris had not relied upon the armed people as against bourgeoisie , would ithave maintained it self more than twenty- four hours? Are we not, in contrary, justified in reproaching the commune for having employed this authority toolittle ?”F.Engles: 0 :

Bourgeoisie Democracy

: —Bourgeoisie Democracy while constituting a great historical advance incomparison with feudalism nevertheless remains and cannot but remain , a verylimited , a very hypocritical institution , a paradise for the rich and a trap and adelusion for the exploited and for the poor

The impatient Idealist

:—–The impatient idealist — and without some impatience a man hardly prove effective — is almost sure to be led into hatered by the opposition, and disappointments which he encounters in his Endeavour to bring happiness to the world.

betrand russell

Arbitrariness

:–Kautsky had written a booklet with the title “Proletariate Dictatorship” and haddeplored the act of Bolsheviks in depriving the burgeoisie people from right to vote. Lenin writes in his “Proletarian Revolution ” : — P 77Arbitariness ! Only think what a depth of meanest subserviency to bourgeoisie and of the most idiotic pedantry is contained in such a reproach , when thoroughly

XLIX

bourgeios and for the most part even reactionaries jurists of capitalist countrieshave in the course of , we may almost say , centuries , been drawing up rulesand regulations and writing up hundreds of volumes of various codes and laws ,and of interpretations of them to oppress the workers , to bind hand and foot (of)the poor men , and to place a hundred and one hindrances and obstacles in the way of the simple and toiling masses of people — when this isdone , the bourgeois Liberals and Mr. Kautsky can see no “arbitrariness”! It is allLaw and Order ! It has all been thought out and written down, how the poor manis to be kept dwn and squeezed. There are thousands and thousands of bourgeois lawyers and officials able to interpret the laws that the workers andaverage peasent can never break through their barbed wire entanglements. Thisof course ,is not a dictatorship of the filthy or profit-seeking exploiters who are drinking the blood of the people. Oh it is nothing of the kind! It is pure

democracy which is becomin

g purer

Page 64

and purer everyday. But whenthe toiling and exploited masses for the first time in history seprated byImperialist War from their brothers across the frontier, have constructed their Soviets, have summoned to the workers of political constrution , the classeswhich the bourgeois used to oppress and to stupefy, and begun themselves tobuild up a new proletarian State, begun in the midest of raging battles ,in the fireof Civil War, to lay down the fundamental principles of “a State without exploiters”, then all the scoundrals of the bourgeoisie , the entire band of blood suckers,with Kautsky, singing obliger to scream about arbitariness!

� �

“Lenin p77-78

The diary of shaheed bhagat singh (excerpt) – part 1 of 3

below are my compiled favorite lines,quotes, widom from the diary of great martyr shaheed bhagat singh i divided it into two parts,hope you will find wisdom among the pages of this great young man..

after going through it,i compiled below some of the content that was utmost appealin to me,you may go through the original page and compile your own version.here is content quoted from different authors,scholars,poets & some written by  bhagat singh durin his time in prison,the diary was later retrieved and compiled for public view.the work written and compiled reflects his knowledge on socialism,politics,history, and a wide variety of subjects,however nvertheless goin through this page i would recommend one intersted to self read the whole diary which is about 80 pages, filled with brilliance & pure abstract knowledge.

Page 20

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;Full many a flower is harm to blush unseenAnd waste it sweetness on the desert air.

Page 21

Not a grave of the murdered for freedom ,but grows seed for freedom , in its turn to beer seed,Which the wind carry afar and re-sow , and therains and the snows nourish .Not a disembodied spirit can the weapons of tyrants let loose,

XVI

But it stalks invincibily over the earth , whispring, counselling cautioning

Page 23

New Gospel” Society can overlook murder , adultry or swindling; it never forgives thepreaching of a new gospel.

immorality of soul : -For you know if you can once get a man beleiving in immorality there is nothingmore left for you to desire ; you can take everything in the world he owns – youcan skin him alive if you please – and he will bear it with perfect good humour.

God Tyrants-A tyrant must put on the appearence of uncommon devotion to religion.Subjectsare less apprehensive of illegal treatment from a ruler whom they consider God -fearing and pious. On the other hand , they do less easily move against him ,beleiving that he has the gods on his side.

Prison-

There were no stars , no earth , no time ,No check , no change , no good , no crime,

XXV

But silence , and a stirless breath,Which neithr was of life nor death.[ The Prisoner of Chillon

After Conviction-

During the moments which immediatly follow upon his sentence , the mind of thecondemned in many respects resembles that of aman on the point of death.Quiet and as if inspired he no longer clings to what he is about to leave , butfirmly looks in front of him, fully conscious of the fact that what is coming isinevitable.[ V N Figner

The Prisoner-

It is a suffocating under the low dirty roof;My strength grows weaker year by year :They oppress me , this stormy floor,This iron chained table ,This bed of steel , this chair , chainedTo the walls , like boards of grave .In this eternal dumb , deep silenceOne can only consider oneself a corpse.” N . A . Morozov”

Page 33

No Enemies?You have no enemies you say ?Alas! my friend the boast is poor;He who has mingled in the frayof duty , that the brave endure,

XXIX

Must have made foes! If you have none,small is the work you have done.You ve hit no traitor on the hip

,You ve dashed no cup from perjured lip

,You ve never turned the wrong to right

,You ve been a coward in the fight

.[ Charles Mackey 747 ] {ed. now cry for justice 493(1996)

Child Labour-

No fledgling feeds the father bird !No chiken feeds the hen,No kitten mouses for the cat -This glory is for men.We are the Wisest , Strongest Race -Loud may our praise be sung !The only animal aliveThat lives upon its young ![ Charlotte Perkins Gilman ] { now C F J p442}

Capitalism and Commercialism :—-

Rabinder Naths adress to an assembly of Japanese students :–

XXXII

” You had your own industry in Japan ; how scrupulously honest and true it was,you can see by its products – by their grace and strength , their conscientiousness in details where they can hardly be observed . But the tidalwave of falsehood has swept over your land from that part of the world wherebusiness is business and honesty is followed merely as the best policy. Have younever felt shame when you see the trade advertisements , not only plastering thewhole town with lies and exaggerations, but invading the green fields , where thepeasents do their honest labour, and to hilltops which greet the first light of themorning?….. This commercialism with its barbarity of ugly decorations is aterrible menance to all humanity , because it is setting up the ideal of power over perfection . It is making the cult of self seekig exult in its nakedshamelessness……………..

page 39

… Its movements are violent , its noise is discardently loud. It is carryingits own damnation because it is trampling into distortion. The humanity uponwhich it stands .It is strenously turning out the money at the cost of happiness……… The vital ambition of the present civilization of Europe is to havethe exclusive possesion of devil.

Karl Marx on Religion :——

Man makes religion ; religion does not make man. Religion , indeed, is the self consciousness and the self feeling of man who either has not yet found himself or else ( have found himself) has lost himself once more. But men is not anabstract being squatting down somewhere outside the world . Man is the world of men , the state , society. This state ,this society produces religion, produces aperverted world consciousness, because they are a perverted world. Religion isthe generalised theory of this world its encylopaedic compend , its logic in apopular form ……….. The fight against religion is, therefore a direct compaignagainst the world whose spiritual aroma is religion

The out of business avatar and images

No smoking pledge- 1st anniversary : prologue

the storyteller

the storyteller

April 26,2011

Manipal, Karnataka

it was a cold night in all due respect, with continuous outpour of rain accompanied by light breeze & a periodic thunderstorm that could go chilling right to the bones of someone new to the m-town.it shivers these window panes and greasy iron grills attached to them. The rain in this side of the country is non-stop, it may go for hours without stopping or tease you with the hope of stopping with some temporary halts every now & then. Well, It does stops meanwhile but maybe after an hour or two or maybe in the intervals of thirty minutes to three hours, but uncertain at best.

it is simply unpredictable, it is bad timed for most bikers in the place and those people who have an emergency to attend & it is certainly not- welcomed in this apartment through this open window, where the mushy smell of wet towels is already making it worse , alongside lies an old rugged cot covered with a dry bed sheet with a callous attempt gone overshot to keep it completely dry, are somehow indicating an intent of theirs’ quisling with the winds and conspiring against me.

Alongside lies my college bag, my footwear, the unwashed pillow on which I lie, is covered with my personal dry towel which was brought out there for a different purpose and there under its wet cushion are my effects – my wallet, my bike keys, a pack of crushed strepsils, a pack of crushed smokes; empty now and beside that lies my project partners’ laptop, his soldering wire loop, our college project board, useless pile of wires, spots of soldering alloy covering the dirty floor of the room and unclassified junk that was classified of his rooms’ interior decoration; classic patel, goes well with the popular brand of smokes.

As I could no more go in explaining the bizarre conditioning of this apartment, with this room leading into a haunted hall with no lighting and a distant jug of water, canned ,which is barely visible in the light coming from the apartments’ door-foot , not of a light source withing this place but from an exceeding tubelights’ luminance probably lit in the frontal corridor , but  the can was seemingly more visible sometimes in the bright thunder lightning , the water level of which I cud bet was towards the roots and probably empty by this un-godly hour of a prospective need.

while those open windows that invites pattering rain shower along with an unfriendly breeze every now and then, he lay in cadaverous state unflinching towards the cold, or the rain, or the continuous track of same musical kept on a permanent repeat;classic patel, just like the smoke brand.

alongside his bed, lies the cigarette ashtray neck-full  and tarring black with the buds that were rubbed countless times on the mans’ skull that extrapolates from its artistic design , bought from a craftsman selling in his final business hours in a Goa market rush for a very reasonable & well spent 400 bucks and with a sense of tragic-comic, it finally ended up in the apartment of my project partner that I so vividly describe and draw parallel to my condition of chronic cough that has been lasting for a year straight and rising this moment from the core of my breathe.

It had stopped for an hour and I lay in a state of bliss and placidity, as every night it would go-on for atleast two or three times without stopping for a span of fifteen minutes, the cough is dry and arose from mid-chest with no triggering symptoms. I would dare not slip my hands beneath my pillow to check if a last strepsil dose bought of late closing youth corner (a famous shop in manipal) would miraculously be there and deceive my gut feeling of another misfortunate night.

As I try to concentrate on my will to sleep and subconsciously prepare for tomorrow mornings’ viva for the mid-term presentation, the coughing starts again, but this time with an intent. it was strong, it was ever-coming and it won’t stop. The more stoical I tried to get towards its exponentially rising affect, the more it grips me from within my chest, ready to take this war out by bursting through my aching lungs, as with all I can, plead for lords’ mercy on my chest with one left arm on it while simultaneously going into a defensive curl of my spinal column in response to an excruciating pain and the other hand desperately searching under the pillow for the crushed plastic cover of my last resort which to my foolish but expected callousness was empty and well eaten long before itsactual  need and  I had completely lost the track of it that day with an ignorance towards its possible dire need and importance at one such night or the way it looked right now, it seems like the last one.

I am up at once, I look at my cadaverous room-mate, he would only compliment my unflinching short round fight with the cough and continue complementing it with a deep –sleep and deaf state of senses.the repetitive musical running on the laptop or myself coughing repeatedly,i couldnt choose which  was more psyched and ofcourse, the wind from this open-shameless window would blow me to permanent lung freeze as I was now sitting upright on the bed, now finally into an appreciable conscience of the moment, with nothing less but blood shot-watering eyes. I could feel the drizzle carried through the wind via the open window on my pale face , as it carried some droplets of chilled water; unwanted, unliked.with a more repulsive feeling than the pain itself, I got up at once and rushed to the water can in the dark distant corner, it was empty.

It was twenty minutes past three in the morning, the hospitals wont cater to a quick purchase on any medicine for cough (this is part of manipal hospital rules;no prescription,no buys) and no night-food service would be here sooner than an hour or probably won’t attend my call at this hour, i had no credits left for patience or for taking any chances.

Time was like a thorn slipping deeper in my neck and eroding the edges of my windpipe with every trickle of ungodly clock,which was shining in another distant pitch dark corner through the outsourced lighting or gleaming sometimes in the unwanted thunder lightning. My mind was at an earnest alert of a relevant mental search which somehow popped the picture of a packet of strepsils kept in my mid-shelf of hostel room, next to my class notes as I had bought them earlier in the day.

on second thoughts,the hour is dark and inappropriate to enter the hostel premises,security,campus patrol,roommate sleeping,hostel warden. however with no luxury to options or sober thinking I put on my slippers, my monsoon jacket, picked up my bike keys with a clutter of urgency and grabbed my wallet with the final scoop of left arm and started running towards the outdoor.

Through the mist, I drove like a wild child, probably the only child at that hour to these metallike roads and surely the only stupid child who cares not for emergency and before I could curse myself somemore, I was in my room and sighed for the packs of strepsils that lay mockingly still on the shelf,lay there waiting for me at this ungodly- unwanted hour of the night. i was again at ease, happy and sleepy and henceforth.

Now thereafter the project mid term viva,I was again standing outside the college premise explaining my amazing story to my project mate ,a few others joined in the buzz and I was constantly revising myself for future events but with a lighted smoke in my left hand and a feeling of happening in the moment and a feeling of numbness by the moment that I couldn’t resist but maybe tomorrow.

I could at max re-concile with myself that an ordinary cough needs a pack of strepsils, that the duration of suffering is not only ignored in my case but  unattended medically but more importantly never attended sincerely at a personal level; it was grave, it was criminal to myself. hence, I could be certain of only one thing ,that a personal lack of self -grace could be compensated by an ideolgy that supports my inveterateness to my present balance of health and hazards and most of all,of my supportive intellect full of self-serving arguments as I was in the continuum of my narration to a live audience.

I could resist upto three smokes a day and flow with  six to ten under tension. I am not a chain smoker, not even close to those numbers, however numbers matters least. I am a fitness freak, I go gyming 5 days a week, I eat healthy, I drink half litre milk ,I eat my  eight egg whites, I do my pushups and I constantly linger on this one bad habit to change the pictorial of this jig-saw puzzle that is otherwise towards my paradigm of  perfection.

.however, thinking about the dark hour, the night was long gone twelve hours ago and I was re-iterating my days work and the series of events that happen most usually, without my control over it, just like the previous night.

For physical levels of control developed and achieved, I know that I can run a mile hard and straight without stopping, I could bench 50kgs on flat for a 10 reps, I could squat 90 kgs for 10 and 100 kgs for 8 reps,i could jog sixteen rounds of my college ground at best and 8 on the worst day,i could play cricket all day without getting tired,but things have not been best for an year in the cardio department as I can’t give up lighting 2 smokes on the most constructive day atbest; that’s the irony of my control.

however,  strepsils is the genius idea that is as random as a trial and error to an unknown phenomena and non- standard conditions, which certainly is not part of the problem here but strepsils helps subside the feeling of pathos for myself and my lack of self control. its not a medicine, its far from medical prescription, and what the prescription suggested long back, was a standard cough which was long gone along with the 2-week dosage.

This was something different, it was smokers’ cough, it just won’t let me sleep sometimes, that’s a major worry as I am a big fan of sleep but that’s not the only thing that was part of the problem, but  yes definitely, it was one of most noted Of all those chronic elements that weakens my personal arguments to defend my fitness, ignorance and introspection.

this is just one of those nights’ story. There have been more, there will be more, I am stoical at best or atleast quick to temporary solutions.; self-denial is a key to recess,I take it everyday.

amen.

no smoking pledge : prologue

no smoking pledge : prologue