A few days ago, an indigenous woman was found raped, tortured and killed by the side of a road in a nearby village. Justice was taken into the hands of the villagers, who captured the individuals, lynched one to death and immolated the other two under the cool shade of a tree. Screaming videos of the immolations were sold at the market today for 10pesos which the villagers themselves had taken with their cameras and cellphones. “What do you think of the act?” I ask. “It’s good. That way other potential rapists know what’s in store for them” someone answers.
A few days ago, my father’s colleague received a call that his 21-year-old daughter (a school mate of mine) was seen on the street with her child’s father, something that had been forbidden to her. Today her dead body was found dumped under a highway bridge, 20mins from town. I saw a picture of the alleged killer on the paper today, and I know the kid--a town acquaintance.
One, a victim to strangers, the other, a victim to a lover. Both cases are surrounded by glee and hatred, a roman circus of emotions draped in gladiator armor, clashing their weapons in the name of Justice and Love.
In an hour-long bus to the state capital, I was stuck watching music videos of a famous mexican band I used to like, called ManĂ¡. The bus was playing video after video of theirs and I was impressed by the portrayal of women in the videos: seductive, wild-looking, half naked felines in heat that couldn’t stop rubbing their hair in steamy desperation. I could hardly tear my eyes away into the cool night clouds. As the bus arrived to the capital city, a handful of hard men stepped down into the brothel outskirts of town, while the other couldn’t seem wait to get home to screw their wives. If this is an overestimation, I do not overestimate the hunger with which they watched women on the street walk by.
Eddy Murphy’s daughter featured on the entertainment section of an online newspaper today. She’s a 23-year-old model in a bathing suit caressing the trunk of some brand new convertible car, sticking her butt out for the camera to capture her curvatures reflected in the swimming pool water. She spoke about how fun the modeling scene is behind the camera, the adrenaline rush, her wishes to becoming an actress. Ironically, the article talked about models soaking cotton balls in fruit juice and ingesting it to create a satiated feeling in their stomach. The cotton balls actually disintegrate and leave the body without being absorbed at all.
What kind of a world is this? What are we doing wrong? Why are there parties when Osama Bin Laden is killed? How does an immolation become a celebration? How can we applaud when someone is condemned to a death penalty, to a life sentence is jail? How do we get such kicks out of watching or inducing fear, pain and suffering? Why do we celebrate violence as a so-called act of justice?
Machik says,
“It is more important to meditate with a loving mind on a single being who demonstrates hostility and anger toward you than it is to meditate with love on a hundred beings who are affectionate and thoughtful of you. It is more important to remember for a moment that all conditioned things are impermanent, and not get mentally involved in the activities of this life, than it is to undergo hardships because you desire the fruits of worldly life. It is more important to tame, even a little bit, the gongpo spirit of ego-fixation than it is to tame a hundred evil demons out there. It is more important to recognize for a moment the thought of one’s own mortality than to pursue education and erudition for a hundred years desiring to be wise and famous. It is more important to remember for a moment to dedicate to sentient beings and to practice virtue while maintaining humility than it is to practice virtue and engage in Dharma for a hundred years desiring to be learned, righteous, and noble, and to gain profit and fame. All of those are the dharma system of this beggar woman.
The devils that those people avert and exorcise through hate-filled wrathful activity I draw in through the power of love and compassion and gather around me as a retinue.”


No comments:
Post a Comment