When Albert Camus Met Lord Krishna!
Introduction
It was a chilly winter evening. Camus had gone down the street to the closest cafe, like every other day, sat at his usual table, like every other day, ordered his coffee, like every other day, and started reading the newspaper, the same one he reads every other day. On his way back from the cafe, as he entered through the baroque doors of the hotel he was put up in, the manager, Mr. Renne de Praxis observed unfamiliar despair on his face.
Camus had stayed at the Grand Hotel de Lille for quite some time now and used that as his base for all his writings. In fact, all his best sellers were written there itself. Every other day, he would always wear nonchalance just as well as he would wear his trousers. However, for the first time in his life, this day was not like every other day. Renne could see that in his eyes as Camus walked up to him to ask him to send someone to collect his dirty laundry.
“I shall send Ms. Silva immediately. Is everything okay Monsieur Camus? You don’t look too good to me.” enquired the ever so faithful Renne.
“Oh, nothing Renne. I am just lost in thought,” replied Camus, realising how the temperance had vanished off his face.
Camus reached his room and poured himself a glass of water as he let the events of the day run by him. It all started with that copy of Combat (an outlawed French Newspaper of which Camus was the editor) that was kept on his table while he was sipping his coffee. A sharp young man, of dark complexion, dressed in the clothes of a normal city dweller walked up to him and asked if he could borrow the newspaper for a trice. After chugging down the glass of water, Camus sat down on his cushioned chair, leaned his head backward, and let out a long grunt. He gently shut his eyes as he recalled the events of the day to himself. Today, he had just been confronted by a man who called himself God. That sharp young man was God, he called himself Krishna.
The Confrontation
Krishna: Thanks for the paper, Albert.
Camus: (confused) How did you know my name?
Krishna: (smiling calmly) I know a lot about you, Albert. I have read all your work you know.
Camus: Oh is it? I am honoured. What’s your name young man?
Krishna: I am Krishna. I come from the region southeast of the Hindu Kush mountains.
Camus: (getting interested) It’s a British colony. Am I right?
Krishna: Yes, indeed you are. We will be free soon though. I know it.
Camus: So, what brings you here my Hindu [1] friend?
Krishna: I am a God. I am here to spread the word of God to the world. [2]
Camus: (laughing loudly) You must be joking! You don’t even look the part right now.
Krishna: Don’t go on the exterior, my young friend, for they can be deceiving. Judge me not by what I flaunt on my outside, but by what I flaunt on my inside. Ask me what you truly want to know, and you shall see my true colours.
Camus: You speak quite well Krishna but no, even if you are a God, I still don’t have any question for you. Thank you.
Krishna: (almost baffled) How can you not Camus? Do you not have questions? Don’t you want to know who created the universe? What matter is made of? What happens to you after you die and about your afterlife? What about your own future? Doesn’t that glimmer curiosity in you?
Camus: No. None of this interests me. What interests me is my today. I have always found existence to be absurd in its ways. A meaningless abyss, if I were to call it. I don’t desire to give it a rational meaning when I know that there is none that can come from logic. Death is the only truism to exist and the only thing I know. There is no escaping the inevitable grasp of death. Life, in general is too much for me and I don’t understand almost any of it. However, I am fine with that limited understanding, because it is based on truisms and truisms only. This is my revolt.
Krishna: Then why do you live Camus if your existence is all so meaningless?
Camus: And you assumed that not assigning any meaning to life directly translates to declaring it as not one worth living? I live because that is the only way I get to exercise my freedom and be truly free.
Krishna: I don’t quite follow you young one.
Camus: You see, every human is free in some way or the other. A slave is free as he doesn’t have a choice, thereby free of all repercussions, cause he has to face none. Always free from the shackles of choice, he never chooses what to do next, and so, he never worries what if he did wrong, he simply does what his master instructs him. Similarly, a theist is free from the absurd as he never questions life’s purpose. His God has told him all too well what his purpose is. Every religion’s doctrine tells the person how to conduct themselves in society, how to behave, what is right, what is wrong. While that’s not freedom in terms of freedom from actions, as the idea of a God watching you prevents you from behaving like your true carnal self, but your mind, it’s liberated to not think about the absurd. It’s free from such thoughts. Religion offers you the freedom of not pondering over what is right, wrong, the purpose of life, who creates the universe, why should I do the right thing, and all such questions that prop up in our head. I however exercise a different sort of freedom. I have a freedom that I get to live every day. Not bound by the moral code of a God, I get to live every day on my terms, the way I want to live. The law of God doesn’t govern me, neither does the law of the State. I am free to be me every day, and I be me every day. All my actions are my choice, and not guided by anyone else. That’s my freedom, and every day, I get to exercise it. This according to me is the greatest freedom of all. The freedom of my mind and my body. Thus, the moment I commit suicide, I take away my freedom from myself.
Krishna: Well, if you have no morals, then why don’t you take a knife, and kill me?
*Mystically produces a knife and hands it to Camus*
Camus: For I have no reason to kill you.
*Placing the knife gently on the table*
Krishna: And what if I do give you a reason to kill me?
Camus: I just told you, my freedom is my freedom of action. I am free to act the way I want, irrespective of the world. If I act in response to your action, is it really me exercising my freedom? Moreover, I may not have any morals according to you, but I am an integral man. I know my actions, and I know their consequences. Integrity does not need a doctrine. If I were to ever kill you, I shall never deny my action and take full responsibility for it. Whatever happens as a consequence of my actions, I shall face it with integrity and honour. Lastly, my action of killing you, it would still be meaningless. It will do me no good at all. The harm that you inflict onto me, has already been inflicted. By inflicting pain on you, I achieve nothing, just like I would not achieve anything by not inflicting on you any pain.
Krishna: Then why do anything at all in the first place? If your action has no purpose, it makes no difference, to you or to the world, then why do you do anything at all?
Camus: Oh all-knowing Krishna, do you know what I do?
Krishna: Why yes, of course, you write.
Camus: No. I create. See, in today’s world, everyone is a Sisyphus. Eve…
Krishna: (Interrupting) You mean the Greek King condemned to push a boulder up a mountain for eternity as a punishment for his notorious nature?
Camus: Yes. That man. If you take his life after he was punished, his life was him pushing a rock up a mountain, only to see it fall again, and then, him, restarting his journey.
Krishna: But…, um, how is his life similar to those in the present mortal world?
Camus: You see her? (He points at a woman who was painting a portrait of a man) She sits there every day. To reach here, she walks the same road every day, carrying the same few colours and every day, and paints the same number of men every day, to make ends meet at her home. After her tiring day, she goes back home to rest, makes love to her husband, tends to her kids, and then sleeps. The next morning, she repeats.
Krishna: But the artist has some salvation, she has a purpose, a way to end her cycle. She will receive heaven, if not moksha for all her work. [3] There is no escape for Sisyphus.
Camus: And there is no escape for me as well because I chose the highest form of freedom. I have no heaven, I have no hell. There is no final judgment that awaits my actions. At least up until now. I am not deluded by this false hope. If there is one thing that I insist one should renounce, it is hope.
Krishna: But how does this answer my question? Why do you perform actions when they have no purpose.
Camus: So yes, coming now to me, the creator. I am a creator just like everyone else on this planet is. Artists create art, writers create stories, and actors create drama. All these acts are ephemeral nonetheless. Now, I, if I am to write a story… I get into the life of the character I am trying to write, wear his shoes for a month, see things from his perspective, and then eventually finish my story. After this, I get into the shoes of the next character that I am going to write about. After all this charade do I still feel that my life lacks a purpose? Yes. Was the charade consequenceless? No. All the shoes that I have thus far worn, they do leave some impression on me and shape me a certain way. I repeat myself, there is no point to all of it, but some changes, which are as meaningless as the act, they do spring up nonetheless within me.
Now, when men realise that life, in its entire totality, is meaningless, not one worth living, some of them choose to end it themselves, others, choose to rationalise that belief with some rationalism. If I were to use the concept of existentialism, then that rationalism comes from a leap of faith called belief in God. [4] To me, however, that is another form of suicide, it’s a philosophical suicide. Thus I spend my entire life in the contemplation of the absurd, and all my creations, reflect the same. They are not intended to make a dent in the world, cause I know, even if I do manage to make a dent in this world, it would be meaningless to me. I contemplate, and what I contemplate, I create. I create my passion.
Krishna: Aha! (Says loudly with that gotcha feeling) So you do have a purpose, it is to create your passion.
Camus: No. I contemplate on the absurd, and that’s all I do. I contemplate by my characters, but all I still do is mere contemplation. With my creations, I do not hope to make the world contemplate the absurd with me, nor do I intend to be awarded. My creations are as ephemeral as a ruler’s kingdom. Genghis Khan once created the long stretching Mongolian empire beyond half of the continent. However, today, how much of it really stands? No creation stands the shackles of time Krishna, and no creation can. I have forever dispelled this hope of making a mark on the world cause if not the next 100, then in the next 1000 years, it will be lost and even if it isn’t, after 1000 years to your death, how would it matter to a buried and a decomposed you.
Krishna: So you contemplate and figure out the absurd?
Camus: Yes. Precisely.
Krishna: You know, I too say the same to all my disciples. We all are humans, and we all are above animals. What really puts us above them? It’s our brain, and thus, we have to work on it. In fact, one of the forms of worship is expanding your mental horizons. If and when you develop your brain, it is as good as praying to me. It’s only through true contemplation one can free themselves from dualities, and eternal fixation in the unreal truth, and material gains.
Camus: (Surprised) Really! You ask your followers to contemplate in order to pray to you?
Krishna: Yes misguided one. That’s what I preach. There are 3 ways to attain God and Nirvana. This is one of them. It’s called Buddhi yoga.
Camus: What are the others?
Krishna: Well there is Bhakti yoga, and then there is karma yoga. In Bhakti Yoga, you devote your entire self to my prayers and my worship. You renounce all things flowery and you ground yourself within me. You devote your entire life to meditation and you meditate on me day in and day out. That is how you get closer to me.
Camus: And the other one?
Krishna: You would like this one in particular. It’s called karma yoga, and it’s about doing your duties.It tells one to do their duty and to do it well. To not think of what lies beyond this very act. I tell all my followers that while they have the right to perform their duty, they have no right to the fruits of their actions. In fact, according to Hinduism, duty is the highest form of worship.
Camus: Fascinating indeed. Tell me more about this Karma Yoga.
Krishna: So basically, there is no such thing as no action. You are always performing some action. Now, if your action is directed towards fulfilling your duty, it is the right action and it shall bring you closer to me, if the action is done in my name. You see, I, being the God, am in charge of who gets what. If you, say write a book, write it like you always do, not expecting anything in return. Neither fame nor riches. Dedicate your actions to me and to me only. Write a book as a worship to me, and forget all about the things that await you as a consequence of the book. Let me take care of that.
Camus: Okay, however, what if I need to do something that’s unethical in order to fulfil my duties?
Krishna: Was it done as a prayer to me?
Camus: Um, yes, let’s say that it was.
Krishna: Yes, then that’s acceptable to me. If your action is directed towards fulfilling your duty, and is done as a service to me, then for me, you are not a sinner but a good man. Do you know, if you ever read Mahabharata, you shall realise that of all the 5 protagonists and that one antagonist, the antagonist is rewarded with Moksha first, and only one of the 5 protagonists initially are offered Moksha. While there were other reasons for me to keep the 4 protagonists from entering my presence, the antagonist received my gifts because he was a fighter and that was his assigned duty, and he died performing his duty. Thus, despite all his evil deeds, he received the highest form of salvation, the moksha.
Camus: What is this moksha that you talk of Krishna?
Krishna: Well, in the beginning of our conversation, didn’t you mention something regarding life being too much for you? Moksha, is the spiritual acknowledgment of this fact that your life full of misery and suffering. Life is a hell in itself, why do we need another one after this?
Camus: (chuckling) Quite right!
Krishna: Moksha is the eternal release from life. If you live your life in a lost way, unknown to what is right, what is your duty, without doing the right thing, you shall be reborn into this earth. It’s only when you have lived your life as a service to me, either through Buddhi yoga, Bhakti Yoga or Karma Yoga, you enter moksha with me. There you are blessed in my presence and company and that’s how you attain freedom from the constant cycle of reincarnation.
Camus: It’s so interesting, how the first principle [5] for both of us is so different but how we both arrived at relatively similar conclusions. But then again, there is one thing in this that I really find off-putting here, the hope. You give all your followers a hope of Moksha in order to make them do things. This very hope is what I wish to renounce which is why I still choose absurdism over any other philosophical school of thought.
Krishna: I knew your answer all along little one. I see light in your eyes, and I don’t want to taint that spark with the colour of religion. You shall be who you are, and whatever awaits you in the afterlife, you shall face it with integrity I believe, as it is a consequence of your action. Your action of renouncing God. However, before I bid you farewell, I would like to tell you that all the examples of men you have given me, and the world in your books, are that of artists, engineers, conquerors, kings and prince. What about those who are brought up in penury? Can they renounce God? You do not need hope, for you have food on your table and a pillow under your head. You don’t need salvation from anyone else, cause you salvate your hunger with food, your lust with sex, and your integrity with the bold logic of absurdism. Though, what about the man, that sleeps on an empty stomach with his wife angry at him for showing up again, empty-handed? What of them? How do they salvate themselves?
*Scene ends.*
Epilogue!
An exhausted Camus walked to his almirah to hang his coat. Before hanging, as a part of his daily ritual, he stroked his pockets to check out for some loose change. As his hands entered the edge of his pocket, he heard a rustling noise of paper. He took it out of his pocket and found a black note neatly folded. On the outermost fold, it was written, ‘To Camus, from a friend, Krishna.’ Camus was bewildered. He couldn’t recall Krishna coming close to him, let alone his coat and his pocket. Anyway, he carried forward to unfold the note and on it he found a golden word of advice written.
[1]: Reference to the location and not the Country
[2]: According to Gita, no godman should preach/spread the name of God. It’s not their duty to do so. Here, however, I made an exception, because a) We are not talking of Godmen, but a God himself. b) Creative freedom. Deal with it.
[3]: We are assuming that she is a Christian and not a Hindu
[4]:Søren Kierkegaard is the father of existential philosophy and he asks everyone to take a leap of faith and believe in God in order to satiate their desire for answers.
[5]: A first principle is a basic proposition or assumption that cannot be deduced from any other proposition or assumption. In philosophy, first principles are from First Cause attitudes and taught by Aristotelians, and nuanced versions of first principles are referred to as postulates by Kantians.