The world’s reeking of them and most of them are fat to the extent that if you gathered them altogether on one side of the planet and made them all jump at the same time it would make a difference to the orbit of the Earth. Many think of them as filthy or creepy, or self-serving. Many think of them as rather smart to be able to get around strict political laws and regulations and counter-corruption. Me, I don’t care.
I’ve given up hope in politicians and national welfare and the whole handy-dandy ‘All for one, one for all’ thing. This is in fact a fitting place to add that ‘They don’t make ‘em like they used to.’. The politicians of the past, a mere 40 years back, a nothingth of the planet’s age, were men of honor. Men of dignity. Men of Courage. But most of all, they were men. Not self-serving and violent animals. Abraham Lincoln, Charles DeGaule and the like. But the one person who has affected me the most, more than any of the other great politicians and more than his peers is the man who fought a long, long war of independence and lived to become the first Prime minister of India.
What awes me the most out of his many, many fascinating traits was the vastness of his mental horizon, the infinite nature of his wisdom, his limitless hunger for knowledge. What made me his fan and gave me much insight on his life is a series of letters he wrote to his daughter while he was in prison. Hundreds of letters about the history of the world and life in general. While most of us stop and curse history after learning the superficial attributes of our respective nations’ pasts, his writings have shown me that he knew about more worlds than one would care to acquire knowledge about. He studied because he loved it and I consider that to be one of his most beautiful teachings. A lesson taught through action.
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