- Man in fool’s paradise lives far away from reality
- Instead of renouncing this world, it is better to face the bitter facts
- In fool’s paradise, clear thinking vanishes
- The radiating joy of practical thinker
- Happiness springing from discharging one’s duty
Living in a fool’s paradise makes a man blind to the realities of life. It brings relief only to the weaker sense. I do not believe in blind happiness, which nourishes itself on false fancies. The man who steers his ships across the ocean of life through any other chart than that of truth is struck by the tempest. Arnold has drawn his picture under the figure of a helmsman.
The lightning bursts is seen
Only a driving wreck
And the pale master on his spar strewn deck
With anguished face and flying hair
Grasping the rudder hard
Still bent to make some port he knows not where
Still standing for some false, impossible shore
Ad sterner comes the roar
Of sea and wind and through the deepening gloom
Fainter and fainter wreck and helmsmen loom
And he too disappears, and comes no more
The man in Fool’s paradise lives far away from town. Like the Sufi and the lover he rots in hill without gown and crown. He does not act. He only thinks and thinks. And every moment in life he ruins his self. He mutilates his body. He flights from act. He leaves the practical life. He yearns and burns but even in youth he never earns an honorable living for life’s unhappy turns. I believe it is more worthy to face the grim facts of this world than to renounce this world. Religion does not teach us to retreat into the desert far away but it teaches us the way of life of serving Man and swaying. Matter, I believe that life always means to achieve something and how possible it is except by doing something. We act and live. We live and act. This is how we can respect life. If we do not act, we do not live. Some persons, who only contemplate also renounce man’s world in the end. They retreat to the hills from the world of man, leaving Man alas the prey of man. Fool’s paradise is a terrible hell. How I can live happily in this hell, which breeds nothing but pestilence.
In Fool’s paradise, clear thinking vanishes. Confusion is born. Its dweller becomes the victim of vain hopes. He lives on mere sparkling hopes and dies fast. He is arrested in self-delusion. He forgets that mere wishing and magic words will not suffice to achieve the comforts of life. He dreams and drifts but it caught in a web of visionary pleasures, which give him less joy and more troubles. How a practical thinker like me can feel happiness in this dreamland.
The practical thinker radiates joy and sunshine. He dispels fog and gloom. He carries the message of hope and power from door to door. He heals the wounds of man. He removes the scar of the moon. His vital act emulates self. He lives to elevate man. He turns rubbish into gold. He adds a new beauty to the beautiful universe while on the other hand; the inmate of the Fool’s paradise desolates his self. Let alone becoming useful to others, he ruins his own self. He mutilates his own body. He lives alone and is unable to win friendship, influence and power in society. He dissipates his energy and fritters away his time on vain thinking and thus breeds ugliness in his life. How man like me who is a great lover of beauty will be happy in Fool’s paradise.
It is accepted truth that true happiness spring from discharging one’s duty. It is a responsibility that enkindles man to act. The daydreamer is blind to responsibility. He does not act. How a man like me who believes that life is to act can live happily in a Fool’s paradise. When the storms of misfortune come, the daydreamer wails and weeps. He does not cope with the strains of life like a man. He takes refuge in a garden corner and pleases himself by some wrong notion. He revels in gloom and is arrested in the mire. How a man like me who is born to weather the storm, which is born to wrest triumph from the defeat would be happy in golden dreams, which end in sorrow.
I am born to create a new world where time wasters are not allowed. I am here to create my own paradise where happiness dwells and the whole valley is pregnant with the rich notes of the following song:
Enough of pirs and priests
Enough of amulets, and charms
Now holy crusade
Now shouts of knights
Enough of sanctuaries and shrines
Enough of rosaries and beads,
Now trenches and barracks
Now gory battlefields
In the name of God’
For the fame of God’