The death of a fanatic

Chandrasekhara sat on the floor with papers strewn all around him. He was shaking terribly and had a swollen eye. Dazedly he wondered what had happened in the last few minutes. Nothing made sense. He strained to get up and headed to the washroom in his 2 room house that had almost fallen apart after his assailants had entered and beaten him up. Too frail to give back or protect himself, he had been so powerless that the hefty men had hesitated to hit him too hard.

He was too scared to go out to see a doctor about his injuries. He huddled up on his cot and tried to sleep. But his heart continued to bang and his body felt like it had been thrown down a cliff. He wondered what had triggered the cruel attack on his life. He had never meant anyone any harm in his life. But he had some principles that had cost him a lot.

He loved his language and culture. He was known for his fluency in Kannada, his vocabulary and his wit in speech and writing. His flawless Kannada was marveled at and praised by many.
He had written several books in Kannada. They had been greatly appreciated by people who could still read and understand the language in its true form, because over the years the language had deteriorated. He attributed this to the unwillingness of parents to allow their children to "waste" their time on Kannada. Even in his tired and pain-ridden state now he shook with anger when he thought of all this.

People thought he was a fanatic. He had a profound love for Kannada and that should have been in everyone who had it for their mother tongue. It was but natural. That is why he had been actively involved in spreading the growth and the return of the most beautiful language in the world. He had been responsible for all the public transport and public offices, streets and bus stands having only Kannada lettering on them. He had wanted Kannada to be everywhere. And he had succeeded partially. He had not succeeded in making advertisers write in Kannada. They preferred to write Kannada words in English. It irked him terribly. It was worse than English lettering. He had wanted to change that and went about doing what it would take to make these ad-makers write in beautiful Kannada. After all, it was for their good. It would help improve their business obviously.

Fanatics were those people that went after money. They were those people who lied and flattered and messed up other people's lives for the sake of living in luxury and with a lot of money. They had sold their souls and hearts for the sake of it. Changing to Kannada meant that these people would have to spend money on re-writing boards. It was but a measly amount really. That was not the reason Chandrashekhara had been getting death-threats. The ad-makers had thought that he was after their money. What ridiculous rubbish! What did money mean any way. They had offered to buy him. When he had refused any price they mentioned they had taken the next step and that was to threaten him. He was not one to give up so easily. After all it was the question of his pride for his language. That was what drove Chandrashekhara to hold on to his position over the issue. In spite of the bruises that his body bore, he held on to his beliefs. He pressed the right people to do what it took to ensure that all ads were in Kannada and no other language.
That evening Chandrashekhara was found dead in a dark alley. He had been bludgeoned to death.

Well, Chandrashekhara was probably wrong and foolish in what he did. It is up to you to decide for yourself.But the truth is that humans understand only devotion to money. So much so that they offer money to the gods and goddesses that they worship. As though it were of any use. They scrimp and save and kill for every paisa. They don't think before kicking up a fuss over a rupee that was owed to them. They rate other human beings based on how much money they have or had or will have. They think of, talk of, dream of, work for, die for, kill for, scream for money. That is natural to man. That is acceptable. In fact the lack of devotion to money is unnatural and unthinkable - an offence. Any other devotion - however mild or extreme, restrained or enthusiastic - is termed fanaticism.

Entirely a figment of my overactive imagination. And apologies if you have been subjected to my long tirades against the use of Kannada here in B'lore. This story just struck me and I found myself telling myself that I was being a fanatic myself and that I just need to open my mind a little more. So it is the death of this fanatic.