When I was young, I read about the Mughal empire, the British empire and the two World Wars as that was my history syllabus. Then I grew up and travelled around the world. In Macedonian chronicles, I found Alexander’s historians praising the great saints, none greater than Kalanos or Kalan Maharishi which inspired and healed their monarch.
When I travelled to south-east, I found the greatest temple complexes right out of my fantasies, which remain as but a flicker yet grander then anything one can consciously conceive.
I travelled to the remotest parts of the world and found temples constructed in a manner defying the laws of physics, in temperatures so extreme that would degenerate the body at a cellular level.
And I wondered about these omitted adventurers, explorers and heroes – what odysseys they must have had. Theirs was a history I would have loved to learn, maybe even celebrate. But alas this would never be, as history is written by the victors, twisted, manipulated and manufactured, easily malleable with synthetic syllables – all to fulfil some lunatic’s ballyhoo.
And as I walk amongst my gravely misinformed and brainwashed generation, all in their hypnotic subterfuge, each one with their own version of bedazzled chronological events with colossal plot holes, challenging the very basics of common sense, I cannot but stumble to a grim realization that alas the heroes are gone.
But this leads me to a grander realization why is there such desperation to defend one’s version of history? Why need such heroes? Can it be that looking at the present, one becomes so hopeless that the only solace is an escape to a improbable but magnificent past.
Can it be that the utter failure of one’s choices be redeemed by some form of geographic or genetic association to a mythic legend. If so, then maybe the scriptures are right.
Man lives in maya (illusion) but here we create our own illusion, confusion and maybe even concussion, banging our head on walls trying to find meaning in myth and life.
Now, imagine a world without fanatical worshippers of synthetic heroes, a world where logic leads homo sapiens to an elementary realization that maybe just the history that we swear by is nothing but a form of primitive yet ‘affective’ marketing, that somewhere in the vault of the chronological chronicles, maybe a clown broke in and led us to be part of a practical joke that will last eons, a joke whose punchline states that someday someone will come and save you, that heroes had not a superior strategy, nor an intellectual advantage, neither scientific know how, but just a mocking celestial entity atop Olympus to steer him to victory. Now That’s what I call a joke.
And just like a comedian becomes cognizant to the gradual depleting humor to his recurring yet number one joke, he must one day shelf it lest he lose his audience. We too must retire our version of histories and heroes as that is the day we will realize only one remains and that is us.
The only true hero which the earth will ever see is the one that you may become. And the fact remains that one is either the victim, crying out for the savior or one becomes the savior through the blessings of the divine gift which resides in one’s cranium.
Only with this realization can humanity truly save itself that no one is coming, no one came, the heroes rose from amongst us and the heroes we need will awaken in the crowd that you see surrounding you.
Will you be one of them is a fate that remains for you to decide and to wake up to. History is dead. Only the present holds meaning and purpose. The best part is that only the present is in our hands. How we use it – either defending our mythic tails, condemning all with different views or rising to the need of the hour and becoming a hero, not of words but actions – will decide the fate of mankind.
It is time to give ourselves to the present, to the world to create.
The earth needs heroes, not to cross the oceans but purify them, not to burn forests but to protect them, not to hunt animals, but save them. Heroes, not in heaven, but on earth for maybe this is all that our species has. Heroes that not quote what their ancestors have done but who ask what can we do for Mother Earth and our fellow man, heroes who do not wait to be saved by idols of history but who become the saviors to be idolized by the history of the future.
After all that’s what I heard once long ago, maybe the books do have some sense in them after all.
God helps those who help themselves.

Bless you Namah shivay