The distance between hearts is the closest and the farthest. Lonely people are out of place. However, everything can be fashionable. -Zhou Guoping
Spring is the season for poets and autumn is the season for philosophers. -Zhou Guoping
When vulgarity pretends to be sublime, sublime is ashamed to go out, and it hides. -Zhou Guoping
Everyone knows that death is inevitable. It's a guest who was announced to visit when we were born, and now he is approaching us day and night. However, when it knocks on our door, we feel suddenly and blame it for being the most abrupt uninvited guest. -Zhou Guoping
The only time we have is now. With the present, we have the past and the future.
———————————— Zhou Guoping
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Ganges at the end of the year
Author: Han Shaogong
Before his visit to India, an airport was burned in New Delhi, and Dengue fever broke out again. Within a few days, more than 1 people died of illness, and thousands of people were admitted to hospital for emergency treatment. The authorities had to vacate some schools and institutions as temporary hospitals. Several times on TV, the Indian military and police have been dispatched to spray drugs in the urban area, which has an atmosphere of being an enemy.
I was a little nervous about these shots, and I hurried to ask about the preventive measures against boarding. Fortunately, Hainan Island, where I live, was also popular before, and it was almost extinct only in the last ten years. But there are quite a few doctors who are more experienced in this disease. A doctor named Ling told me on the phone that there is no vaccine for Dengue fever so far, so it is impossible to take preventive shots and there is no preventive medicine. Considering that the disease is mainly transmitted by a mosquito, the only way to prevent it is to wear long clothes, trousers and stockings, and bring more anti-mosquito oil.
In late autumn in New Delhi, the temperature turns cold in the morning and evening, so long clothes, trousers and stockings are acceptable. But I didn't expect that it was still impossible to prevent mosquitoes in India by tightly wrapping the whole body and carrying all kinds of anti-mosquito drugs with me. Everything in a star-rated hotel is clean. As long as you tip more, the male waiter will have all kinds of smiles. However, no matter how many smiling faces there are, the buzzing mosquitoes can still be heard from time to time, which is frightening and makes people feel "dignified". Sometimes, several colleagues are talking and laughing, and some suspicious shrieks wander from nowhere, and everyone will inevitably turn pale and look around in a hurry, and a good topic will have to be above average and separated. Out of a Chinese habit, I certainly never let go of the floaters in front of me. Interestingly, my moves always attract the surprised and puzzled eyes of the Indians around me, as if I had done something wrong.
officials from the embassy of China also prepared anti-mosquito oil for us. Later, they told me that India is a religious country, and most people abide by the religious rules of forbidding killing, and this kind of compassion benefits mosquitoes. Mosquitoes are also life, so they can be driven away, but they must not be killed. Of course, they are not used to my bloody atrocities of making loud noises with both hands.
only then did I understand that they turned their heads again and again in surprise and doubt.
Only then did I understand the popularity of Dengue fever.
mosquitoes living in India are really happy. However, mosquitoes are happy. What about the more than 1 people who died in Dengue fever? Of course, human beings can be sad about all plants, animals and even mosquitoes, but what reason does human beings have not to be sad about their own kind? Why can you regard your own record of good deeds as more important than the life of the same kind?
In India, not only mosquitoes are happy, but all kinds of living things other than humans are also happy. On the streets of New Delhi, there are often hula monkeys jumping past you, climbing trees or walls to have a leisurely play. There are squirrels running back and forth on the road in every shade, and sometimes they swagger into your outstretched palm. There is also a flood of crows and birds, which seems to come from Tagore's transparent and dreamy prose. Waves and waves beat the sunset and meet your surprise. Wherever you go, you seem to be in a natural zoo and a fairy tale. Some public service places around you often have such fairy-tale bulletin boards: "This exhibition hall opens at sunrise and closes at sunset." This time expression of refusing clocks and watches has long been ignored by news, laws, textbooks and business documents, and it has the tone of a shepherd or prince in a fairy tale.
The earth used to be a paradise for all kinds of animals. Later, when human beings were the only ones, the landscape in many places became increasingly monotonous. I have rarely heard birds chirping in China. Those childhood chirps went out one by one, and of course they were lost to the stomachs of diners, to China people's colorful cold dishes or hot pots, steamers or ovens, and to all kinds of restaurants all over the city and countryside. People in China can really eat. I dare to eat anything but human flesh. A secular country with weak religion, a sex-addicted public without vegetarian tradition, is full of red faces and has become a common expression of interpersonal communication. People are eating one species after another almost extinct. With the development and prosperity of food culture, it seems that even loaches and frogs are hard to escape. The daughter of a relative of mine, who grew up to eight years old, can only know tadpoles in picture books.
India is also a country with a large population, but there are by no means so many restaurants that are horrible to animals in China. This, of course, makes China people who have just arrived here not used to it. Sometimes, after searching several streets, I finally found a place with the smell of fireworks, and the menu was always so simple that China diners were quite unwilling. Cattle are sacred in Hinduism. No matter how many old or fat cows there are in the wild, it is impossible for beef to enter the kitchen. Due to the influence of Islam, pork is also taboo in most restaurants. Even fish are rarely seen on the menu, which reminds me that Tibetans don't eat fish very much. I wonder if the customs of the two places are related. As you can imagine, with these items alone, the scenery on the dining table has been lost, and it is impossible to expect any other exotic meat. In this country where fasting and dieting are almost daily habits, my friends and I have to endure the same bread, bread and bread, plus chicken that is used to talk about my heart every day. After half a month, we have been in a state of semi-starvation, losing weight, and our eyeballs seem to have expanded a little.
When you swallow the cake below, you have to ask a question: Is the Indian army vegetarian? If so, were they a little overwhelmed when they took the lead? Are Indian athletes vegetarian? If so, how can we ensure their necessary nutrition and calories? How can we ensure that their physical fitness is enough to compete with the tigers and wolves who are fed with steaks and pork chops in other countries? No wonder, at the recent World Olympic Games, such a big India actually won only one medal. This sad record originally puzzled me, but now it makes me feel logical. Perhaps, vegetarians are naturally innocent-a considerable number of Indians have no fate from the beginning with all kinds of struggles and fights in the arena.
It seems more suitable for them to enter the temples of Hinduism, Islam and Buddhism, where they are calm, have no desires and thoughts, and accept their concerns and homes from the God. When they are old, they will probably become statues of philosophers like all the old Indians I have seen, scattered under the eaves or intersections in urban and rural areas. No matter how poor they are, no matter how skinny their bodies are and how ragged their clothes are, no matter whether they are begging or visiting their neighbors, they are self-respecting, calm, kind, wise, thoughtful and very familiar with your expression. Their eyes have a bright insight into the world.
The outcome of a medal has caused controversy in India, which has caused some Indians to analyze and criticize sports policies, management systems and cultural traditions. Sure enough, an Indian friend said to me proudly, "We don't need a gold medal."
"why?"
"Gold medal is the depravity of sports. This kind of sports, driven by huge bonuses and at the expense of many athletes' disabilities, is becoming more and more news-based and commercialized. What is not degeneration? " He once again stressed, "We don't need a gold medal, we just need a healthy and harmonious life."
When we said these words, we were at the gate of a theater in Bangalore, waiting for the performance of a local traditional play to begin. As the 1996 Miss World beauty pageant is being held in this city, they are also protesting against this vulgar western farce.
we talk in English. To tell the truth, English has been indonized here, and it's hard to understand. All the voiceless consonants are hard-voiced, and the difference with British and American English is probably not less than the difference between Mandarin and Hunan dialect. Our delegation's interpreter, surnamed Niu, was born in English, and slept in the northwest for many years. He was also a little nervous when listening to this English, and his face was at a loss from time to time. I am certainly more inferior than the group. Fortunately, Indians have no obstacles in listening to our English, and the language exchange with unbalanced income and expenditure can generally continue. The bigger problem is that we don't have a Hindi interpreter, so it's difficult to go deep into the bottom of society here, and it's difficult to know more with gestures. English is only one of the official languages here, belonging only to the upper class and the highly educated, while ordinary people mostly speak Hindi or other native languages-there are as many as twenty kinds of "Putonghua" in India. This country has always been divided in language, including ethnic division and class division. There is no Qin Shihuang in their history, and there are different people and books in the main society so far. They didn't have the revolutionary surgery in 1949, and the separation system between nobles and untouchables has remained the same. That is to say, they have not experienced the great destruction of culture, nor the great unification of culture. I don't know. Is it a social rift that hinders their language unification? Or is the crack in language hindering the eradication of their class and the integration of the nation?
Under the guidance of English, you can only enter some kind of English India: Parliament, newspapers, museums, happy families of civil servants, world-class scientific research bases and universities, as well as independent, knowledgeable and elegant intellectuals who directly watch British TV and read American newspapers every day. But just around these English-speaking islands, just outside the gates of these elites, it is a broken and broader reality. Streets are aging, cars are aging, fences and ports are aging, sunshine and fallen leaves are aging, and even the police are mostly aging. These white-haired old people are copying wooden sticks, and they have no temper. When they see a car boldly violating the rules, they just slap it on the ass. Many times, they hug a wooden stick or a lost sleeve gun, fall asleep in the shade, and let the cars scurry around the street to cover the sky, the sun and the moon. All the buses had simply pulled down the doors, and the towers inside could not be squeezed, so they piled up on the top of the car and looked into the wind, elated. Driving into the Ganges Bridge Square in Calcutta in such a free or even too free car, you may feel that the world has collapsed with a bang. You can imagine that any house in front of you is in ruins. Imagine that it is not citizens who are surging in the street, but millions of nomadic tribes are marching into the city and camping everywhere. Members of these tribes live by the roadside with tents, cook with rocks and bathe in the rain. Too much sunlight is deposited on their dark backs. It seems that they don't have to wear anything or eat anything. Just stuff a little noodles into the mouth, and it seems that they can muddle through the day and grow their flesh. Of course they beg, and generally speaking they always beg successfully. Their success is not because India has many restaurants, but because India has many temples. They take the moral tradition that Indians are used to giving alms as their survival premise and religious compassion as their stable source of food and clothing.
Faced with these thrilling scenes, what can old policemen do without sleeping? What if there are several times or dozens of times more policemen? Fortunately, there is no reason for people to despair. Although the traffic is chaotic, it is orderly in chaos; Although the market is dilapidated, there is no danger in it. Their doors and windows don't have an iron cage-like security net, which is enough to be a sign of good public security and to make China people ashamed. When outsiders come here, not only will they not see three or five groups of furtive people making trouble in the streets, not only will they not encounter bag cutting and necklace grabbing, not only will they not see pornography and forced buying and selling, but even the loud quarrels are hard to find. Indians are surprisingly peaceful and serene in their eyes, and they are modest and polite to others. Finally, people can almost believe that it doesn't even matter if the old policemen here sleep.
a nation that doesn't need security doors is a nation with deep dignity. Perhaps the peaceful tradition of Hinduism, as well as Gandhi's nonviolence, is most likely to grow in the cleanliness and gentleness of this nation. I have seen a movie called "The Biography of Gandhi" and have always regarded Gandhi as a mysterious figure in my heart. This skinny old man is always bald and barefoot, spinning and growing his own grain. In order to protest against the unreasonable salt tax, he once refused to eat British salt with men, women and children, and walked all the way to the seaside to dry and filter the salt himself. His historic feat of overthrowing the colonial rule of the British Empire did not require troops or huge sums of money. Once he made up his mind, all that remained was to leave the house silently. March for peace. He walked from one village to another, from one plain to another, and the team behind him snowballed and grew stronger until it covered the whole horizon, almost a whole nation. When they met the blockade of the army, bayonets and sticks, they would rather sacrifice than resist. They just silently stepped forward and let themselves fall bloodily under bayonets and sticks. The first row fell, and the second row went up again; The second row fell, and the third row went up ... until all the journalists present closed their eyes, until all the oppressors' eyes and hands were shaking, until they fled these unarmed people in horror and finally handed over power.
Gandhi was finally assassinated by his compatriots. Some of his relatives and successors also died in the assassination. In a sense, these successful assassinations can't explain anything else, but just prove that this nation lacks experience and ability to prevent violence. Since they have never resisted the military police, they don't know much about how to deal with assassination.
As the soul of India, Gandhi is not like Lenin in Russia, Mao Zedong in China, Tito in Yugoslavia and Guevara in Latin America. He achieved India's independence without a bullet, which is one of the political miracles and myths in the 2th century. Perhaps the most incomprehensible thing about this kind of politics is precisely what Indians can understand most: it is a Hindu politics, a vegetarian and vagrant politics, which comes from Gandhi's deep understanding of India. The theory and practice of this "non-violence and non-cooperation" movement is nothing but a genius to a poor and weak nation.