Suicide is always disturbing. May it be beautiful Jiah Khan or Viveka Babajee or even the forlorn Gurudutt, or the anonymous boy who jumps off from the terrace of a building after faring badly in his exams. Within the inner walls of the soul, some people live with a locked door to which the key melts as soon as the lever of that lock clicks. The walls of this inner sanctum are transparent but totally sound proof. People from both sides see each other, but none hears the other.
But Robin Williams was a comedian! That is the starkest truth about the whole matter. Not even a sense of humour saves you once you once you slip into the abyss of melancholy. Not fame, not money, not even a sense of humour.
Robin Williams, with his actor friends, Whoopi Goldberg and Bill Crystal started a huge charity called Comic Relief Inc., a charity that raised funds for the homeless. It would seem that there is a cure for homelessness, but none for hopelessness.
Is there a way out? I don’t know. More often that not, we look for simplistic solutions to a very complex problem.
There is no simplistic solution. It is a dark world outside, but there may be a darker world inside which we all battle everyday, each moment. The only ray of light I see is in love. Love everything. That is why I find Kusumagraj, the Dnyanpeeth Award winning Marathi poet, a lighthouse. In his poem, ‘Prem Yog’ (प्रेमयोग) he advocates loving the fire of jealousy in Kansa’s heart as much as we ought to love Radha’s affectionate, tender breast. Because, writes Kusumagraj, Love is the essence of the human civilisation, the conclusion of our history, and the sole hope for tomorrow.
I pay my respects to Robin Williams who died a tragic death, but not before creating moments of happiness in the lives of many like me.
© Kaushal S. Inamdar, 2014