The Che and Cho in Us

The past fortnight, two men in far-off, foreign lands have had a profound impact on my life.

Ernesto Guevara de la Serna and Cho Seung-Hui.Two men from two different worlds, two different eras, with two distinct agendas. Two men who died so young.

As I sat on the banks of the magnificent Brahmaputra, watching the sun set on the horizon, I often wondered about the contrasting lives – and possible motivations which prompted them to lead the life they eventually did – of two men who picked up the gun to make such contrasting statements.

Two men who chose to converge on my life at a time when, to the casual eye, I had elevated river-gazing to an art form. But in reality I would spend hours staring hard into the Brahmaputra waters, willing the river bed to come up with answers to several questions that had troubled me for long.

On my first night in Guwahati, the skies opened up to remind me of what a genuine “torrential downpour” looked like, as different from the fake article sold to me and other gullible Delhi-ites by Mother Nature. Thunder and lightning flashed through the window sills and illuminated the toothy grin on my host’s face. “Rajon Da, this is the ideal setting for watching Motorcycle Diaries.” We had rum and coke for company (as if there is any other way to watch Motorcycle Diaries! But, yes. Khichuri and Ilish maach bhaja were sorely missed.)

I had known Che the revolutionary for long. A life-sized poster had adorned my bedroom for the better part of my college days. But Che, the traveler, was a newer, and rather engaging, acquaintance. As I watched the movie, I wondered how much does travel shape revolutionary thought...

I had read the book earlier but the movie was a joy to watch. A quick decision was made, a pact soaked in rum -- Patagonia has to be visited. Che and Chatwin had already been there, now the place was crying out for Chaks and Chaki. Besides, we needed to see the Inca civilization close up, not through anyone else’s lenses.

That night I slept the sleep of a child. My restive, semi-schizo mind held at bay by happy dreams of me on this big bike with Deborshi (the other half of the famous traveling duo), traveling through strange lands, meeting wonderful people.

Next morning, I met Cho. I had groggily pressed the remote button to catch up with the World Cup match that we had missed on account of Motorcycle Diaries and instead found myself face to face with a television reporter pretending to be on top of a rather complicated story of a man who without any apparent provocation had mowed down 32 people and then shot himself dead. The reporter looked at the camera and asked : “God knows what prompted the 23-year-old to kill 32 strangers, who had never done him any harm, in cold blood”. Try answering that one!

Really, what prompts a man to commit an act like that? In the days that have gone by since the Virginia Tech massacre, roommates of Cho have described him as shy, a loner but not one of them said he looked like a mass murderer.

What does a mass murderer look like anyway? Hitler had a maniacal gleam in his eyes that was a dead give away that everything wasn't quite there as it should have been, up in his mind. Closer home, with someone like Narendra Modi, it is more difficult to tell. I mean, you know that there is something wrong but at times it is difficult to put a finger on it. And then he opens his mouth, and you know you were right.

People who knew Cho said he kept to himself but they said they had no idea what was going on in his mind. That’s tough. Understanding what goes on in someone else’s mind. I mean, I struggle (and I guess, so do several others) trying to understand, trying to come to terms with what goes on in my mind. Imagine it. Understanding everything about another human being. Each thought, each memory, each detail of every experience.

Your head would explode. Cho’s must have, too, when he picked up that gun. Or may be it had exploded a lot earlier… who knows!

It is easy to condemn Cho and not for a moment am I condoning him for bringing upon such violence on his unsuspecting victims. But I am not going to be so quick to dub what he did as “mindless”. For, the same reports in the media that described the violence unleashed by Cho as “mindless” also took great pains to point out that Cho had a lot going on in his rather disturbed mind. So here wasn't someone who was mindless or even had less of a mind, but someone whose mind had unraveled in a very unfortunate manner.

I guess there is a bit of Che and Cho in all of us. Right now, I am not complaining, as Che seems to be winning. But truth be told, there have been moments in the not-so-distant past when I can distinctly recall Cho playing around with the inherent chemical imbalance in my mind.