‘Friedrick Nietzsche and the death of Krishna’

The opening statement that must be articulated in some and ever more great detail is this- Nietzsche’s understanding of the Eastern philosophy was embarrassingly naive, so much so that most of his scholarly work on the tradition was dumbed down- as he states himself- into one quintessential text of the Hindu canon: ‘Manu Smriti’. As he has mentioned through countless aphorisms in his awe-inspiring, almost superhuman and without a doubt- genius pantheon of work: he never considered Eastern religions: the forerunners of it being Hinduism and Buddhism to be anymore inspirational than the fodder of Western (especially German) philosophy. On many a numerous occasion, Nietzsche declared ‘Hinduism’ as ‘Brahmanism’, negating any sort of hierarchical antiquity that the tradition had borne over epochs. In his own words-he says somewhat childishly, that he felt excited-something that he hadn’t felt for a long time- when he encountered the text of Manu Smriti. (The text, coincidentally was entirely well known in Western Europe at the time. Rosseau mentioned Manu in his works, Schopenhauer mentioned him in his Magnum Opus: The World as Will and Representation, even Victor Hugo, who was far from a moralist or a philosopher- sang praises of Manu in his teeming web of fiction.) To him, the idea of an Ubermensch (the German word for Superman or Overman) transcended mere philosophy of evolution as stated chiefly by the cult of Darwinians. Accidents, such as evolution- as he saw it- followed an order, a deep order than was imperceptible to man- a species whom he quite poetically called, ‘a bridge between beast and Superman.’ That which was born and woven out of chaos was- he thought- just circling around in an order that was inconceivable to us. So, over the tumultuous years of his decaying life- for he suffered from a grave illness- he developed a perplexingly philosophy of his Ubermensch- ‘The Overman.’ He believed that the Ubermensch was an ascetic with the blood and sweat of a warrior- overly honourable and confoundingly simple. Though what drove his concept of Overman was the wandering ascetic Brahmin, Nietzsche often found himself at a crossroads- time and again he saw his philosophy being contradicted by his own thoughts. And so, such colossal an effect is quite visible in the character that is the entirety of his Magnum Opus: Zarathustra. Zarathustra, as Nietzsche states- is neither a scholar, nor an illiterate, neither is he religious, nor an atheist, neither is he a wanderer, nor is he a housemaker. And finally, neither is he sane, nor is he insane- he is but one thing, and one thing only- a madman. And so, in one of his deliriums, Zarathustra descends down into the world of the living leaving behind his fortress of solitude, and proclaims, ‘God is Dead! And we have killed him!’ Whatever mystery he seemed to have been unable to convey to us in his life, remains now-eternally curtained in his death, though speculations can always be made.

Now, right down to the finale of the greatest epic- greater than Homer, The Iliad and even the Ramayana: Jaya (which was the original name of the text) or The Mahabharata. The sheer brilliance of the text is undisputed, not only due to its rich layers of textured labyrinthine plots and characters, but also because of one very key aspect that the text has laboured on to uphold to the very end- the impossibility of being human. After the death of the Kauravas and the return of the Pandavas to the city of Hastinapur, Krishna (the mortal, the concept, the God) leaves the kingdom in their hands and waits- waits for his fate; for Gandhari, the wife of Drithrashtra had bestowed upon Krishna a malicious curse- that his entire clan (the Yadavas) would be annihilated, and Krishna, who himself was born a Kshatriya, (a whole other debate- why most of the Avatars of Vishnu were primarily Kshatriyas.) would die the death of a lowly animal and not on the battlefield- as bequeaths a warrior. And so, as the curse comes to fruition, Krishna is shot by Jara (a hunter) in his foot, who mistakes Krishna for a deer- and so Krishna dies- a moment in the cobweb history of Hinduism signalled as the emergence of Kali Yuga, the dark ages.

Now, back to Zarathustra. Nietzsche’s scathing critique of Christianity and the extensions of the Abrahamic and Semitic faiths was so widely read, that he now holds the crown of the ‘greatest critic of the Christian.’ (This should come as no shock to those well versed with his works. He literally authored a book: The Anti-Christ.) In Zarathustra, one can draw similarities between Nietzsche’s Overman and Krishna, for both the personalities are men of valour and have loyalty to but one aspect of living- truth. The character of Zarathustra, in relation to Krishna- is devoted to the liberation of man, though not through any conventional method. Zarathustra stands above all, (the tale starts with his meditation being disturbed, and he clambers down the mountain where he had nurtured his solitude.) he has no inkling to any customs but himself, has no loyalty but to the Overman, has no duty, other than to the truth- as Krishna does to Dharma. On top of it, both men are prone to sermons. (As Krishna recites the Bhagavad-Gita to Arjuna right before breaking into battle.) In a brilliant escapade of Zarathustra, he asks his fellow men, the following:

‘But the worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself;

you lie in wait for yourself in caverns and forests.

Lonely one, you are going the way to yourself!

And your way goes past yourself,

And past your seven devils!

You will be a heretic to yourself and witch and a soothsayer

And fool and doubter and unholy one and villain.

You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame:

How could you become new, if you had not first become ashes?’

The ‘Death of God’, Nietzsche saw was nothing to be celebrated. He foresaw a deep divide between Man and Man- that is to say, among the species itself. The concept of morality- he saw to the very end, was drawn from a well of deep fear of divine intervention and punishment. He thought, man was good to man, not because of the natural course of his evolution, but because he feared the prospects of him not being so. His complete denouement of all metaphysical philosophy signalled-as he thought- an end to faith. Faith not just in a holy, all-seeing eye, but even to anything remotely disparate from reality. But this, he said, raised a conundrum: if not God, then why morality? Was there a reason, he asked- behind man being nice to his fellow man? He could very well, not be so. All throughout his life, he sadly was not able to answer this query of his. After his death, Adolf Hitler heralded his philosophy to be the guiding force of post-war (WWI) Germany, (though he misinterpreted Nietzsche) and so Nazi Germany was born and with it-WWII and the Holocaust.

It is no doubt that the previous century has been but the most horrific, horrendous, bloody and morally devoid century of all time. From the conception of Nazi Germany, to the gulags of Communist era Soviet Union, to the demolition of the lowly Chinese worker by Mao (in which, the ideology of Marx played quite a prominent role.) in which millions of people died, the 20th century cost the world lives over a 100 million, which is not a small number on any count. Eerily, Nietzsche’s prophecy of the 20th century being the worst and the most destructive century came to pass- ‘The Death of God’ did very much liberate man, but not towards freedom, rather, towards anarchy. Now, the post-modernist literature sees a resurgence of God and festivities, but the question that Nietzsche had asked then remains unanswered: if not God, why morality?

Going back to the Mahabharata, specifically to the death of Krishna- one knows that moment now, to be the dawn of Kali Yuga: the age of moral repression and degradation. (As the running banter follows around in social circles when anything goes wrong: What are you going to do, its Kali Yuga!) Is it a mere coincidence, that this cyclical emergence towards the age where moral revulsion and corruption reigns supreme, came when Jara (a man) killed-though by accident- Krishna, (a God) thus fulfilling the prophetic words of Nietzsche: ‘God is dead! And we have killed him!’ What Nietzsche told through a sermon, the ancients did so through a confounding epic; the like of which has never been matched.

And last but not the least, I must bow down to the splendour of our ancients. They knew a thing or two about eternal wisdom, eh?