It’s the old debate. Did the river carve the land to make way for itself, or did the river bend to offer the river a course? Would the course of time allow itself to be marked by something as tiny as one man? Are his shoulders strong enough to bear the weight of the responsibility of the endless millennia?
Do great men match their wills against the wheel of time, marking it indelibly, thus shaping the lives of men and women for years to come? Or does the host of history, marching its predetermined course, produce such men as it needs to do its bidding? And when these are no more, goes on to find others?
“Kidhar hai satya?
Nadi ne khud banaya tha apna raasta,
Ya parivesh ne jhuk kar nadi ko raah di thi?
Kidhar hai Satya?”
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