Rajbir Bhattacharjee

“I once asked a few North Koreans if the Buddha was sacred to them. The answer was a mockery of Marxism. ‘Yes, the Buddhists invented printing and production of books,’ said the party-tutored government-appointed interpreter. Only that which is useful is important. In this respect, the capitalists and the communists hold a common view of the ancient past. They are the Benthamite utilitarians. The Savarkarites too use ancient history to instigate and bring together the Hindus. Ganga puja for Modi is a photo opportunity. •”
― U. R. Ananthamurthy, Hindutva or Hind Swaraj

“So why study history? Unlike physics or economics, history is not a means for making accurate predictions. We study history not to know the future but to widen our horizons, to understand that our present situation is neither natural nor inevitable, and that we consequently have many more possibilities before us than we imagine. For example, studying how Europeans came to dominate Africans enables us to realise that there is nothing natural or inevitable about the racial hierarchy, and that the world might well be arranged differently.”
― Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind

“Procrustes, in Greek mythology, was the cruel owner of a small estate in Corydalus in Attica, on the way between Athens and Eleusis, where the mystery rites were performed. Procrustes had a peculiar sense of hospitality: he abducted travelers, provided them with a generous dinner, then invited them to spend the night in a rather special bed. He wanted the bed to fit the traveler to perfection. Those who were too tall had their legs chopped off with a sharp hatchet; those who were too short were stretched (his name was said to be Damastes, or Polyphemon, but he was nicknamed Procrustes, which meant “the stretcher”).”
― Nassim Nicholas Taleb, The Bed of Procrustes: Philosophical and Practical Aphorisms

“The hawk turned slowly and flexed his great wings to maintain his height. In this cold wind, he flew merely to see and to travel. Gone was the exhilaration of fast-rising summer air carrying him so high into the sky's blue vacuum that the pond became a silver speck and the great southern lake dazzled him with a glaring slash of reflected sun.”
― Franklin Russell, Watchers at the Pond