The Iron Age

Of course, as a Hindu, I have no real concept of the End Times, W. says. Haven't I told him about the great Cycle which sees the degradation of civilisation and its rebirth? Haven't I told him that the Iron Age, full of violence and disease, is succeeded by the Golden Age?

I see nothing but chaos and degradation around me, W. knows that. Nothing but perversity, greed and conflict, but it doesn't touch me, not really. To the Hindu, there are no end times, W. says, that's what I've told him on several occasions. Even our age, the worst age of all, will see the birth of another of God's avatars, W. says, I've got that consolation. And there's no such thing as eternal damnation.

W. was brought up with the idea of eternal damnation, he says, and the thought of it still makes him shiver. Hindus are immune, W. says. I should try living as a Catholic and then I'd see. And as a Jew (W. is Jewish by bloodline). It's the guilt that's worst, says W. The sense you can never measure up.

Detachment, that's what you have to achieve to escape the wheel of rebirth, isn't it?, W. says. The cessation of desire. It makes sense to him, W. says. Look at my flat, for one thing. It's disgusting. Do I desire to clean it up? No. Do I desire to deal with the damp? Not really.

It's a kind of test for you, isn't it, your damp? It's the Iron Age in person, isn't it? It's the apocalypse. All I have to do is to desire not to change it, W. says. That would be moksha, wouldn't it? Ah, if only it were as simple for him, W. says.