Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart - Essay

Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart

Introduction

Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart (1958) stands as one of the most influential novels in world literature and a foundational text of postcolonial African writing. Written by a Nigerian author of Igbo heritage, the novel presents pre-colonial Igbo society from an insider’s perspective, challenging Western colonial stereotypes of Africa as primitive or without history. Set in the fictional clan of Umuofia (a group of nine villages) in the late nineteenth century, the story follows the rise and tragic fall of Okonkwo, a proud warrior and leader, against the backdrop of traditional Igbo life and the disruptive arrival of European missionaries and colonial administrators. The title, drawn from W.B. Yeats’s poem “The Second Coming,” signals both personal and cultural disintegration: “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.” Through rich detail, proverbs, and a nuanced portrayal of characters, Achebe explores the complexities of tradition, change, masculinity, and the human cost of cultural collision.

Plot Overview

The novel is divided into three parts. In the first, Okonkwo rises from poverty to become one of Umuofia’s most respected men through wrestling prowess, hard work as a yam farmer, and success in war. Haunted by the memory of his unsuccessful father Unoka, he rules his household with severity. The clan receives Ikemefuna, a boy from a neighboring village, as a peace offering; he lives with Okonkwo’s family for three years before the Oracle decrees his death, in which Okonkwo participates out of fear of appearing weak. An accidental killing at a funeral forces Okonkwo into seven years of exile in his motherland, Mbanta.

In the second part, during exile, Christian missionaries and colonial authority begin to take root. Okonkwo’s son Nwoye converts to the new religion. In the third part, Okonkwo returns to a transformed Umuofia. Attempts at resistance culminate in his killing of a colonial messenger. When the clan fails to support him, he hangs himself—an act of abomination in Igbo culture. The District Commissioner reduces the tragedy to a mere paragraph in his planned book on pacifying the “primitive tribes.”

Major and Supporting Characters

Achebe populates the novel with a wide range of characters who embody different responses to tradition and change.

Okonkwo, the protagonist, is a self-made man whose life is dominated by the fear of weakness and failure. He achieves wealth, titles, and respect through strength and aggression but cannot adapt when the world shifts around him.

Unoka, Okonkwo’s father, is a gentle musician and debtor whose perceived laziness and lack of titles shame his son and drive Okonkwo’s extreme masculinity.

Nwoye, Okonkwo’s eldest son, is sensitive and thoughtful. He suffers under his father’s harshness, especially after Ikemefuna’s death, and eventually finds solace in Christianity.

Ikemefuna, the boy from Mbaino, becomes a beloved member of Okonkwo’s household and a positive influence on Nwoye. His ritual killing marks a turning point in the novel.

Ekwefi, Okonkwo’s second wife, is resilient and devoted, having lost many children before the birth of her only surviving child, Ezinma.

Ezinma, Okonkwo’s favorite daughter, is intelligent and spirited. Okonkwo often wishes she had been born a boy. She is suspected of being an ogbanje (a spirit child who repeatedly dies and returns).

Obierika, Okonkwo’s closest friend, serves as a thoughtful foil. He questions rigid customs while remaining loyal to his people and supports Okonkwo during and after exile.

Uchendu, Okonkwo’s maternal uncle in Mbanta, offers wisdom about endurance, the importance of the motherland, and accepting suffering without despair.

Supporting characters include Ojiugo (Okonkwo’s youngest wife, beaten during the Week of Peace), Nwoye’s mother (the senior wife), Ezeudu (the elder who warns Okonkwo against killing Ikemefuna), Chielo (priestess of the Oracle), Mr. Brown (the relatively tolerant first missionary), Reverend James Smith (his rigid successor), and the District Commissioner (representing colonial power). Figures such as Amalinze the Cat, the medicine man Okagbue, and various elders, egwugwu (masked ancestral spirits), and converts further enrich the communal portrait of Igbo society.

Central Themes

The Clash Between Tradition and Change

The novel’s core tension lies in the encounter between a complex, functioning traditional society and the forces of European colonialism and Christianity. Achebe neither romanticizes the past nor condemns change outright. Igbo society has its own injustices—the killing of twins, the treatment of osu outcasts, rigid gender roles—yet it also possesses sophisticated systems of justice, religion, agriculture, and oral wisdom. The arrival of the white man fractures the social fabric, as Obierika observes: “The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay. Now he has won our brothers, and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.”

Masculinity, Fear, and Gender Roles

Okonkwo’s entire life is shaped by an extreme ideal of masculinity defined against his father’s “weakness.” He equates emotion, gentleness, and idleness with femininity and failure. Achebe writes: “Perhaps down in his heart Okonkwo was not a cruel man. But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness.” This fear leads him to beat his wives, reject his son’s sensitivity, and participate in Ikemefuna’s death. The novel critiques this rigid masculinity while also showing women’s quieter forms of power and resilience through characters like Ekwefi and the priestess Chielo.

Colonialism and Cultural Disintegration

Achebe portrays colonialism not merely as military conquest but as a more insidious process of cultural and religious conversion that divides communities from within. The missionaries attract the marginalized first, then gain broader influence. By the novel’s end, traditional authority has been undermined by the colonial court and church, and the once-united clan can no longer act as one.

Language, Proverbs, and Storytelling

Achebe weaves Igbo proverbs throughout the narrative, declaring that “proverbs are the palm-oil with which words are eaten.” This linguistic richness asserts the sophistication of Igbo culture and challenges the colonial notion that African societies lacked literature or philosophy. The novel itself becomes an act of cultural reclamation—telling the story from the African side rather than allowing the District Commissioner to reduce it to a footnote.

Fate, Chi, and Personal Agency

Igbo belief in chi (personal god or destiny) interacts with individual effort. Okonkwo believes a man can rise through hard work, yet his eventual isolation suggests limits to personal control when larger historical forces intervene. His suicide is both an assertion of agency and a final rejection of a world he can no longer shape.

Conclusion

Things Fall Apart remains a masterpiece because it refuses simple binaries. It presents a fully human African society with strengths and flaws, then shows how external forces and internal rigidities combine to make “things fall apart.” Through Okonkwo’s tragedy and the richly drawn supporting characters, Achebe explores timeless questions of identity, adaptation, masculinity, and cultural survival. The novel’s enduring power lies in its ability to make readers feel both the dignity of a vanishing world and the irreversible cost of its collapse. As the District Commissioner contemplates writing his book, Achebe’s own work stands as the necessary counter-narrative—restoring complexity, voice, and humanity to a story that colonialism sought to simplify and erase.

Rootless but Green are the Boulevard Trees - Essay

Rootless but Green Are the Boulevard Trees

Uma Parameswaran’s three-act play Rootless but Green Are the Boulevard Trees (first published 1987) stands as a landmark work in Indo-Canadian diasporic drama. Set in Winnipeg’s Fort Richmond neighbourhood in March–April 1979, the play offers an intimate, realistic portrait of two interconnected Indian immigrant families navigating the complex terrain of cultural displacement, intergenerational tension, identity, and belonging. Through everyday domestic conversations, arguments, and quiet revelations, Parameswaran examines the immigrant condition with honesty and compassion. The central metaphor of the title—boulevard trees that remain green and beautiful even without deep traditional roots—encapsulates the play’s affirmative yet clear-eyed vision of diasporic life.

The action unfolds almost entirely within the Bhave family home, a domestic space that becomes a microcosm of the larger immigrant experience. The play opens with nineteen-year-old Jayant packing a sports bag and suitcase in the recreation room, preparing for a driving trip to Montreal with his friends. This simple act of packing immediately signals restlessness and the desire for temporary escape. Jayant is the eldest son of Sharad and Savitri Bhave. Sharad, once an atomic-energy scientist at Trombay in India, now works as a real-estate broker in Winnipeg—a professional demotion that fuels his nostalgia and sense of loss. Savitri, a schoolteacher, remains the emotional centre of the household. More traditional than her husband in daily practice, she changes into a saree at home, wears kumkum, prepares Indian food, and quietly mediates family tensions while carrying the dual burden of professional and domestic labour.

Their children represent different degrees of cultural hybridity. Jayant, frustrated by his father’s constant references to “our people” and “our country,” challenges Sharad’s nostalgia. In one of the play’s key exchanges he declares:

“Our people, our old country. Dad there’s no our people and no old country for anyone in the world anymore. Least of all for us. This is our land and here we shall stay.”

Jayant’s sister Jyoti (sometimes spelled Jyothi), about twenty, is involved with Andre, a white Canadian boyfriend. Their relationship highlights the personal and cultural negotiations of cross-cultural romance. Jyoti experiences the pull between parental expectations and her own desires, while also sharing nostalgic memories of childhood in India with her brother. The youngest Bhave child, Krish (around twelve), belongs more fully to the Canadian-born generation; he is exposed mainly to residual Indian culture through food, language, and stories rather than lived memory of the homeland.

The extended family includes Sharad’s sister Veejala Moghe, a talented but frustrated astronomer and assistant professor at the university, her husband Anant (or Anand), and their children Vithal (around twenty-one) and Priti (around ten). Veejala embodies the particular struggles of the professional immigrant woman. She feels stifled by academic politics, lower recognition, and subtle racial prejudice. In a pivotal decision that shocks the family, she announces her intention to leave her husband and children and return to India in search of professional fulfilment and self-actualization. Anant, understanding her quest, does not oppose her. Sharad is deeply disturbed by his sister’s choice, while Savitri remains empathetic yet neutral, recognising the unresolved questions that haunt immigrant lives. Young Priti, like Krish, represents the third generation, largely Canadian in orientation, with friends such as Laura.

Surrounding the two families is a circle of young Indian students and friends—Arun, Dilip, Rajan, and Sridhar—who frequent the Bhave home. Their conversations range from longing for Indian food and cultural ambience to heated debates about assimilation, racism, and political strategy. Vithal, idealistic and community-minded, voices a more separatist stance:

“Assimilate my ass. They don’t want us to assimilate. They want us out. We’ll be squashed like bugs soon… We have to stay separate from them and stay together within and we’ve got to show them that we have as much right to be here as the pissed-off whites…”

These discussions reveal the spectrum of responses among the second generation: some lean toward pragmatic assimilation, others toward cultural solidarity and assertion of rights.

Sharad’s alienation is among the most poignant expressions of first-generation displacement. He admits:

“It upsets me profoundly to find myself in a crowd. All those alien faces staring at or through you… Makes me ask myself, What am I doing here? Who are these faceless people among whom my life is oozing away? Each so self-contained, so complete, looking at me as though I shouldn’t be there.”

He repeatedly returns to the image of failed transplantation, asking whether an Ontario poplar can survive in Manitoba soil and what chance immigrants therefore have. In contrast, Jayant and his peers point to the boulevard trees and newly planted evergreens around apartment blocks—trees set up overnight that appear green and flourishing. Jayant argues passionately:

“What does it matter how long it stands? The point is that it is there, beautiful and green for the length of its life. A day, a hundred thousand days, it is a question of what we do and are, during that time. This evergreen doesn’t have one Christly use—it isn’t even good as firewood—but it is there and it is green, it is beautiful.”

And later: “Yeah, rootless. Let’s face it… no one has roots anywhere because that’s the way things are in 1979 A.D. But we can stand tall… and live each day for all it’s goddamned worth.”

These exchanges crystallise the play’s central themes. Rootlessness and belonging form the core concern: the tension between nostalgia for the homeland and the necessity of making a life in the adopted country. Intergenerational conflict is sharply drawn—parents who migrated as adults carry vivid memories and cultural authority, while their children, partially or fully raised in Canada, claim the new land as home. Cultural hybridity and the possibility of a “third space” emerge as the younger generation seeks to plant “mangoes on maple trees.” Alienation, subtle racism, and professional displacement affect both men (Sharad’s loss of scientific status) and women (Veejala’s academic frustration). Gender and self-actualization receive particular attention through Savitri’s quiet endurance and Veejala’s radical choice. Finally, the theme of redefinition of home and family runs throughout: survival requires accepting changed identities and putting down new, if shallower, roots.

The title itself is the play’s governing symbol. The boulevard trees—evergreen, decorative, without deep ancestral roots or practical utility—stand for the immigrants who can nevertheless live fully, beautifully, and “green” for the span of their lives. Unlike the plantain tree of Indian memory that leaves a sapling behind, or the oak with its mile-wide roots, these trees affirm a different mode of existence: present-oriented, resilient, and sufficient in itself.

By the play’s end, crises remain unresolved in neat fashion—Jayant’s trip is aborted, Veejala’s departure looms—but a tentative acceptance emerges. Characters begin to recognise that belonging is not an all-or-nothing condition. One can retain elements of the past while engaging the present, and one can be rootless yet green. Parameswaran, herself an early immigrant to Canada, offers neither romanticised nostalgia nor forced assimilation. Instead she presents a humane, realistic vision of diasporic life in which dignity lies in living purposefully, accepting hybridity, and finding beauty in the transplanted condition.  Through the fully realised lives of Sharad, Savitri, Jayant, Jyoti, Krish, Veejala, Anant, Vithal, Priti, and their circle of friends, the play gives dramatic form to the enduring questions of migration: Who am I when the soil under my feet has changed? Can one thrive without the deep roots of the homeland? And is it possible, after all, to stand tall and green in a new landscape?

Rootless but Green Are the Boulevard Trees thus remains a significant contribution to Canadian and postcolonial drama. 

Thomas King’s “The One About Coyote Going West" - Essay

Thomas King’s “The One About Coyote Going West"

Introduction

Thomas King’s short story “The One About Coyote Going West,” first published in the 1993 collection One Good Story, That One, stands as one of the most playful yet profound works of contemporary Indigenous literature in North America. Written in a deceptively simple, oral storytelling voice, the narrative reworks traditional Coyote trickster tales to critique colonialism, the arrogance of “progress,” consumer culture, and the authority of written history. King, of Cherokee and Greek descent, employs humour, irony, and circular storytelling to challenge Eurocentric creation myths and discovery narratives while affirming Indigenous ways of knowing and self-creation. The story is not merely entertainment; it is a sophisticated act of cultural resistance that invites readers to question how worlds—and histories—are made.

Plot Overview

The story operates on two interwoven levels: a frame narrative and an embedded creation tale. In the frame, Coyote arrives at the narrator’s home, sticks her nose into the narrator’s tea, and announces she is heading west to visit relations and Raven so she can “tell those stories” and “fix this world.” The wary narrator, addressed interchangeably as grandmother and grandfather, invites her to sit and share stories instead. Coyote, having read “those books,” offers garbled European discovery accounts—Eric the Lucky and Vikings playing hockey, Christopher Cartier finding Indians in a Montreal restaurant, Jacques Columbus arriving to welcoming waves. The narrator dismisses these as “Whiteman stories” and asserts that Coyote herself discovered the Indians. Coyote then coaxes the “real” story.

In the embedded tale, Coyote is alone in a flat, empty world and decides to “make things” and “fix this world.” Her first creation is a Mistake: she falls into a hole while thinking of too many things at once; her colliding thoughts produce the Big Mistake. The Mistake flattens her, steals her mouth, and escapes. Coyote eventually heals herself by singing through her butt-hole (which continues to make embarrassing noises and smells). She then “improves” a perfectly smooth, two-way river by adding rocks, rapids, and waterfalls, and “corrects” a round, fruit-filled, whistling mountain by adding crags, cliffs, and snow. Searching for the source of the world’s “mess,” she finds the Big Mistake sitting on a portable barbecue reading a department-store catalogue, from which consumer goods—tires, televisions, vacuum cleaners, golf carts—materialize and pile up. When the Mistake proposes making Indians, four self-created ducks intervene. After several failed attempts to hatch Indians from eggs (producing only more ducks) and after Coyote’s repeated attempts to eat the ducks, the ducks themselves transform into four good-looking Indians (two women, two men). Disgusted by their new human form, the duck-Indians stomp Coyote flat again and leave. The story ends with the frame Coyote drinking the narrator’s tea and departing to tell Raven how to “fix this world for sure,” while the narrator watches the sky for falling objects.

Characters

Coyote is the central figure, appearing both as the frame visitor and the protagonist of the embedded story. Female in this telling, she embodies the classic Indigenous trickster: creative, curious, well-intentioned, yet chronically disruptive. Her desire to “fix” the world produces chaos rather than order. King’s Coyote is neither purely comic nor purely tragic; she is a mirror for colonial and modern impulses to improve what is already sufficient.

The Narrator functions as both storyteller and cultural elder. Addressing Coyote with the gender-fluid respect of “grandmother” and “grandfather,” the narrator controls the tale, corrects Coyote’s book-learned history, and ultimately warns against intervention. The narrator represents oral tradition’s authority and the wisdom of leaving the world alone.

The Big Mistake is Coyote’s first creation and the story’s most potent allegorical figure. Born from colliding thoughts, it escapes, generates endless consumer goods from a catalogue, and casually proposes manufacturing Indians. It personifies the unintended consequences of colonial and capitalist “progress”—material excess, environmental alteration, and the commodification of people.

The Four Ducks (white, green, blue, and red) are self-created beings who grow tired of waiting for Coyote. They attempt to produce Indians through ritual (eggs, dance, song) and ultimately transform themselves into the first Indians. Their self-fashioning asserts Indigenous agency and prior presence. Once human, they reject their new form and punish Coyote, underscoring the cost of forced transformation.

Minor figures include the polite river and mountain (natural entities “corrected” into conventional Western landscapes), the baby ducks (failed products of the ritual), Mink and Otter (earlier creators of rainbow and moon), and the briefly mentioned Raven. Historical European “discoverers” appear only as comic distortions in Coyote’s book knowledge.

Major Themes

Colonialism and the Myth of Discovery

King systematically dismantles the European discovery narrative. Coyote’s book-learned versions of Viking, Cartier, and Columbus stories are revealed as absurd “baby stories.” The true “discovery” of Indians is attributed to Coyote, yet even this is undercut when the ducks create themselves. The story insists that Indigenous peoples were never lost and never needed finding.

The Dangers of “Fixing” the World

Coyote’s repeated interventions—creating the Mistake, altering the river and mountain, attempting to manufacture Indians—produce disorder, flatness, and suffering. The narrator’s closing moral is unambiguous: “This world is pretty good all by itself. Best to leave it alone.” The theme critiques both colonial civilizing missions and modern technological or developmental hubris.

Consumer Culture and Material Excess

The Big Mistake’s catalogue generates an avalanche of useless modern goods that threaten to make the world “lopsided.” King satirizes the idea that progress consists of accumulating objects Indians “will need,” exposing the emptiness of consumerist creation.

Oral Tradition versus Written Authority

Coyote trusts books; the narrator trusts living story. The narrative itself models oral performance through repetition, direct address, interjections, and circular structure. King privileges the flexible, relational authority of spoken story over the fixed, hierarchical claims of written history.

Indigenous Self-Creation and Agency

The ducks’ decision to become Indians themselves is the story’s most affirmative moment. Before Coyote or the Mistake can impose identity, the ducks act. This affirms that Indigenous presence and identity precede and transcend colonial naming or creation myths.

Gender Fluidity and Trickster Ambiguity

Coyote is female; the narrator is addressed as both grandmother and grandfather. The trickster tradition resists rigid categories, allowing King to play with gender, authority, and identity in ways that challenge binary Western frameworks.

Narrative Style and Technique

King writes in a colloquial, repetitive, present-tense oral style that mimics spoken performance: short sentences, direct address (“I says,” “she says”), physical comedy (nose in tea, butt-hole singing, stomping flat), and playful anachronisms (hockey-playing Vikings, department-store catalogues). The double narrative structure—frame and embedded tale—allows constant meta-commentary. Humour is the primary vehicle of critique; laughter disarms while it subverts. The story refuses linear resolution: Coyote leaves still determined to “fix” the world, and the narrator remains vigilant. This open-endedness mirrors the ongoing nature of colonial encounter and Indigenous resilience.

Conclusion

“The One About Coyote Going West” is a masterful blending of traditional trickster narrative with postmodern satire. Through Coyote’s well-meaning disasters, King exposes the arrogance of discovery claims, the violence of imposed improvement, and the absurdity of consumer progress, while celebrating the prior and continuing agency of Indigenous peoples. The story’s humour makes its critique accessible; its oral form makes it culturally grounded; its refusal of neat endings makes it politically urgent. In a world still full of catalogues, “fixes,” and competing origin stories, King’s Coyote remains both warning and invitation: watch the sky, guard the tea, and think carefully before you try to straighten anything up.

Girish Karnad’s Tughlaq - Essay

Girish Karnad’s Tughlaq: Idealism, Power, and the Tragedy of Vision

Girish Karnad’s Tughlaq (1964), originally written in Kannada and later translated into English by the playwright himself, stands as one of the most significant works of modern Indian drama. First staged in 1965, the play dramatizes the reign of Muhammad bin Tughlaq, the fourteenth-century Sultan of Delhi (1325–1351), whose brilliance and catastrophic failures have long fascinated historians. Karnad transforms this historical figure into a complex tragic protagonist whose story resonates far beyond its medieval setting. Written in the early years of independent India, when the idealism of the Nehruvian era was beginning to fray, Tughlaq functions both as a historical drama and a powerful political allegory. Through thirteen tightly structured scenes, Karnad explores the dangerous gap between lofty ideals and practical reality, the entanglement of religion and politics, the corrupting nature of absolute power, and the profound loneliness of the visionary leader.

Plot Overview

The play opens in Delhi with the young Sultan announcing progressive policies: justice without regard to religion or status, and the ambitious decision to shift the capital from Delhi to Daulatabad in the Deccan. He presents the move as a symbol of Hindu-Muslim unity, since Daulatabad is a predominantly Hindu city. What begins as an invitation soon becomes a forced, disastrous migration. Thousands perish on the long road. Tughlaq introduces token copper currency equal in value to silver, only for counterfeiting to destroy the economy. Rebellions break out, trusted advisors are murdered or turn against him, and the Sultan grows increasingly paranoid and ruthless. By the end, the once-idealistic ruler is isolated, exhausted, and teetering on the edge of madness, left alone as the call to prayer echoes around him.

Major Characters

At the centre stands Muhammad bin Tughlaq, a man of extraordinary intellect, scholarship, and ambition. He is a philosopher-king who quotes the Quran, discusses Greek philosophy, and dreams of building a just, secular, and progressive state. Yet the same intelligence that makes him visionary also isolates him. His inability to communicate his ideas to ordinary people, combined with his growing suspicion and capacity for cruelty, turns him into a tyrant. Karnad presents him not as a simple villain but as a tragic figure whose very strengths become the instruments of his destruction.

Najib, the shrewd and pragmatic vizier, represents realpolitik. A convert to Islam, he advises the Sultan on practical (and often ruthless) measures to maintain power. His murder, orchestrated by the Stepmother, marks a turning point in Tughlaq’s isolation.

Zia-ud-din Barani, the historian, serves as the moral conscience of the play. Loyal and thoughtful, he repeatedly urges the Sultan to return to the ideals of justice, peace, and God. Barani’s eventual departure signals the final collapse of reason and ethical guidance in the court.

The Stepmother is the only significant female character. She loves Tughlaq deeply and tries to protect him, even resorting to the murder of Najib. Her subsequent execution by her stepson reveals how thoroughly power has eroded human bonds.

Aziz and Aazam form the comic yet deeply serious subplot. Aziz, a cunning washerman, constantly reinvents himself—first as the Brahmin Vishnu Prasad, later as the holy man Ghiyas-ud-din Abbasid. He thrives by exploiting every loophole in Tughlaq’s idealistic policies. Aazam, his more timid companion, follows until he is destroyed. Together they embody the opportunistic underside of society that flourishes when idealism fails.

Supporting figures such as Sheikh Imam-ud-din (the fiery religious critic who physically resembles the Sultan), Shihab-ud-din, Ratansingh, and Ain-ul-Mulk represent the religious orthodoxy, noble conspiracies, and political rebellions that ultimately overwhelm Tughlaq’s vision.

Major Themes

Idealism versus Reality is the central theme of the play. Tughlaq begins with noble dreams of equality, justice, and Hindu-Muslim unity. He declares: “My beloved people! You are free to follow any religion you please.” He believes that shifting the capital to Daulatabad will “symbolize the bond between Muslims and Hindus.” These ideas are intellectually sound and morally admirable, yet they collide disastrously with the realities of human nature, administrative capacity, and popular understanding. The forced march to Daulatabad becomes a trail of death; the token currency collapses under counterfeiting. Karnad shows that idealism without pragmatism and popular support becomes tyranny.

Closely related is the theme of Religion and Politics. Tughlaq attempts to create a secular polity, yet religion remains a powerful force that he cannot control or ignore. Orthodox elements accuse him of undermining Islam. He himself uses religion instrumentally—inviting Sheikh Imam-ud-din to preach and then arranging his death. The play repeatedly warns of the danger of mixing the two spheres. A voice of reason observes that “Religion! Politics! Take heed, Sultan, one day these verbal distinctions will rip you into two.”

Power and Corruption form another major strand. Absolute power isolates Tughlaq and hardens him. Trusted friends become traitors or corpses. He grows paranoid, ordering mass executions and becoming the “Mad Muhammad” of popular legend. The subplot of Aziz demonstrates that corruption flourishes precisely because the Sultan’s grand schemes create opportunities for the unscrupulous. Power, in Karnad’s vision, does not merely corrupt; it transforms the idealist into the very opposite of what he set out to be.

Loneliness and Alienation run through the play as a quiet, tragic undercurrent. Tughlaq is intellectually superior to everyone around him and therefore profoundly alone. Even those who care for him—Barani and the Stepmother—cannot fully understand or save him. Near the end he confesses to Barani: “I have grown old in just two years.” In another moment of painful self-awareness he asks: “How can I become wise again, Barani?” His isolation is both the cause and the consequence of his failure.

Finally, Tughlaq functions as a political allegory. Karnad himself noted the parallel between Tughlaq’s reign and the early decades of independent India under Nehru—an era of high idealism that gradually gave way to disillusionment, bureaucratic failure, and political cynicism. The play asks whether visionary leadership can survive the pressures of reality and whether the gap between the ruler’s dream and the people’s experience is inevitable.

Significant Quotations from the Play 

Several lines capture the play’s essence:

“But do you know, you can love a city like a woman? My old father had lived in Delhi all his life. He died of a broken heart.”

(An old man’s lament during the forced migration, highlighting the human cost of grand schemes.)

“No, young man, I don’t envy you or your youth. All that you have to face and suffer is still ahead of you.”

(Tughlaq speaking of his own disillusionment.)

“I have something to give, something to teach, which may open the eyes of history, but I have to do it within this life. I’ve got to make them listen to me before I lose even that!”

(Tughlaq’s desperate assertion of purpose even as his world collapses.)

“What is this kingdom of ours but a vast prison?”

(A bitter recognition of the isolation that absolute power creates.)

Conclusion

Tughlaq remains a masterpiece because it refuses simple answers. Karnad does not merely condemn the Sultan as a failed idealist or celebrate him as a misunderstood genius. Instead, he presents a man of rare intelligence and genuine moral ambition who is destroyed by the very qualities that make him remarkable. The play’s enduring power lies in its recognition that the distance between vision and reality, between the ruler and the ruled, and between idealism and power is a permanent feature of political life. More than sixty years after its first performance, Tughlaq continues to speak to any society that has known the rise and fall of great hopes.

Vanishing Landmarks - Essay

Introduction

Nirad C. Chaudhuri (1897–1999) is one of the most distinctive and controversial Indian writers in English. His The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian, published in 1951, is much more than a personal record of his life. It is also an account of the social, cultural, intellectual and political transformation of India during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The work traces the making of Chaudhuri’s personality against the larger background of colonial India. 

“Vanishing Landmarks” is the third chapter of Book IV, Into the World. The chapter is particularly significant because Chaudhuri looks beyond his individual experiences and reflects upon the disappearance of the values, institutions and cultural ideals that had once given direction to Indian society. The word “landmarks” is metaphorical. Chaudhuri is not merely referring to physical monuments or geographical features. He is referring to the moral, intellectual, cultural and social points of reference by which people once guided their lives.

The chapter therefore becomes a meditation on change, loss, cultural decline and the consequences of political transformation. Chaudhuri feels that the India of his formative years was disappearing before his eyes. His concern is not simply nostalgia for the past; it is his anxiety about the replacement of an older moral and intellectual order by political passion, materialism and uncritical Westernisation.

1. The Meaning of “Vanishing Landmarks”

The title itself is highly symbolic. A landmark normally gives a person a sense of direction and stability. It tells people where they are and helps them understand where they are going. For Chaudhuri, Indian society once possessed several such landmarks:

religion and moral consciousness,

literature and learning,

intellectual discipline,

personal integrity,

cultural traditions,

the ideals of the Bengal Renaissance,

and a balanced relationship between Indian and Western civilisation.

According to Chaudhuri, these landmarks gradually disappeared under the pressures of modern politics and social change.

His autobiography was deliberately designed to preserve a social and cultural world that he believed was disappearing. Scholars have noted that Chaudhuri regarded the end of British rule as involving not merely a political change but also the disappearance of a particular middle-class social and cultural order. 

Thus, “vanishing” refers to the disappearance of a way of life, while “landmarks” refers to the values that gave that life its character.

2. The Dominance of Politics

One of Chaudhuri’s major criticisms is the growing dominance of politics in Indian life.

He argues that politics gradually occupied the space that had previously belonged to religion, literature, education and moral reflection. Political nationalism became an overwhelming force, influencing almost every aspect of society.

Chaudhuri was particularly critical of the emotional and irrational aspects of nationalist politics. He believed that political passion could become destructive when it was not accompanied by intellectual discipline and moral responsibility.

For him, the problem was not simply that Indians became politically conscious. Political awareness could be valuable. His concern was that politics became the supreme measure of life.

The educated classes, in his view, increasingly judged people and institutions according to their political affiliations rather than their intellectual or moral qualities.

This is one of the central ideas of the chapter: when politics becomes the dominant force in society, other forms of culture may be pushed into the background.

3. Decline of Religion and Moral Consciousness

Another important landmark that Chaudhuri believes is disappearing is moral consciousness.

He remembers a time when religion, particularly the reformist traditions associated with Brahmoism and the new Hinduism, helped cultivate moral discipline. People were expected to possess honesty, self-respect, courage and a sense of duty.

However, Chaudhuri observes a gradual decline in these qualities.

He particularly criticises the growing acceptance of dishonesty and corruption. In earlier generations, he suggests, certain occupations or actions might have been rejected because they were considered morally wrong. In the changing society, however, financial success increasingly became more important than ethical principles.

This is an important distinction in Chaudhuri's thought:

Material prosperity without moral integrity is not genuine progress.

The disappearance of moral scruples therefore becomes one of the most disturbing forms of cultural loss.

4. The Rise of Materialism

Chaudhuri also observes the increasing importance of money, social status and personal advantage.

The older ideal of character, according to him, was gradually being replaced by the pursuit of material success. People began to evaluate occupations, relationships and social positions in terms of economic benefit.

This transformation represents another “vanishing landmark.”

For Chaudhuri, a civilisation cannot be judged merely by its wealth. It must also be judged by the quality of character that it produces.

The problem he identifies is therefore not modernisation itself but modernisation without moral discipline.

5. The Loss of the Bengal Renaissance Ideal

The chapter can also be understood in relation to Chaudhuri’s deep awareness of the Bengal Renaissance.

The nineteenth-century Bengal Renaissance had produced an intellectual culture in which Indian traditions encountered Western ideas. Reformers, scholars, writers and thinkers attempted to create a synthesis between the best elements of Indian and European civilisation.

Chaudhuri admired this intellectual encounter.

He believed that educated Indians could learn from Europe without simply abandoning their own cultural foundations. The ideal was selective assimilation rather than blind imitation.

But he felt that this balance was disappearing.

Instead of a thoughtful synthesis of East and West, he saw an increasing tendency towards superficial Westernisation. This was another landmark that was vanishing.

6. East and West: Synthesis versus Imitation

The relationship between India and the West is one of the recurring concerns of Chaudhuri's writings. His position is complex and sometimes controversial.

He admired many aspects of Western civilisation—particularly its intellectual traditions, literature, historical consciousness, discipline and institutions. At the same time, he was deeply aware of Indian civilisation and its traditions.

What he valued was not the complete rejection of Indian culture or the complete imitation of Europe. He wanted an intellectual encounter between the two civilisations.

The tragedy, in his view, was that Indians increasingly imitated the external aspects of Western life without necessarily acquiring its intellectual or moral foundations.

Thus, Chaudhuri's criticism is directed against uncritical Westernisation, not against learning from the West.

7. Chaudhuri’s Criticism of Nationalism

Chaudhuri's treatment of nationalism is one of the most controversial aspects of the autobiography.

He was deeply sceptical of emotional nationalism and particularly critical of the political methods associated with the nationalist movement. His discussion of Gandhi and the political developments of the period reflects his belief that nationalism could sometimes become irrational and destructive.

For Chaudhuri, political freedom was not automatically equivalent to cultural or moral progress.

He feared that the destruction of colonial rule might also result in the destruction of certain institutions and values that had emerged during the colonial period.

This explains the provocative dedication of the autobiography:

“To the memory of the British Empire in India, Which conferred subjecthood upon us.”

The dedication is deliberately controversial. Chaudhuri is not simply celebrating colonialism. Rather, he is making a complex historical argument about the political and cultural transformation produced by British rule.

His position remains controversial because many readers interpret his admiration for Britain as excessive. Nevertheless, the dedication establishes one of the fundamental tensions of the autobiography: Chaudhuri is simultaneously an Indian, a critic of Indian society, an admirer of Europe, and a witness to the end of empire.

8. The Individual and the Changing Society

“Vanishing Landmarks” is also autobiographical because Chaudhuri measures social change through his own experience.

His personal development is inseparable from the historical transformation around him. His childhood and youth were shaped by a particular cultural environment, but that environment was disappearing as he reached adulthood.

This creates a sense of personal loss as well as historical loss.

The autobiography therefore becomes an attempt to preserve memory.

Chaudhuri's writing can be viewed as an act of historical preservation: if the landmarks are disappearing, the writer can at least record them in words.

This explains why his autobiography is simultaneously:

a personal memoir,

a cultural history,

a social commentary,

and an intellectual autobiography.

9. The Theme of Loss

The dominant emotional quality of the chapter is loss.

Chaudhuri is looking backward at a world that no longer exists in the same form. His sense of loss extends beyond politics to the landscapes, institutions and cultural atmosphere of his youth.

Later critical scholarship has also identified the theme of loss as central to Chaudhuri's writings, particularly his sense of the disappearance of Bengal, the transformation of Calcutta and the loss of the East Bengal of his childhood. �

ResearchGate

Therefore, “Vanishing Landmarks” should not be read merely as a political essay. It is also a meditation on memory and disappearance.

The writer attempts to rescue the past from complete oblivion by reconstructing it through autobiography.

10. The Historical Significance of the Chapter

The chapter is important because Chaudhuri does not see history as a simple movement from backwardness to progress.

For him, change can involve both gain and loss.

India was certainly changing. Political consciousness was growing. Society was becoming more modern. New opportunities were emerging. But Chaudhuri asks a difficult question:

What happens to a society when it gains something new but loses the values that once sustained it?

This makes the chapter particularly relevant even today.

Modernisation can bring:

technological progress,

economic development,

political participation,

greater mobility,

but it can also produce:

materialism,

cultural dislocation,

weakening of traditional values,

excessive political polarisation,

and the loss of historical memory.

Chaudhuri's concerns therefore extend beyond his own historical period.

11. Chaudhuri as a Cultural Historian

Although The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian is formally an autobiography, Chaudhuri writes as a cultural historian.

His personal experiences become evidence through which he interprets Indian society.

This is why the book has been described as going beyond the story of one individual. Chaudhuri uses the first part of his life to reconstruct the larger social and cultural world that shaped him. 

“Vanishing Landmarks” is especially important in this respect because the personal “I” becomes a witness to historical change.

His individual memory becomes a form of cultural memory.

12. Style and Language

Chaudhuri's prose is characterised by:

intellectual precision,

historical references,

irony,

argumentation,

detailed observation,

analytical description,

and an often provocative tone.

He does not write in a sentimental manner. Even when he is discussing loss, he often maintains the tone of an intellectual observer.

His style is therefore different from a conventional nostalgic autobiography.

He does not merely say:

“The old world was beautiful.”

Instead, he asks why it was valuable, what replaced it, and what was lost in the process.

This combination of autobiography and social criticism makes his work distinctive in Indian English prose.

13. Important Ideas Expressed through Quotations

A few quotations are particularly useful when discussing Chaudhuri's larger vision.

The dedication to the autobiography is perhaps the most famous:

“To the memory of the British Empire in India, Which conferred subjecthood upon us.”

This immediately establishes his complicated relationship with colonial history.

Another important idea is his insistence that the autobiography is not merely about himself. His larger project is to record the civilisation and cultural environment that shaped him.

His final reflections on India are especially significant because he interprets Indian history through the interaction between environment, culture, politics and civilisation.

The phrase “Vanishing Landmarks” itself is the most important symbolic expression in the chapter: landmarks represent the moral and cultural structures that once gave society direction.

Note: Since wording can vary slightly between editions of the 1951 autobiography and later editions, quotations should be checked against the edition prescribed by your university before using them in a research paper or examination answer.

14. Major Themes

The chapter can be understood through the following major themes:

a. Cultural Change

Chaudhuri examines how Indian society changes under modern political and cultural pressures.

b. Loss of Moral Values

He regrets the decline of honesty, integrity and moral consciousness.

c. Political Domination

Politics increasingly occupies the place once given to religion, literature and intellectual life.

d. Materialism

Economic success begins to take precedence over character.

e. East–West Encounter

The older ideal of synthesis between Indian and Western values is replaced by superficial imitation.

f. Memory and Nostalgia

The chapter records Chaudhuri's attempt to preserve a disappearing world.

g. History and Identity

The personal history of the writer becomes inseparable from the history of modern India.

h. Civilisational Anxiety

Chaudhuri questions whether political and social change necessarily constitutes genuine cultural progress.

Conclusion

Nirad C. Chaudhuri's “Vanishing Landmarks” is much more than an account of things disappearing from Indian society. It is a profound reflection on civilisation, morality, politics, cultural identity and historical change.

The “landmarks” that Chaudhuri sees disappearing include not only particular institutions but also ways of thinking and standards of conduct. He mourns the decline of moral consciousness, the growing dominance of politics, the pursuit of money, the weakening of intellectual culture and the replacement of thoughtful cultural synthesis by superficial imitation.

At the same time, the chapter reveals Chaudhuri's complex and sometimes controversial attitude towards British colonialism. His admiration for certain aspects of Western civilisation does not make his work a simple celebration of colonial rule. Rather, it demonstrates his belief that history is complicated and that political liberation and cultural progress are not necessarily identical.  The chapter therefore remains significant because its central question continues to be relevant: when a society changes rapidly, how can it preserve the moral and cultural landmarks that give that change meaning and direction?

Ultimately, Vanishing Landmarks is Chaudhuri's attempt to remember what history is in danger of forgetting. His autobiography preserves a disappearing social and intellectual world and transforms personal memory into cultural history. 

Abraham Cowley’s “The Danger of Procrastination” - Essay

 

Abraham Cowley’s “The Danger of Procrastination”

 

Introduction

Abraham Cowley’s “The Danger of Procrastination” is a witty, philosophical, and persuasive essay written in the form of a letter to his friend Mr. S. L. The essay deals with one of the most common weaknesses of human beings—the habit of postponing necessary action. Cowley himself wishes to withdraw from the “tumult and business of the world” and devote the remaining part of his life to study. His friend, however, advises him to delay this decision until he has acquired a sufficient fortune to enjoy otium cum dignitate, or “leisure with dignity.” Cowley rejects this advice because, after the age of forty, life is too short to be wasted in the pursuit of uncertain wealth.

The essay is not merely a personal disagreement between two friends. Cowley develops it into a universal reflection on time, old age, fortune, desire, mortality, opportunity, action, and procrastination. He supports his argument with examples from Greek philosophy, Roman literature, mythology and classical history, contemporary English history, Latin proverbs, and memorable metaphors. His central argument is that we must begin important work now rather than wait for perfect circumstances, because time lost can never be recovered.

Cowley’s Decision to Withdraw from the World

At the beginning of the essay, Cowley explains that he is pleased that his friend approves of his plan to withdraw from worldly business and devote his remaining time to study.

He describes his studies as activities to which “nature had so motherly inclined” him, while “fortune like a step-mother” had kept him away from them for a long time. The contrast between the loving mother and the unkind stepmother is significant. Nature has given Cowley an inclination towards study, but worldly circumstances have prevented him from following that inclination.

Cowley now wants to correct this imbalance. He does not want to spend the remaining part of his life pursuing worldly success.

His friend, however, advises him to wait.

This advice becomes the central issue of the essay.

“But” as the Beginning of Procrastination

Cowley humorously objects to his friend's repeated use of the word “But.” He calls it:

“a rust which spoils the good metal it grows upon.”

The metaphor is very effective. Just as rust damages valuable metal, the word “but” can weaken a good decision by introducing hesitation, qualification, and delay.

Cowley’s friend agrees with his plan in principle but immediately adds a condition: he should wait until he has acquired enough wealth.

Cowley sees this “but” as the beginning of procrastination. A person may have a good purpose, but endless qualifications can prevent him from ever acting upon it.

The Advice to Wait for Wealth

The friend's advice is that Cowley should continue working until he possesses enough property to live comfortably. This is described through the classical phrase:

“cum dignitate otium”

The phrase means “leisure with dignity.”

The idea is that a person should first accumulate sufficient wealth and then retire from worldly affairs to pursue intellectual or peaceful activities.

Cowley considers this advice impractical. He argues that waiting for complete financial security may consume the very years that should be devoted to the desired work.

His objection is especially strong because he is already beyond forty.

The Example of Joshua

Cowley makes a humorous classical-biblical reference when he says that such advice would be excellent for:

“Joshua, who could bid the sun stay too.”

The reference is to Joshua in the Bible, who is traditionally associated with commanding the sun to stand still.

Cowley uses this example humorously. If a person possessed Joshua's power to stop the sun, he could afford to delay because he could literally stop the passage of time.

But ordinary human beings do not possess such power.

The example therefore emphasizes one of Cowley's most important arguments: human beings cannot stop time to compensate for procrastination.

Life after Forty

Cowley then makes one of his strongest statements:

“there's no fooling with life when it is once turned beyond forty.”

For Cowley, forty represents an important stage of life. When a person is young, some postponement may appear harmless because there are many years ahead. But once middle age is reached, time becomes increasingly precious.

He therefore rejects the idea of spending several more years accumulating wealth before beginning the work that genuinely interests him.

The pursuit of fortune at this stage, he says, is:

“a desperate after game”

The phrase comes from the language of gambling. It suggests trying to recover one's losses through a final risky attempt.

Cowley humorously estimates the odds as “a hundred to one” against success. His own experience, he adds, has not given him a particularly lucky hand.

The metaphor shows that continuing to gamble with time and fortune is irrational when life is already advanced.

Fortune and the Reduction of Desire

Cowley next introduces an important philosophical idea: when a person cannot obtain everything he desires, he can still become content by reducing his desires.

He says:

“There is some help for all the defects of fortune.”

If fortune cannot be changed, human desire can be changed.

This is an important Stoic and Epicurean idea. Happiness does not necessarily require unlimited wealth. A person can become satisfied by learning to want less.

The Example of Epicurus and Pythocles

Cowley then introduces the Greek philosopher Epicurus and his friend Idomeneus.

Idomeneus was a powerful and wealthy man. Epicurus wrote to him on behalf of another friend, Pythocles, whom he wished to see made wealthy.

But Cowley gives an amusing interpretation of what true generosity should mean. Epicurus does not want Idomeneus to enrich Pythocles in the ordinary way. Instead, he asks him to enrich him by:

“take something from his desires.”

This is one of the most important examples in the essay.

Cowley suggests that there are two ways of making a person rich. One is to increase his possessions; the other is to reduce his desires.

If a person desires less, he needs less wealth.

Thus, Cowley does not accept the argument that he must postpone his intellectual retirement until he possesses a large fortune. He can simplify his desires instead.

The Central Argument: Do Not Delay Necessary Work

Cowley then clearly states the main principle of his essay:

“for the uncertain hopes of some conveniences we ought not to defer the execution of a work that is necessary”

This is the central moral lesson.

People should not postpone necessary work merely because they hope to obtain greater comfort in the future.

He gives special emphasis to the fact that material conveniences can often be replaced or compensated for, but:

“the loss of time never recovered.”

This is perhaps the most important statement in the essay.

Money may be earned again. Possessions may be acquired later. Comfort may be sacrificed temporarily. But lost time can never be restored.

“Le Jeu Ne Vaut Pas La Chandelle”

Cowley strengthens his argument by using a French proverb:

“Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle.”

It means:

“The game is not worth the candle.”

The proverb means that the reward is not worth the cost involved.

Cowley applies this to the pursuit of wealth late in life. Even if he were certain of obtaining everything he desired by continuing the struggle, it would still not be worthwhile when so much of life has already passed.

The remaining “candle” represents the remaining light of life. If only a little candle remains, it is foolish to spend it on a game whose rewards may arrive too late.

The metaphor beautifully connects time, light, life, and mortality.

The Shipwreck Metaphor

Cowley next introduces one of the most memorable images in the essay. He compares human life to a ship that has been through a storm:

“After having been long tossed in a tempest”

If the ship still has its:

“masts”

and enough:

“sail and tackling”

to reach the port, there is no need to worry about decorative additions such as:

“streamers and topgallants.”

The meaning is clear. After experiencing the storms and difficulties of life, if a person still has enough strength and ability to reach his goal, he should use what he has rather than wait for ideal conditions.

Cowley concludes with the Latin expression:

“utere velis, totos pande sinus.”

The sense is: use the sails you have and spread them fully.

The metaphor teaches that we should make use of our existing resources instead of delaying until we possess everything we would ideally like to have.

The Example of the Gentleman in the Civil Wars

One of the most memorable examples in the essay comes from Cowley's own historical period.

He tells the story of a gentleman during the English Civil Wars whose quarters were attacked by the enemy. He had the opportunity to escape, but he stopped to put on:

“a band and adjust his periwig.”

A “band” was a formal collar, while a periwig was a wig worn as part of fashionable gentlemanly appearance.

The man wanted to escape properly dressed like a gentleman. Unfortunately, his concern for appearance caused him to lose the opportunity to escape.

Cowley describes him humorously as:

“the noble martyr of ceremony and gentility.”

The phrase is deliberately ironic. The man becomes a “martyr” not to some great principle but to his excessive concern with manners and appearance.

This story is a perfect illustration of procrastination. The gentleman could have escaped immediately, but he delayed for an unnecessary reason.

“Festina Lente” versus “Sapere Aude”

Cowley then returns to his friend's advice.

His friend had recommended:

“festina lente”

which means “make haste slowly.”

This is a traditional Latin maxim advocating caution and deliberation.

Cowley, however, believes that such advice is inappropriate for someone who is trying to withdraw from the world and make use of the remaining years of life.

He compares it to the unfortunate gentleman who delayed his escape because he wanted to appear respectable.

Cowley therefore prefers Horace's advice:

“Sapere aude; incipe.”

This means:

“Dare to be wise; begin.”

The two expressions represent two different attitudes.

Festina lente = proceed slowly and cautiously.

Sapere aude; incipe = have the courage to begin.

Cowley prefers the second because his problem is not reckless haste but excessive delay.

Horace’s Example of the River

Cowley then quotes Horace at length:

“Sapere aude;
Incipe. Vivendi qui recte prorogat horam
Rusticus expectat dum labitur amnis; at ille
Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis ævum.”

Cowley translates the idea as:

“Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise;
He who defers the work from day to day,
Does on a river's bank expecting stay,
Till the whole stream which stopped him should be gone,
That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.”

This is one of the most important passages in the essay.

The procrastinator is compared to a foolish person standing beside a river, waiting for the water to flow away before crossing it.

But the river never stops.

Similarly, a person who waits for all difficulties to disappear before beginning a task will wait forever.

The river represents time.

The flowing water represents the continuous movement of life.

The person standing on the bank represents the procrastinator.

The lesson is that obstacles will never completely disappear. Therefore, one must learn to act despite them.

The Proverb of Varro

Cowley then says:

“The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.”

He attributes the Latin proverb to Varro, the Roman scholar Marcus Terentius Varro:

“Portara itineri longissimam esse.”

The idea is that beginning is often the hardest and most important part of a long journey.

Once a person has actually started, progress becomes possible.

This directly supports Cowley's argument against procrastination. The greatest obstacle is often not the difficulty of the task itself but the reluctance to begin.

Therefore:

“Begin.”

This single command summarizes the practical lesson of the essay.

Julius Caesar: The Man of Expedition

Cowley next gives one of his most striking historical examples:

“Cæsar (the man of expedition above all others)”

Julius Caesar is presented as the opposite of a procrastinator.

Cowley says that whenever Caesar had to cross a river during a journey, he did not waste time searching for:

• a bridge,
• a ford,
• or a ferry.

Instead:

“Flung himself into it immediately, and swam over.”

The example is intentionally exaggerated to emphasize Caesar's extraordinary determination and speed.

The river again represents an obstacle.

The bridge, ford, and ferry represent convenient solutions that may require waiting.

Caesar's action represents the willingness to confront difficulties directly.

Cowley therefore advises his readers to imitate Caesar:

“If we meet with any stops in our way to happiness.”

We should not always wait for obstacles to disappear. We should find a way through them.

The Different Ways of Crossing the River

Cowley humorously lists the excuses of the procrastinator:

“Stay till the waters are low”

“stay till some boats come by”

“stay till a bridge be built for you”

But if one continues waiting for every convenient condition:

“you had even as good stay till the river be quite past.”

This is an excellent illustration of procrastination.

A person may always find another reason to delay. The water is too high; there is no boat; there is no bridge; the circumstances are inconvenient.

But eventually the opportunity itself disappears.

Persius and the Endless Tomorrows

Cowley then turns to the Roman satirist Persius. He humorously criticizes Persius's poetic obscurity but nevertheless praises one of his expressions as imaginative.

Persius writes:

“Jam eras hesternum consumpsimus, ecce aliud cras
egerit hos annos.”

Cowley's translation is:

“Our yesterday's to-morrow now is gone,
And still a new to-morrow does come on;
We by to-morrows draw up all our store,
Till the exhausted well can yield no more.”

This is another central illustration of procrastination.

A person continually says “tomorrow.” But when tomorrow arrives, it becomes today, and the person invents another tomorrow.

Thus:

Tomorrow becomes today.
Today becomes yesterday.
Yet another tomorrow takes its place.

Eventually the store of time is exhausted.

The metaphor of the “exhausted well” is especially powerful. Human life is like a well containing a limited amount of water. If the water is continually drawn out, eventually nothing remains.

 

The Final Classical References: Seneca and Plutarch

At the end of the essay, Cowley says that he could overwhelm his friend by bringing forward the arguments of:

Seneca and Plutarch

on the subject.

Seneca, the Roman Stoic philosopher, wrote extensively about the proper use of time and the wastefulness of human life. Plutarch, the Greek biographer and moral philosopher, also wrote about human conduct, character, and the proper use of life.

Cowley humorously describes them as: “triarii”

This is a military reference. In the Roman army, the triarii were experienced soldiers kept in reserve and brought into battle when necessary.

Cowley therefore jokes that Seneca and Plutarch are his reserve forces. He does not even need to bring them fully into the argument because his earlier examples are sufficient.

This ending demonstrates Cowley's wit and classical scholarship.

 

Major Theme: Procrastination

The principal theme of the essay is the destructive nature of procrastination.

Cowley shows that procrastination occurs when people:

• wait for better circumstances,
• desire greater wealth,
• seek perfect security,
• fear difficulties,
• wait for obstacles to disappear,
• value comfort more than action,
• or continually postpone work until tomorrow.

His message is that such delay is dangerous because time is continuously moving.

 

The Theme of Time

Time is the central philosophical concern of the essay.

Cowley repeatedly reminds the reader that time is:

• limited,
• irreversible,
• more valuable in old age,
• impossible to stop,
• and more precious than material possessions.

The image of the flowing river is particularly important because the river never moves backward.

Similarly, human life moves forward continuously.

 

The Theme of Mortality

Cowley's awareness of mortality gives seriousness to his argument.

He says:

“when the light of life is so near going out”

The metaphor of the candle represents human life.

When the candle is nearly exhausted, it is foolish to spend the remaining light on unnecessary pursuits.

This makes procrastination not merely a practical weakness but a serious misuse of human existence.

 

The Theme of Fortune and Desire

Cowley also examines the relationship between wealth and happiness.

His argument is not that wealth is completely useless. Rather, he suggests that people should not sacrifice the remaining years of their lives in pursuit of wealth.

The example of Epicurus and Pythocles shows that happiness can also be achieved by reducing one's desires.

If we cannot increase our possessions, we can sometimes reduce our wants.

This is an important philosophical alternative to endless ambition.

 

The Theme of Action

Cowley strongly values action.

His repeated commands are:

“Sapere aude; incipe.”

“Begin.”

These words form the practical heart of the essay.

Knowledge without action is insufficient. Plans without action are useless. Good intentions without action accomplish nothing.

The essay therefore encourages courageous beginnings.

 

The Theme of Obstacles

Cowley does not suggest that a person must wait until every difficulty has disappeared.

The river metaphor demonstrates this clearly.

There may never be a perfect bridge.

There may never be a convenient boat.

The waters may never become sufficiently low.

Therefore, one must sometimes enter the river and cross it by whatever means are available.

This is why Caesar becomes an ideal example.

Important Classical and Historical Examples at a Glance

Cowley's argument becomes much clearer when his examples are understood together:

Example	Meaning in the Essay
Joshua	Only someone with extraordinary power could literally stop the movement of time.
Epicurus and Pythocles	A person can become “richer” by reducing desires rather than increasing possessions.
Tantalus-like classical idea of unattained desire	The danger of endless desire and postponed satisfaction.
The ship in a tempest	Use whatever resources remain instead of waiting for ideal conditions.
The gentleman in the Civil Wars	Delay caused by unnecessary ceremony can result in disaster.
Horace	We must “begin” instead of waiting for circumstances to become perfect.
Varro	Beginning is the major part of a long journey.
Julius Caesar	Act immediately and overcome obstacles instead of waiting for convenient arrangements.
Persius	“Tomorrow” continually replaces “tomorrow,” until life is exhausted.
Seneca	Represents classical philosophical wisdom concerning the value and use of time.
Plutarch	Represents moral and philosophical reflection on human conduct.

Cowley’s Use of Quotations and Latin Expressions

One of the distinctive characteristics of the essay is Cowley's frequent use of Latin and French expressions.

Important expressions include:

Cum dignitate otium

Meaning “leisure with dignity.”

This represents the friend's advice that Cowley should acquire sufficient wealth before retiring to study.

Festina lente

Meaning “make haste slowly.”

This represents caution and gradual progress, which Cowley rejects in his particular situation.

Sapere aude; incipe

Meaning “Dare to be wise; begin.”

This is Cowley's preferred principle.

Utere velis, totos pande sinus

Meaning approximately “Use the sails; spread all your sails.”

It means that one should make full use of whatever resources are already available.

Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle

Meaning “The game is not worth the candle.”

It means that the possible reward is not worth the cost when the remaining time is short.

These expressions demonstrate Cowley's learning, but they are not merely decorative. Each one contributes to his argument.

Cowley’s Style

Cowley's style is characterized by wit, humour, irony, classical allusion, metaphor, quotation, and conversational argument.

Although the subject is serious, Cowley does not write in a gloomy manner. He jokes about his own fortune, mocks his friend's Latin maxims, criticizes Persius's obscurity, and humorously describes the gentleman who died because he stopped to adjust his wig.

His style is therefore both scholarly and entertaining.

The essay is also highly personal because it begins as a letter to a friend. The conversational form allows Cowley to disagree with his friend without making the essay sound like a formal philosophical treatise.

Conclusion

Abraham Cowley's “The Danger of Procrastination” is a powerful essay on the importance of beginning, acting, and making proper use of the limited time of human life. What begins as a disagreement between Cowley and Mr. S. L. develops into a universal meditation on the dangers of postponement.

Cowley rejects the advice to wait until he has acquired greater wealth before withdrawing from worldly affairs. Through the examples of Joshua, Epicurus and Pythocles, the gentleman of the Civil Wars, Horace, Varro, Julius Caesar, Persius, Seneca, and Plutarch, he demonstrates that waiting for perfect circumstances can result in the loss of life's most valuable possession—time.

The example of the gentleman who stops to adjust his band and periwig shows how ridiculous and dangerous unnecessary delay can be. Horace's river teaches that time and circumstances will continue to flow regardless of our hesitation. Varro's proverb reminds us that beginning is a major part of any journey. Caesar demonstrates the value of immediate action in the face of obstacles. Persius gives the most memorable image of procrastination: one “tomorrow” disappears only to be replaced by another, until the “exhausted well” of life can yield no more.

Cowley's final philosophy is therefore summed up in Horace's words:

“Sapere aude; incipe.”

Dare to be wise; begin.

The essay teaches that we should not wait for perfect wealth, perfect circumstances, perfect comfort, or the disappearance of every obstacle. Life is moving like a river, and its waters will never stop for us. Therefore, the wise person uses the resources available at the present moment and begins the necessary work without unnecessary delay. Cowley's warning remains universal: the opportunity postponed today may never return tomorrow, and time once lost can never be recovered.

 

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Text

THE DANGER OF PROCRASTINATION.

A letter to Mr. S. L.

I am glad that you approve and applaud my design of withdrawing myself from all tumult and business of the world and consecrating the little rest of my time to those studies to which nature had so motherly inclined me, and from which fortune like a step-mother has so long detained me. But nevertheless, you say—which But is ærugo mera, a rust which spoils the good metal it grows upon. But, you say, you would advise me not to precipitate that resolution, but to stay a while longer with patience and complaisance, till I had gotten such an estate as might afford me, according to the saying of that person whom you and I love very much, and would believe as soon as another man, cum dignitate otium. This were excellent advice to Joshua, who could bid the sun stay too. But there's no fooling with life when it is once turned beyond forty. The seeking for a fortune then is but a desperate after game, it is a hundred to one if a man fling two sixes and recover all; especially if his hand be no luckier than mine. There is some help for all the defects of fortune, for if a man cannot attain to the length of his wishes, he may have his remedy by cutting of them shorter. Epicurus writes a letter to Idomeneus, who was then a very powerful, wealthy, and it seems bountiful person, to recommend to him, who had made so many men rich, one Pythocles, a friend of his, whom he desired to be made a rich man too: But I entreat you that you would not do it just the same way as you have done to many less deserving persons, but in the most gentlemanly manner of obliging him, which is not to add anything to his estate, but to take something from his desires. The sum of this is, that for the uncertain hopes of some conveniences we ought not to defer the execution of a work that is necessary, especially when the use of those things which we would stay for may otherwise be supplied, hut the loss of time never recovered. Nay, further yet, though we were sure to obtain all that we had a mind to, though we were sure of getting never so much by continuing the game, yet when the light of life is so near going out, and ought to be so precious, Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle, the play is not worth the expense of the candle. After having been long tossed in a tempest, if our masts be standing, and we have still sail and tackling enough to carry us to our port, it is no matter for the want of streamers and topgallants; utere velis, totos pande sinus. A gentleman in our late civil wars, when his quarters were beaten up by the enemy, was taken prisoner and lost his life afterwards, only by staying to put on a band and adjust his periwig. He would escape like a person of quality, or not at all, and died the noble martyr of ceremony and gentility. I think your counsel of festina lente is as ill to a man who is flying from the world, as it would have been to that unfortunate well-bred gentleman, who was so cautious as not to fly undecently from his enemies, and therefore I prefer Horace's advice before yours.

———Sapere aude; incipe.

Begin: the getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey. Varro teaches us that Latin proverb, Portara itineri longissimam esse. But to return to Horace,

———Sapere aude;
Incipe. Vivendi qui recte prorogat horam
Rusticus expectat dum labitur amnis; at ille
Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis ævum.

Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise;
He who defers the work from day to day,
Does on a river's bank expecting stay,
Till the whole stream which stopped him should be gone,
That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.

Cæsar (the man of expedition above all others) was so far from this folly, that whensoever in a journey he was to cross any river, he never went one foot out of his way for a bridge, or a ford, or a ferry; but flung himself into it immediately, and swam over; and this is the course we ought to imitate if we meet with any stops in our way to happiness. Stay till the waters are low, stay till some boats come by to transport you, stay till a bridge be built for you; you had even as good stay till the river be quite past. Persius (who, you used to say, you do not know whether he be a good poet or no, because you cannot understand him, and whom, therefore, I say, I know to be not a good poet) has an odd expression of these procrastinations, which, methinks, is full of fancy.

Jam eras hesternum consumpsimus, ecce aliud cras
egerit hos annos.

Our yesterday's to-morrow now is gone,
And still a new to-morrow does come on;
We by to-morrows draw up all our store,
Till the exhausted well can yield no more.

And now, I think, I am even with you, for your otium cum dignitate and festina lente, and three or four other more of your new Latin sentences: if I should draw upon you all my forces out of Seneca and Plutarch upon this subject, I should overwhelm you, but I leave those as triarii for your next charges. I shall only give you now a light skirmish out of an epigrammatist, your special good friend, and so, vale.

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Mart. Lib. 5, Ep. 59.

To-morrow you will live, you always cry;
In what far country does this morrow lie,
That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this morrow live?
'Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear
'Twill be both very old and very dear.
To-morrow I will live, the fool does say;
To-day itself's too late, the wise lived yesterday.

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Mart. Lib. 2, Ep. 90.

Wonder not, sir (you who instruct the town
In the true wisdom of the sacred gown),
That I make haste to live, and cannot hold

Patiently out, till I grow rich and old.
Life for delays and doubts no time does give,
None ever yet made haste enough to live.
Let him defer it, whose preposterous care
Omits himself, and reaches to his heir,
Who does his father's bounded stores despise,
And whom his own. too, never can suffice:
My humble thoughts no glittering roofs require,
Or rooms that shine with ought be constant fire.
We ill content the avarice of my sight
With the fair gildings of reflected light:
Pleasures abroad, the sport of Nature yields
Her living fountains, and her smiling fields:
And then at home, what pleasure is 't to see
A little cleanly, cheerful family?
Which if a chaste wife crown, no less in her
Than fortune, I the golden mean prefer.
Too noble, nor too wise, she should not be,
No, nor too rich, too fair, too fond of me.
Thus let my life slide silently away,
With sleep all night, and quiet all the day.