From the perilous times of the Raj, the peasant treads from the photo journals of W.W.
Hooper to the cosmic trail of the Coke locomotive, from the 1st and 2nd World Wars to
Vidarbha via the last supper, Absinthe in Paris, and the Livadia Palace in Yalta. The peasant
is a constant, the rabbit always running past him and telling the world that he’s late, Neem
Karoli Baba assuring him that all men are equal. Equality is offered to the peasant at all the
last suppers where not he but Jesus Christ is betrayed for a few pieces of silver. Who wins at
the end, that’s the moot question? Is it the imperialists? Judas? The multi-million dollar
conglomerates? Or the present-day despotic governments under which the common man
feels overtaxed and powerless?
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