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B. S. Raghavan

Dust is chic. Dust is in. To dust is bourgeois. Smart homes don't do it. All of human life and more is wrapped in a particle of dust.

— Column in The Times.

DUST has acquired a sacrosanct mystique from ancient times. "Dust thou art, to dust returnest" says the Bible. The exhortation of Persian poet, Omar Khayyam, is equally poignant: "Ah, make the most of what you yet may spend", he pleads, "Before you too into the dust descend, Dust unto dust, and under dust to lie, Sans wine, sans song, sans singer and sans end!"

The belief that human beings turn into dust is predicated on the premise that there is only one life to live and once that is over, there is nothing further to be gained or lost. Whereas, the Hindu philosophy, based on the doctrine of karma and rebirth, holds out the prospect, through a succession of lives, of progression or regression depending on one's good or bad deeds in the current life.

Death, therefore, does not mean writing finis. It is only the passage to yet another stage of evolution in order to pay the price of default, or to enjoy the fruits of virtuous conduct. That is why, in the Vedic and Upanishadic concept, dust is not the inevitable beginning and end of the human existence. On the contrary, the Upanishads say: All these worlds come from space. All beings arise from space, and into space they return. Space is, indeed, their beginning, and space is their final end.

Let me drop with a plop from high-falutin metaphysics on to matters of mundane interest concerning dust. The very mention of the word makes me mad. Do not make the mistake of thinking that dust is inanimate. It is an intelligent, insidious enemy which knows every subterfuge to hold its own and expand its domain. You wipe it off, and it is back in full force.

The National Book Trust in the UK has obviously given up the battle for lost. Nothing else explains the momentous decision it has recently taken to stop dusting the book shelves and galleries. This flows from a prolonged research into the behaviour of dust pointing to two conclusions: First, books do not take kindly to dusting. They, in fact, resent it, and show it by becoming brittle and falling apart. They love a fine film of dust to settle on them like fragrant talcum powder, since it also acts as a protective shield against any form of damage.

Second, after extensive and intensive studies, it has been found that dust ceases to accumulate after three years. In other words, if you grit your teeth and put up with it for that brief period, all your worries are over. You can live happily ever after with what you have got on the final date of the sacred deadline, with no fear of any further accretion to the mantle of dust on your possessions.

This must, indeed, be great news to everyone. No need any more to be bothered by a feeling of guilt about letting dust invade every nook and crannie of our premises and smuggle itself into everything else within our ken. No more need to take up the broom, brush, duster or vacuum cleaner to fight a losing battle. Just welcome it as your boon companion and relax!

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