I claim intellectual rights to what I write. I claim to be credited for a piece of poem I created. But deep down from the bottom of my heart I know I am guilty of stealing. I'm guilty of stealing ideas, melodies, words from the previous generation. Philosophically we all are thieves and you would die if you do not steal intellect.
How we learned to steal?
Remember there was a time, you were mumbling? Trying to speak out a monosyllabic, or bisyllable. And after months and months of hearing your parents call you started saying those words "mama" "papa". And that is the beginning of our journey of intellectual theft. Well you can say that is not theft at all. They wanted me to know them. And they gave it for free.
Yes they gave it free in the kindergarten. Almost free for 12 years in school. Even in higher education. Knowledge is free. So we did not feel we were stealing. Now packed with all the knowledge and words accumulated over the years from all the free universe, I built upon this a hypothesis. And generate some new knowledge. And add a new word to human knowledge and what I do?
I label it as my poem. My novel. My blog. My picture. My f-c-ing property. It is understood why I do this. If it didn't have a potential which is called "money" and "fame" then nobody would even care for human knowledge. Nobody would conduct an experiment. And we all will die relatively dumber than our immediate previous generation. However the game of trying to succeed each other did push us over all the imaginary boundaries. So I do not blame the game of stealing that we play. After all that's what made us capable of creating miracles.
Why we all are thieves stealing from nature.
And it's been decades passed that we lost the value of abundant nature and shifted them to poems.
I often do this. When I see a mesmerising sunset, I create a poem out of it. I take a photograph for free. And I do not pay a penny to the sun or the moon. I proudly present it to my friend and expect appreciation. Like I have created the colors from my kodak camera using my eyes. I take my paintbrush and recreate it on a canvas which is out of some cut down trees. And preserve the colors, over time. An approximation of nature. I have stolen from nature, but have no shame in presenting in a grand ballroom in front of a crowd from elite society and call myself an artist in doing so. I appear to be an artist not a thief among every other thief.
I am learning mathematics. Thanks to the generation of teachers who wrote them in books. Free of charge. I learn them deep enough so I can carry on learning on my own. A new realm of abstraction. And suddenly I find a solution for an unsolvable equation. And I present a paper proudly in front of other mathematicians and win the nobel prize. When their faces frown with jealousy I call myself a successful mathematician. Not a thief.
I learn about life, build a circle of friends. Follow rules to start a business. With the help of thousands of enthusiastic individuals stealing time of their consciousness, which they should be using to investigate themselves. And I exploit this by paying them hourly to build something novel, a flying car or an 8G Internet. And I call myself a brilliant successful entrepreneur not a thief.
Will I get caught?
But on my deathbed, I realise it's all just part of the illusion. The selfish representation of my existence can be called as all of my possessions that I stole. I am sure they will last for everyone else, but not for me. After I am dead. Finally I can agree I have been a thief all my life, confess to the devil and expect to return to my heaven.
The question is should I be allowed?
Is there a way to not be a thief?
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