Philosophers are a breed apart and reign supreme as far as brainy reputations go. Reading the thoughts and ideas of such great minds spread over history tends to create an aura of awe around their persona. We are inspired by how they have discussed and resolved seemingly intractably difficult moral or other questions with the nonchalance of true genius. The force of their intellect pulsates energy, continuing to influence our thoughts and moulding our perception of existence even now. What supreme power – to have a hold on imaginations across the barrier of time!

I had always liked to envisage how they would have interacted with other, ordinary people in the society. It must have been quite a challenge for them to discuss mundane matters. I mean having pondered on immortality or other such knotty intellectual subjects, it would have been difficult to switch attention and focus instead on the more mundane matters. That is probably why most of them tend to come across as pretty abrasive if not outright rude in terms of their communication style. But they were humans after all, with the plethora of emotions which comes with this package.

So what about that most interesting and irresistible of all such emotions called love? What about their exploits in that field? I had always believed that they would have had an unfair advantage here. Who could have resisted conquest by such minds? I would envisage them wooing queens, princesses and other noble women by the dozen…

Ah, I would visualize a romantic rendezvous of Socrates, the man who accepted death rather than submit even a token apology for his ideas. Which beloved could have dared say no to him. Or imagine the desire a passionate love letter by Dostoyevsky would have aroused in a maiden – being addressed by someone whose work influenced such great minds as Camus and Sartre. Or the thought of whispered sweet nothings with Goethe, a rare breed indeed, a German whose works revolved around romance.

Then one day that infinitely intangible commodity, curiosity, took over. I started reading up on the lives of the more famous philosophers in history. And to my amazement I found that instead of it being a case of innumerable conquests it was more of a case of never ending failures. Looks like the only place these boys had any standing was in the head! Very few were even modestly successful in love.

The vast majority could not for the life of them impress the women they desired, and for that matter given their rather equal opportunity attitude in the matters of the heart, other beloveds. Talk of failing even the most basic of entrance tests! And it was not because of lack of trying! All the philosophy rendered useless when it really mattered…

Even more amazing were the pretty biased and base behaviors most of them seemed to embrace and the character weaknesses they exhibited. I still remember the time when we were taught that ethics was a key area of focus for philosophy. Looking at the life of most of the renowned philosophers now makes me wonder whether they missed this point altogether. Being certified misogynists seems to be a common characteristic. Little wonder that they had such a terrible time with women.

Aristotle though that women were monstrosities of nature (well, substitute women with the term wives and most of the married men may well still hold this view). Plato, yes the guy who is synonymous with the term platonic love, believed in a rather strange form of socialism: women were to be common property for the good of society! Bet you he was not very popular with the ladies in Athens. Diogenes held the same thoughts. Bertrand Russell married four times, and had unofficial relationships with two other women. This from a man who proclaimed that he only lived for three things: the longing for love, the search for knowledge and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. Well he certainly set the par for the first one…

Sartre imagined at one time that he was being followed by crabs! Tolstoy shared his secret diary with his wife on the wedding night, the diary being a blow by blow account of his rather intimate knowledge of a multitude of ladies of easy virtue. Goethe indulged in taboo love. Nietzsche was a certified lunatic for the last eleven years of his life. Looking at his works he should have been committed much earlier. Rousseau referred to his wife as the “housekeeper”. Schopenhauer longed to restore women to their rightful and natural position in the society, a subordinate one!

Socrates seems to be the only one somewhat normal among the lot. Having just had a pitcher of water broken on his head after a rather friendly debate with his wife, he very astutely observed that “it always rains after a thunderstorm!”

And these are the people who came up with brilliant discourses on such varied subjects such as aesthetics, distributive justice, ethics, existentialist concepts, logic etc. to name a few. How did they ever manage that? Yet another question, what use is philosophy then? Will the message still hold the same grip on my imagination as before?

Perhaps the value lies in, as Russell states, in the very concept that there are no definite answers and the cause of self awareness is furthered by the questions themselves; challenging established truths, enriches our intellectual imagination and removes false assurances which closes the mind against speculation. Above all, because through the greatness of the universe which philosophy contemplates, the mind also is rendered great, and becomes capable of that union with the universe which constitutes its highest good.

I would not like to see the idols of my youth fall flat on their faces. I would like to think that perhaps they dwell in a dimension of their own; that there is another heaven and earth beyond the world of men which they seek. However, unfortunately, while my heart pleads mercy my mind cannot overlook the fact that these Gurus of wisdom had feet of clay…