By Babujee (Guest Blogger)
If one does a Shakespearean character analysis of the protagonist of my novel, Crimson Mirage, and looks for the ‘seed’ of his destruction, it was hero worship and role models. Manush wanted to follow the footsteps of his idols and got it horribly wrong. How can one go astray following the role models?
Let’s talk about heroes. We grow up surrounded by them—those larger-than-life figures who inspire us with their bravery, truthfulness, or incredible moral compass. As kids, we’re fed stories about these shining beacons of humanity, and we’re told to aspire to be just like them. But let’s dig a little deeper—how does this “hero culture” play out?
Take George Washington and the famous cherry tree story. You know, the one where little George confesses, “I cannot tell a lie,” after chopping down a tree? It’s a great tale, but spoiler alert: it probably never happened. The point wasn’t historical accuracy; it was about presenting truthfulness as an American ideal. The irony, of course, is that plenty of people in real life do lie. Still, the story stuck because it symbolized what Americans hoped to be.
And it’s not just the U.S. Ancient Rome had its own hero figures, like Cincinnatus, the farmer who reluctantly saved the Republic and then went back to his plow. Noble, right? But in reality, Rome was famous for politics, power struggles, and shameless self-promotion. Cultures create these stories not just to make us better people, but to justify bigger things—wars, colonization, or even just the way things are. Heroes and villains, the flip side of the heroes, become tools to explain why one country gets to invade another or why one group claims superiority.
Take the British Empire, for example. To justify looting India (then called Bharat), they dehumanized the locals, calling them “savages” or “uncivilized.” That narrative made it easier to plunder resources and call it progress. It’s an uncomfortable truth, but history is filled with examples like this.
What’s fascinating is how heroes and villains can flip depending on the perspective. George Washington, beloved American hero, was seen as a treasonous troublemaker by Britain’s King George III. It’s all about where you’re standing. Sometimes, though, the whole hero-villain thing is completely arbitrary. Remember Sophocles’ drama Antigone? The king, Kreon, declares one brother, Eteocles, a hero and the other, Polynices, a traitor. Antigone begs to give Polynices a proper burial, but Kreon refuses, only to let slip a secret: the brothers’ mangled bodies were so indistinguishable that they just divided the remains and gave one portion a hero’s funeral and left the rest to rot outside the city. Kreon himself didn’t know which body was honored or condemned. All he needed was a hero and a villain.
So, how does this play out in our lives? As children, we idolize these heroic figures, imagining ourselves brave, truthful, and noble. But as we grow up, life throws reality at us—money, power, and comfort often take precedence over ideals. If someone clings to their childhood hero worship and refuses to compromise with the real world, like our protagonist Manush, they might feel alienated. Worse, they might turn extreme in their beliefs, unwilling to let go of the purity they see in their role models.
When analyzed, many of the heroes we idolize didn’t achieve their glory through gentle means. They were violent, fought battles, spilled blood, and outmaneuvered their rivals. Could celebrating these figures plant the seeds of aggression or extremism in some? Is the relentless pursuit of “heroic” ideals driving people to unhealthy extremes?
It’s worth asking whether this hero-villain obsession is healthy. Sure, it gives us figures to look up to, but it also glosses over the complexity of real life. People aren’t just heroes or villains—they’re a messy mix of good and bad, driven by circumstance and opportunity. Most of the Greek “heroes” were not good or congenial persons; you won’t invite them for a cup of coffee!.
Just condemning evil acts as something “other people” do lets us off the hook too easily. It’s more uncomfortable, but more honest, to admit that anyone—even you or me could be capable of terrible things under the right (or wrong) circumstances. The scary part isn’t just the existence of evil—it’s realizing that it could just as easily be us.
Maybe it’s time to rethink the stories we tell about heroes and villains. They shape how we see the world, ourselves, and each other. Maybe the real heroism is recognizing our flaws and striving to be better, not for glory or applause, but simply because it’s the right thing to do.
Blurb
Manush is all of these—and more. Caught between the heat of first love and the fire of revolution, he confuses desire with destiny and activism with annihilation. What begins with tender hope ends in blood-soaked betrayal.
Set against the turbulent backdrop of Calcutta’s Naxalite uprising, this haunting debut novel unravels the journey of a boy-turned-assassin—his convictions twisted, his soul scarred, his story unforgettable.
The author grew up in the heart of this upheaval, witnessing firsthand how political fervor tore through families and futures. Crimson Mirage is not just fiction—it’s a reckoning. A meditation on blind love, brutal reprisals, and the elusive promise of freedom.
Excerpt
WASH YOUR HANDS!” the ice-cold voice cut through the stillness of the crisp mountain air and broke through his zombie state.
Manush didn’t remember how long he had been sitting on the rock!
The sun had slid slowly, silently below the horizon of the San Bernardino Mountains. The wind was freshening. The clouds riding the salty air of the Pacific Ocean were changing shade, from angry yellow to flaming crimson, in the harsh, upward glare of a late sunset hour. Venus was still the brightest speck in the sky in the midst of the orange-gold scatter of softly gathering twilight.
From not too far off, a mountain goat with cloven hooves—browsing brush and low-growing shrubs—sidled up to him, fixing its malevolent, yellow gaze on him. Far overhead, a homebound chickadee went ‘chickadee-dee-dee’ as it traced its solitary path eastwards.
To the northwest, the cliffs fell sheer to the ravine below, their surface unbroken. The shadows were lengthening across the vast valley lying snugly among the hills. And now, there were blotches of darkness slowly eating away the green. But the full umbra of the sun’s retirement was yet to descend upon the sprawling, rugged landscape.
“Wash your hands!” the voice was insistent in its urgency.
Manush sat upright with a start. He convulsed—first in astonishment, then with fear—as he looked incredulously at Jeevan.
Jeevan was smiling… his usual shy, reassured smile. He had not aged at all! His thick black hair swept back from his forehead, the creaseless, unblemished young skin on his face a contrast to the light growth of hair on his chin. Jeevan looked just like the post-mortem photograph the police had shown him.
About the Author
The author is a professional who grew up in Kolkata during the turbulent times that serve as the backdrop of this novel. He has written short stories and articles. This is his debut novel. More of his writing at https://babujee.substack.com/archive
Website: https://mailchi.mp/996745dceee3/crimson-mirage
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Crimson-Mirage-Red-Road-Romance-ebook/dp/B0FNKXKRFD/ref=sr_1_1
Babujee will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner.
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