A Brief History of Lies?

Stephen Hawking is a respected and renowned scientist. He is also the latest tragedy king. His wife, it is alleged, has been battering him. In the past one year he has been hospitalised for gashes, cuts and broken bones. The accusations have come from his carers and nurses. I wonder what has happened in this one year that has made them suddenly conscious of what a dragon Elaine Hawking is. Has she begun calling her husband, “Thicko” and “Dumbo” only recently? Why is it assumed that he is completely innocent?

Professor Hawking is a natural case for sympathy – he has been confined to a wheelchair and can only speak and communicate through a computer. His achievements despite this are to be lauded. But an achiever is not necessarily a nice person. Let us not forget that he dumped his wife of 26 years, who had nursed and cared for him and bore him three children, when he got attracted to Elaine, who was ironically one of his carers.

I know what you will say: he has taken up for her; he has said that the stories are false, that his wife and he love each other, and that he is alive today only because of her. This qualifies him for a double dose of sympathy. Here is this man who has suffered naturally and through insensitivity and yet he is standing by his woman. Interestingly, he has added that the media should respect his privacy “and allow me to focus on recovering from my illness”.

It must be noted, therefore, that the police are pursuing the case and will question his wife. Amazing. If a woman were to show her wounds and stand by her man, it would be assumed that the allegations are false. Here the issues are about being a celebrity, a physically weak person saddled with a strong woman and a Male. It is said Elaine has been rough with him. Couldn’t Hawking be kinky? But will the world be ready to believe it?

Take the case of Paul McCartney. While it would be charitable not to question his wonderful relationship with his late wife Linda, I think there is some substance in the fact that he became a “huge celebrity widower”. He went to town about the tragedy, released her less-than-adequate music posthumously, not so much to commemorate her memory, but to be this darned cute ‘boy’. As one biography of The Beatles says, “Ironically, the tragedy was to bring him more into the limelight than at any time since his Beatles days.” He was said to be a great PR guy, who would mutter under his breath about the fans mobbing the group even as he continued to smile and wave at them. The description of him as being, “far nicer than he had to be certainly, but nowhere near as unfailingly nice as he pretended” is a complete indictment.

Publicising grief is good business. It is easy to be taken in by the dramatic sweep of such a man, and because it is subtle you do not even suspect it. He oozes something genuine through his pores – don’t forget he has worked up a sweat. If the cocky cock on the walk is so obviously conscious about his image, our man with causes and concerns will guard his ‘reputation’.

In private though he may be quite a different number. Like this person known for his humane attitude had no compunctions telling his wife who wanted to adopt a child, “Gosh, you will probably find some handicapped kid.” So? Wasn’t he the one who gave valuable time to making the less privileged feel good? Ah, but that was outside the home. This sort of man has very convenient different standards for what he is and what he wants to portray. A grieving man, even if he is responsible for his own situation, is manna from heaven for the vultures hanging around. You know the kind with village-level curiosity, small-town mentality, and very big aspirations. Most of them are frustrated fellows, who get voyeuristic delight when they get to hear about another’s travails.

If you think women are always on the ready to weep about their suffering, you have to see some of these men. A woman will maintain decorum, and if she cannot she will complain in a straightforward manner. The man will not do that. He will talk about circumstances, about Fate’s twists and turns, about his need to put his life in order. And he will tell all this to every second man he meets. This is part of his PR scheme – how to win friends and influence jerks.

He likes to see your hands soaked in blood. So he will make you dip your palm into all the red he has splattered around. He has perfected this martyr act; tried, tested, patented and declared to be completely non-perishable.

He thinks the past is chasing him, and the future catching up. He is unaware of the present. He depends on women to give him a lot – of himself. One wrong move from her, and he will be banging his head against his neighbour’s wall, so that he can sue for damages. He garbs it all as anguish against the System. He is often busy seen to be beating his fetish for the moment. No woman can visualise durability in this man, since he is rarely there in spirit. His physical presence is to remind her that his life is beyond repair. And then he watches from the corner of his eye for her to melt. Most women do.

He has his agenda clear. He never makes a pass, he respects women, he will in fact make a huge production of it, and he will play the equality card with great panache in public. But look closer. He does not make a pass because he either does not know how to or he thinks tears will work better; if he respected women, he would not be making his personal life into a circus, where not only is there an audience but also trapeze artists hovering over him ready to rescue the tragic clown, when all he will do is have the last laugh; as for equality, yes, he believes that he is more equal to the woman simply because he has taken on the onerous task of being with her.

I sometimes wonder how this creature manages to enjoy himself at all. Perhaps he sits around watching the hourglass and counting the grains of sand. A brief history of time, indeed.