In all cases, a person feels distracted and goes around explaining how 9 plus 9 equals 18. That’s the lure of the language. Once you get caught, you get caught. There’s no coming out of it. It’s like searching for that one star you found on the millions-of-star decked sky at one time and looking for it hoping it would pop up somewhere real big, let its presence known and surprise you. The point I am trying to make here is, what started as a topic on blogging ends with Divine Grace and what started as a reason ends with a star-decked sky. You get the connection. Distractions and exaggerations are inevitable when it comes to blog posts.

Life. Hmm

If I were to start writing about it, there wouldn’t be an end. It would be an ongoing article; an epic tale that would capture brilliant moments of reality. The self-conscious “Damn!-what-made-me-do-something-stupid-like-this-what-am-I-going-to-do?” looks that we get from people all around, the emotionally honest kid that tells his relatives what his parents were discussing about them the other day, a friendly smile that adorns people’s faces when we say a genuine thanks, the shopkeeper’s interest and enthusiasm in making me buy all the novels he has when I visit his second-hand bookshop, the way every moment responds to our attitudes and thoughts, a million thoughts flashing across my mind when I badly need them for illustrating purposes, every single moment that extraordinarily has unprecedented uniqueness..

The list is inexhaustible. Any further attempt will be futile and appear to be cliched.

I love the art of coming up with definitions. Creating a conception fascinates me! Here are my definitions of Life;

Life is the integral movement of Time and Space in the plane of Consciousness.

Life is synonymous to Calculus. Life, like Calculus, focuses on limits, derivatives, functions, integrals and infinite series. Calculus is the study of Change. Life is the playground for Change.

As I am writing this, my views on the subject have broadened and I can trace striking similarities between Life and Calculus. I need to delve deeper into the topic to produce an original conception.

There are a million ways Life can be defined. I am stopping with these two for the moment. Thoughts should take shape and take care of themselves. I am going to do nothing about them until they mature.

Coming to the fascinating topic of books, I feel obliged to offer an explanation as to what I have accomplished thus far, in the reading arena. I earlier wrote a post on books that I had planned to read in 2009. I have only covered 4 books from the list but have no qualms about it. I decided to stay off books from the middle of  October and haven’t broken my resolution thus far. Touchwood. For a person like me, staying off books is not easy . I and only I, know what sort of mental energy and determination it takes not to touch them. I will most probably break my resolution on the first of January. A conspicuous irony indeed!

If books add a solid dimension to my life, writing acts as the base. I haven’t been prolific these days since words seem to have taken advantage of the freedom I give them. I need to structure my thoughts and words which have become rebellious. Hmph.

Here’s a poem on life. I am calling it ‘Signs of Life’. A first draft.

The cloudless sky with its abstruse nakedness

and the impatient Sun rising to create horizons,

reveal a gleam of hope; a ray of delight,

the conspicuous signs of Life.

***********

I have conceptualised a theory on Education based on Robert Pirsig’s metaphysics of Quality. Haven’t sought the help of language to put it in words yet. It’s in the mind. The post should be out by the first week of January ‘10.

Powdered ashes

Noiseless annihilation

A fiery tale.

Temporal thoughts

suspended in air

A new beginning.

Soulful music

Enraptured trance

A recurring dream.

Happy faces

non-existent evil

An incomplete life.

Poised equanimity

Presence of Good and Evil

Wisdom transcending Knowledge.

Attraction bordering on infatuation

Unconditional love-like stance

A superficial fairytale.

Cliched metaphors

dramatic love sagas

A subtle anachronism.

Wordless thoughts

Overpowering language

A surreal rhapsody.

Silence of the midnight

Flickering candles

An ironical fate.

Superfluous silence

Unprecedented flow of emotions

The birth of language.

“Had I known you would be having this special conversation with the wind, I would never have come here. Honest. I am sorry. Do you mind telling me when I will have the pleasure of hearing your discussions with the other demigods?”

She broke the silence first, her silvery voice masquerading any sign of laughter.

It was not nature that bowled him over this time. The features of his face found this rare moment to exhibit their finesse,  portraying a big cherubic smile that made her chuckle.

“Why are you always alone? You should be mingling with people to write about them. At this rate I am afraid you will become schizophrenic very soon.” Her eyes betrayed the concern her voice concealed. He didn’t fail to notice the futile attempt of her velvety voice to sound untouched.

“I am not alone, dearest; solitary is the right word. I am absolutely enjoying the company of my self and no, schizophrenia is not a euphemism for being alone”, he laughed, with the characteristic twinkle in his eyes which told her the subject wouldn’t be discussed further.

What can a poor damsel do but sigh when the man of her dreams has a  mental disease! It would be another matter if it were physical, but who can cure the diseases of the mind, that too those of an overgrown kid?

“Listen moron, I am genuinely worried about you” he wouldn’t let her finish the sentence. Before she could even imagine to dare to speak another word, his throaty voice started reciting Boulevard of hazy silence, one of her all-time favorites.

The tortures in the depths of my being

that accompany the darkness of my soul

leave me desolate

in your very hands that protect me.

Harm me, ruin me, destroy me

but never let me live

in this hazy silence.

I will die.

“And who says the wind is masochistic?” He wouldn’t let her advise him, that much was clear. So she tried to lighten up the conversation though she was secretly worried about the darkness in his poems.

“You are my worst critic. Say, why don’t we talk about something interesting? Why don’t you ask me to define abstract entities which I will try answering with a poetic touch?”

She had never seen him like that and she smiled inwardly at his childlike exuberance yet keeping a stiff upper lip.

“You are so narcissitic! I hate you!” she pronounced  the words with mock indignation.

“Hate is not a very good word to start with. Try something else!”

“One can’t argue with you even for arguments’ sake. You are soo …. conceited. Very well, since I am super bored and don’t have anything worthwhile to pay attention to, I might as well listen to whatever gibberish you speak. We may start with love. ”

“This is precisely what I expected from you, sweetheart. Anyway, understanding love and living it are two different things. You might not like what I am going to say but be assured I am not being biased. Love is a magnetic field of force people get attracted to when they have a subconscious wish to experience pain.”

“You son of a.. ” she was so furious that she didn’t know what to do . Standing with her arms akimbo, she glared at him while he guffawed, a gleam taking permanent residence in his deep set eyes.

“Easy. Anyway, I will give you your kind of explanation. With an analogy. In the beautiful relationship between a honeybee and a flower, what the flower has for the honeybee is love and what the honeybee has for the flower is lust. While the flower remains oblivious to the intentions of the bee which visits it only to covet the nectar, the bee ironically, is oblivious to the flower’s sacred devotion. Neither the bee nor the flower can be blamed for it is the rule of nature to impregnate the world with follies.”

“But what makes you think the flower is experiencing pain? The joy of letting the bee make use of its treasure should surpass the pain of separation.” she countered.

“Precisely. But the bee takes advantage of the flower’s magnanimity. The flower gives itself completely to it; it’s an act of total self-giving which is what pure love is all about. The flower may happily let the bee transcend its boundaries and call the act ‘love’ but is it really living a life of love? When it graciously lets the bee make use of its honey, it shines with generosity and why do you think it shrivels and falls when it dies? The untold agony!”

“Does love always end in tragedy then? What a preposterous thought! Don’t let your subjective opinions rule our conversation” she hated his definition of love all the more loving his analogy and his explanation. ‘What would he say about my love for him’ she wondered, not quite willing to broach the topic.

“Did I ever say love is the highest form of relationships? There’s something more to this topic than you think there is. We will save this discussion for a rainy day. The flower-honeybee lovesaga has given me an idea to write an epic poem. Thanks for entertaining me all along. You may leave now”

What followed after this would be anybody’s guess. Suffice to say what started as a war of words ended in a peace of sorts. I leave it to the reader to ramble on with anecdote after anecdote.

This seriously brings a truckload of other questions which I will try answering:

1. Can individuality be inspired?

In my humble opinion, Individuality can NOT be inspired. It’s some kind of a rational force that has its inspiration within. There may be a lot of people like Socrates to inspire you, yes, but only experience can shape an individual. I strongly agree with the empiricists in this regard.

2. If I want to become an awakened socially conscious person, do I need to follow the footsteps of great visionaries?

I would say a big ‘No’ to this question too. You really need to have inspirations, of course, there’s no question about it. Following someone’s footsteps may be deemed as right by certain people but let’s look at it this way. Times have changed and changes have become inevitable. The experiences gained by others may be different compared to yours! Solipsists, I guess will be able to understand what I am trying to convey!

3. When I say “I am a socially awakened individual”, does that mean I am an objectivist?

Freewill may be associated with Objectivism but Individualism, in my opinion, is not. This enlightened self-interest moulds Egoists and exacerbates their condition.

4. Is an Individual subjective or objective?

I would say a fine blend of both subjectivity and objectivity will create an individual.

5. Does a socially awakened individual focus on the end results?

IMO, No. He does his duty (which is a form of Free will) and leaves the rest to God or any supreme power he believes in ( which is a form of Determinism).

6. This isn’t a question but a fact. Socially conscious individuals don’t proclaim themselves to be enlightened. Socrates thought the oracle at Delphi was paradoxical just because it said he was the wisest person. With Individuality comes humility.

Now, delving deeper into the topic, we’ll see what stops a person from becoming an awakened social Individual. The various factors, according to me would be Prejudice, Pretense, Envy, Fear, Conformism and the like. Prejudice gives a man preconceived notions. Preconceived notions can take a man in the wrong path. It might lead him to prejudicial views about everything he seeks or tries to understand. Pretense or hypocrisy makes a person preach what he doesn’t believe in. Indian politicos fall into this category. Envy or Jealousy can make people get influenced by other great people’s views and make them fall into the nadir of self-deprecation and restraint. Fear can stop an ordinary person from pursuing his highest goals. But the virtuous embrace difficulties with equanimity. They are imperturbable. Conformism has every potential to deprive a man of his rationality.

To shape an individual, education, in my humble opinion is the most effective tool. Original thinking as opposed to conventional thinking should be encouraged. Half of our lives is spent reading other people’s materials. By the time we read all the philosophers, we would have started thinking their thoughts.  I don’t mean to say one mustn’t read. One also needs to do some original thinking. Analysing a situation from other people’s perspective will only deprive you of your sanity. A student should be able to tell why the Socratic method is useful and why it may not be useful at other times(This is just an example) . He should be able to articulate clearly why he thinks the Big Bang theory is wrong. Sadly, our educational system is keen on producing slaves rather than individuals.

I had previously written about Classical and Romantic Understanding and its classifications; Conservative classical, Radical classical and conservative romantic and Radical romantic understanding. Let’s just say that of all the types, the persons falling into the first two categories are likely to be become socially awakened individuals. We know that romantics can’t become individuals(Please take a look at the article for definitions). We’ll now discuss conservative classical and radical classical understanding with respect to Individuality briefly.

Does Conservative Classical Understanding create an individual?

While it’s an undeniable fact that people falling into conservative classical category are conformists(not hardcore conformism), they are still classical thinkers. I would personally opine that their thinking is flexible. Flexible as in they don’t have preconceived notions. So they have the highest probablity of becoming Individuals.

The reasons why radical Classical Understanding can not create an Individual

Radical Classical thinkers may be biased or prejudiced because the ambiguity of their thoughts may overweigh their intentions. They have every qualification to become an individual but they lose their individuality with their ego. The social consciousness is reduced to zilch when they let their ego destroy them.

Would like to know your thoughts on the same! I have uploaded the article as a pdf for your convenience!

There is nothing such as the absolute truth. The human mind creates it, only to suffer later. Experience, in my arrogant opinion, is the absolute truth. I defy all rules that bind Homo sapiens. I live by my own rules that sway tumultuously according to a situation. You used to tell me that my insanity keeps me sane. Being sane and having the knowledge that one can be sane are again, two different things. I don’t have to tell you which category I fall into.

In “Waiting for the moon” by Kristin Hannah, Ian Carrick thinks Selena is brain-dead. Now I know the inner meaning of the words. The knots are slowly untying themselves. Wonder how conundrums have started unraveling themselves to me. Some achievement this is!

Now, as I am writing this letter that is going to change both our lives forever, a lopsided grin adorns my tranquil face, making me want to reminisce the memories that I have long shut out of my mind. Hoping even for a little bit of happiness is the sign of the weakest! Life is divine chaos and I embrace it with an open mind and a smiling face. Every dog has its day and I have had mine. Now is the time to let you go. To cling to you would be to destroy you- destroy a part of myself. Now, does that sound like literary nonsense to you? I can’t help it. Remember the time you got angry when I said I hated Wuthering Heights? You are every bit as insane as I am; only you don’t know that you are. Two of a foolish kind we are!

To cut a long story short, I don’t love you. How can a person love herself?  I can’t go around telling myself that I am in love with myself! Forgetting you would be next to impossible. Then again, how can I forget myself? Ah! That’s a really funny thought.

I am not a literary genius to end this letter perfectly. This is a parting letter after all. All I can say is this:  Stay out of my life. I don’t want to talk to you again, yes, or even think of the past.

Anything more would be superfluous. Period.

*********************************

Don’t know what made me write such dark stuff! Blame it on the books I have been reading, of late!

One needs to understand that both classical and romantic understanding have to exist together! A huge split has occurred in the world because of our misconstruing the entire concept.  When I say world, it not only means the outer world. One also needs to understand the fact that one can’t exist without the other.

Now that you have an idea as to what the two kinds of human understanding are, I would like to delve deeper into the topic. I would like to put forth my thoughts on the subject.

God and abstract ideas are the only entities that defy the laws of human understanding. We associate human beings with their corresponding forms and the first thing that strikes a person when talking about another is his appearance. So that would correspond to romantic understanding. We,  human beings exist such that we give importance first to the romantic side and not the classical one. I don’t think people can deny the fact. What, I can hear you asking, happens to blind people then? Simple. They hear a person’s voice and judge him which again falls under romantic understanding. But human beings must see to that they don’t become slaves to their sense organs. The sense organs, which help boost  romantic understanding, may delude a person and make life miserable. Rather than controlling the organs, man, in the name of intellect, gets controlled by them. A man deluded by the sense organs and in turn, by the romantic form, starts leading a hypocritical life.

Abstract ideas like quality and value, on the other hand are classical. You don’t associate pictures to such ideas. The same can be said of God. (By proclaiming so, I wish to make clear that I am not an atheist or an agnostic) I wouldn’t go to the extent of giving a shape to Him. He’s above all that, in my opinion! The point is, why make God another victim of romantic understanding by associating Him with images?

Is it hypocritical to give importance to romantic forms? No, not all. If the sentence were “Is it hypocritical to give importance to romantic forms alone?”, the answer would be a big yes.  As I had mentioned previously, there should be a right mixture of classical and romantic understanding. Humans at first glance, undoubtedly get attracted by the forms. By this, I don’t mean to say one needs to shun romantic understanding at all, because he/she can’t. That’s the way the mind works.

Let’s take for example, the case of books. Supposing a normal person is made to choose between two books. One, Wuthering heights by Emily Bronte or Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. What do you think the average person would go for? Twilight, undoubtedly. Why do you think comics make it big? Or why do you think a normal person has an aptitude for languages and not for other subjects like Science and Maths? Blame it on romantic understanding! In all these cases, the human mind gets attracted by creativity! One is likely to pick up a fantasy fiction novel when compared to a serious novel! I am speaking about a normal person here. I am likely to pick Bronte or Camus or Balzac or any damned author. (Why do I say damned? These people failed to look at the romantic side of human understanding.) I might as well stop with this example because I were to continue talking about books, you might get bored at some point.

Thousands of years ago, primitive men made the best use of romantic understanding. They associated romantic understanding with religion to make people get interested in God. They created images  and sculptures of Him and created parables so people would get acquainted better with their religion. By stating this, I don’t mean to say such parables are fictitious. They may have been true but I personally think the contribution of primitive men to religion must have a special mention here.

Would I call myself the classical kind or the romantic kind? I can’t say! If I were to say that I fall under the former category, that would sound hypocritical because I happen to be a Homo sapien who’s no different from others. I wouldn’t vouch for the latter too, because then again, your intellect gets controlled by the sense organs that pave the way for romantic understanding. When I say romantic, I mean things like creative pursuits. The main basis of art, poetry and literature is romantic understanding. I am perhaps 80% classical and 20% romantic. I don’t have a clue what makes me say so. It might be perversion. Or I might be 60% classical and 40% romantic. But then wait, how can I rely on my thoughts alone to come to a conclusion? Even if I were to consider myself as an intellectual, wouldn’t the stream of thoughts lead me astray by being transient? Is there another medium with which a person can think clearly without getting digressed? Some medium that helps us hold on to our thoughts? This , in my opinion, is the biggest problem with classical understanding. When you get inundated by thoughts, the intellect gets challenged even more, which ultimately results in more thoughts, more views. It’s a bootstrapping problem. You view a thing in various angles and this only exacerbates matters. One second you are happy with the thought that you think suits the thing best but the next moment, before you even know what’s happening, the thought gets transcended to another. When that thought isn’t satisfying, you move on, coming back to square one in the end. You absolutely have no idea why you thought of the problem in the first place. You start thinking about something and end up finding out something else. Romantic understanding seems much better. But I don’t wish to sacrifice my intellect. Even if classical understanding helps me understand nothing, I will only be too happy to stick to it. Now, what’s the thershold of classical understanding? Fanaticism. Insecurity. The feeling of being lost.. but in what? In oneself, maybe! Just like the way one clings to a religion. I wouldn’t call it insanity. To be insane you need to be sane first. How does one measure sanity? Or rather, what is sanity? What does one do in order to be sane? What do you get as a result of fanatic Classical understanding? Sanity in the insane world. Your intellect won’t tell you if you are sane or insane. How can it when you are lost in yourself? The others can’t, too, because they are too busy worrying about your non-existent romantic thinking that their intellect gets attacked by thoughts of jealousy.  So, insanity and sanity are to be understood the other way round when they are spoken.

According to Robert Pirsig, there are two forms of understanding, as we have been discussing all along. According to my hypothesis, the classical and romantic understanding are themselves divided further;  radical classical and romantic understanding and conservative classical and romantic understanding. Radical classical understanding and radical romantic understanding produce non-conformists and Conservative classical understanding and conservative romantic understanding, conformists. People falling under the category, radical classical and romantic understanding, are fanatics, true to the name. I trust you would have got an idea by now.

Your thoughts on the subject are appreciated! If you have any questions as regards my hypothesis, have your say by commenting! But let’s not get too much radical or conservative!

PS: Fo your convenience,  I have uploaded the article  as a pdf on Scribd. Happy reading!

An avalanche of defunct memories are my only possessions now. You made hypocrisy look like the absolute truth and truth, like hypocrisy. You ruined my life making me think I was not fit to live, all the more fueling my inner beast. You and you alone are the reason I am living this moment, in total pain. I learnt all that you taught me with an open mind. Like a child who would listen to every story his mother would say, wishing it were true. If nothing were the truth, why do we go about thinking about the absolute truth and making compromises? You have bereaved me of my senses, my rationality and my inner peace. You made me fall into the pits of depression. Darwin, if he were alive, would have supported me saying “The fittest shall perish”.

As I am writing this letter, I have no qualms about dying. You have made me look at death as the fifth dimension. My fourth dimension was all that you needed to sabotage my life. If you thought I would let you take control of the fifth dimension, you are a damned fool! I am going to make my final and the sanest decision of my life, so spare me your sympathies and condolences. Who wants your sympathy now? I pretty well know how you would react to my death. You would call me a coward. Asking questions at the time of death isn’t so hackneyed. I ask you, you barbarous animals, do you even have the courage to commit what I am doing? You do not even have the courage to carve your destiny let alone invite death. But I am embracing death with open arms, welcoming my lost rationality with a passionate fervor. Ha, there you are! I see tranquility waving at me. Where were you all this time?

A feverish laugh escapes my coarse throat as I fall down, all the way into eternity.

JANUARY 2009

I wanted to become an internet entrepreneur all right. But what do I do first? How do I begin? I started thinking. My cousin Narayanan and I were talking about the internet industry in general when he asked how I liked the idea of starting a magazine in print. He would help me with the marketing and all that. I thought why not but who had the time? I was a final year engineering student who had no resources nor the experience to start something big. Worse, I didn’t have an exposure to the outside world.  I was just another social media enthusiast who wanted to make it big in the internet world. I wasn’t sure if the idea would out for me. An earlier idea of a group blogging venture had not worked out so I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I was confused. I had big connections on the internet world, yes, but that alone wouldn’t suffice.

The day my cousin told me about the idea, I started thinking like crazy. To put it frankly, I was confused. I had to outweigh the positives and negatives. Coming to a conclusion isn’t an easy task when you are super overwhelmed. I knew I had a lot of contacts online, so why not make the most of it? Why not start a digital magazine instead of a magazine in print? After about thinking a LOT, I cut down my options to two. One, start a digital magazine for technology enthusiasts and two, a digital magazine for writers. The very same day, I mailed my social contacts and some of my folks asking them which would be a better idea. Their responses overwhelmed me. I had sent the mail to about 20-25 people and most of them responded. They made me ask a lot of questions and helped me find the inspiration within. Thanks a million, folks, for the support and encouragement you have showering me with! I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for your consistent feedback and wishes.Well, I had finally made a decision. I was going to start a digital magazine for aspiring writers.  Having made the decision, I started approaching bloggers and aspiring writers the same month asking them if they will be interested to write for the magazine. Goes without saying that I got an awesome response.

FEBRUARY AND MARCH 2009

Frankly speaking, I had none to support me. I am talking as regards real work. Soothing words from people did help me, yes, but I did all the work myself that at point I wanted to back away. This was getting too much. I had violent mood swings. Worse, my final year project was going on. I was not going to ignore my academics and start concentrating on this.  But I wouldn’t let the fire die down no matter what. I worked whenever I had the time.  I had to bring the dream to reality no matter what. I was going to win. There was no doubt about it. I wouldn’t let people talk behind my back.

APRIL 2009

By now, I was sure that the magazine would be released in May, after my exams got over. The pdf version of the magazine was also ready. But who would design it? I only knew to write and edit. Not design. That was not my cup of tea. Whom would I approach? Worse, who would do it for free?  I wasn’t sure if this work out at all. I don’t know when or how I approached Cheth but he immediately agreed to help me. I was floating on cloud nine. Why, I would have been the happiest Homo sapien alive if my happiness scale were tested with a meter.

A particular incident that happened the same month perturbed me to an extent but I kept Nietzsche’s saying, “That which does not destroy me makes me stronger“, in mind.

I booked the domain name and hosted it on my dreamhost account, in the third week of April.

MAY 2009

I had my university exams in the second week of May. Thankfully, my university exams got over by 9th! So, I started working from 10th. I had chosen Joomla as the CMS. But when I started working on it, I found it too difficult to customise. I couldn’t install the theme. Simultaneously Chethan was working on the design. I had given him an idea as to how the layout should look. I was not sure when the magazine would be launched. I nearly lost hope. I couldn’t customise the template I had chosen and experienced technical errors to the nth degree. By the third week, I was determined to launch the magazine on 22nd of the same month. I dabbled my time  trying to customise the template, googling the errors and eating and sleeping at odd hours. Things were exacerbated by the fact that my internet connection didn’t work for 2 days. Life was truly hellish. I was desperate.

Cheth attached the magazine in his mail and it was love at first sight.

I reverted to WordPress when Joomla wouldn’t let me experiment with it. My hunt for a theme that could function as a CMS came to an end when I set my eyes on Oulipo. If I were to say that I loved it, it would be an understatement. I customised the theme and decided to give Issuu a try to give my magazine a complete look. It worked perfectly.

I, Writer, India’s first literary digital magazine for aspiring writers was launched on May 22nd, 2009 at 07:30

What more can I ask for? I, for one, don’t value success in terms of materialistic pursuits. Self-satisfaction matters the most to me.I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who’s been with me all along. I would especially like to thank all my Twitter Peeps for their awe-inspiring support. Thanks a million for everything, Tweeps!

JUNE 2009

The next issue of I, the Writer is getting ready and we have had a fantabulous response so far. Check @ithewriter on Twitter for more updates and don’t forget to subscribe to the official blog.

“Do you know what you are to me, honey?” You began, luring me with your words

“The fragrance to the rose.
The myriad-colored glory of the sunrise
to the awakening sky.
The serene beauty of the moon
to the star-decked sky
or the sparkle of the waves
to the somber sea….”

A charismatic smile lingered on your cherubic face,
stirring up the conflicting emotions in me.

I surrendered.

You bereaved me of my self,
leaving faint shades of memories encapsulating my consciousness.

I became we.

Your lustrous eyes
made the gravitational pull of earth look like a joke.

I loved you.

Imperceptible waves of thoughts, swaying tumultuously,
hit the shores of my mind, blinding me.

I desert thee.

Oh ye ghost of rationality, let me rest in peace!

]]> http://thevoiceswith.in/2009/05/midnight-whispers/feed/ 5 http://thevoiceswith.in/2009/04/the-creator/ http://thevoiceswith.in/2009/04/the-creator/#comments Tue, 21 Apr 2009 05:47:52 +0000 rampantheart http://thevoiceswith.in/?p=323 She wiped her dry, sallow cheeks with her trembling fingers. Even tears seemed to desert her as she stood near the door of her mansion, lost in vapid thoughts. She sashayed her head and let her eyes wander, taking in every detail of her possessions-the two-legged chair that her kid used as a toy, the dilapidated bureau that encompassed vacuum, plastic bottles and buckets claiming a strong kinship with abysmal holes, an elderly stove that seemed to have retired from public life, few trustworthy vessels guarding the  stove not aware of its impotency, a handmade shelf with half a dozen lifeless clothes and finally, her own anaemic self. Tears overwhelmed her, extending their fullest support now. They cascaded down slowly yet passionately, clinging to her, wanting to protect her. Her lips quivered, wondering if the viscous fluid was blood. She knew it would be a vain attempt to stop her tears, her only possession filled with life. What started from the pit of her stomach resulted in a hysterical laugh that reverberated through the silent walls. This aroused gasps of pity from her other lifeless possessions. Her cadaverous form took its earlier stance, facing the horizon-facing the cruel outer world that was indifferent to her existence.

Hope is subjective as long as the threshold of pain isn’t crossed. It becomes “Doubt” after the saturation point is reached. Her hope, a result of sheer vulnerability, was facing the same revolutionary crisis. Her heart palpitated as her subjective thoughts struggled to become objective. Her eyes gleamed with a dark light the Moon herself would have contemplated stealing. Hope gave way to doubt, and a million thoughts struck her mind in gargantuan leaps. The corners of her pallid lips twitched.

She watched her kid come back home and kept glaring at him. The dangerous look in her eyes was replaced by a look of uncertain confusion and depression. What was she going to feed him today? Would she do what she did yesterday or the countless nights before? She closed her eyes as she thought of the tool she was using to kill him-Hunger. The one tool that was not biased and was truly a communist. Her heart broke down to a thousand pieces as her kid came up to her. The innocent look in his face and his beautiful smile made her heart swell with peace. She kissed the malnutritioned kid chastely on his forehead. The child looked at his mom eagerly wanting to know if there was anything to eat. The greedy look on his eyes made her want to die at that very instant. She enveloped him in her arms, soaking him with tears of anger and helplessness, wondering why they had to live. The child knew better than to ask anything more and looked away, exhausted, not old enough to question his mother regarding his deprived childhood.

One can’t tell how much longer the puny child and his mother lay across the floor, entwined. One can’t even come to a cliched conclusion that it gave her solace. Her child was the reason she was living. She had no reason to live, if not for him.

She gently rose from the ground as she heard footsteps outside. It was the child’s father- her spouse, the sculptor. She didn’t have to talk to him to find about his inebriated condition.

She knew better than to ask him money. But it was a necessity now. At the rate the child was starving, he would be dead in a month’s time. She painfully knew would never get an answer if she asked where all the money went. It was obvious where it went. She sighed. She needed money. And she wouldn’t let him think she was indifferent to his actions.

“I need some money to buy groceries.”  The confidence in her voice surprised her.

“Who cares if you starve to death? Leave me alone.” He faltered, babbling unintelligible words.

“Please. Our child is dying.” She begged him  secretly wishing she were dead. Had she not been an invalid, she wouldn’t be begging him. She would have stood on her own legs.

“The contract I have signed says I will get the money only after 5 months. Don’t bother me now.” He didn’t, in the least, seemed to care about their son-her son.He fell asleep, snoring loudly.

She knew not whether to laugh to cry. The inhuman human in front of her was one of the most revered sculptors in the entire district. People thought his sculptures had a heavenly aura about them. Were the Gods he sculpted blind? Did God create man or man create Him? The creator in front of her was snoring softly and she sat there looking into the darkness.

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I had been to Kanchipuram a few days before and visited an unfinished temple. I met a sculptor there who took great pains in explaining to us, the Sirpa Shastra. It was an interesting experience, as a whole. But I was perturbed by the way they lived. This made me come up with the question if God created man or it is the other way round. No, I am not an agnostic or an atheist. This is just a fleeting thought.

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