I Thought of Writing...
I was being repeatedly interrogated as to why I was not updating my blog...Well, I thought that since I usually spit out some really morbid shit, I should temporarily defer my intellectual outpourings to a happier date...So to inspire myself that the world is not a totally unfortunate place and that I too am capable of 'happy' thoughts, I decided to revive the nascent optimist in me by reading some 'fast-reads' kind of novels...(Notice how I say 'nascent' and not 'dormant'...) Well, blunder of all mother of blunders I picked up some tongue-in-cheek Indo-Brit/ Indo-American novels where the protagonist (all girls, mind you...)are in search of their ever-elusive Indian roots (in oh-my-God-please-don't-bend-over miniskirts...ahem)...Books on the usual identity crisis of the ABCD (American-Born Confused Desi)... Stuff to read on the train perhaps or may be, if you're hit with a temporary spasm of insanity like yours truly...
Now, I'm hardly writer enough to call the kettle black...But as is the way of the world, if you can't do something...you can become its 'critic'... To be honest, these authors have some tolerable sentences but the books have that forced idea of India full of salwar kameezes, arranged marriages and lack of women's liberalisation (Makes me wanna elope in a bikini to the nearest women's rights meeting right this instant!)...
Again we won't pay much attention to my rantings and try to keep the focus...After the rather 'sad' tales of ornate yet conservative Indian culture vis-a-vis the exaggerated freedom of the Western world and after putting myself through that self-inflicted ordeal, I picked up the 'Collected Stories' by Gabriel Garcia Marquez...
And I am ecstatic in my declaration that Marquez too is preoccupied with Death and life beyond it...He basically explores the unknown..whether it's the experience of Death or life after it...His language is brilliant... His vocabulary is rich but not rich enough to give the reader mental acidity...Marquez plays with images that signify Death---grave, shadows, insects... The stark reality of the pain that his characters endure before they can finally succumb to the Inevitable was excrutiating even for me as I read and became part of the text...
Marquez delves into the dark recesses of our minds that shuts out the ugly, seedy side of life...that wants to remember only the colour and fragrance of a rose but fails to ackowledge the sensation or pain of the thorns... He forces you to recognise the reality of Death...Death is the only Constant thing... It is not to be feared but to be waited for... Marquez shies away from romanticing Death, much unlike our Romantic Poets... He gives Death its own identity, its charm... Death gets the opportunity to free the Spirit from the agonised Body...But Death fails to redeem itself as there's no freedom for the incorporeal being that flits through walls, rooms and gardens... The Soul trespasses into a new weightless, spaceless world but cannot gain complete trancendence... The inner Spirit is trapped in this other world as it was in its original mortal abode...
Disclaimer- These observations come after reading the first 3 short stories....More on this as I read...But the important thing is (I don't know whether it is good or bad) that I am back with my Faithful Companion--- 'depression'--- with a renewed zest...
Now, I'm hardly writer enough to call the kettle black...But as is the way of the world, if you can't do something...you can become its 'critic'... To be honest, these authors have some tolerable sentences but the books have that forced idea of India full of salwar kameezes, arranged marriages and lack of women's liberalisation (Makes me wanna elope in a bikini to the nearest women's rights meeting right this instant!)...
Again we won't pay much attention to my rantings and try to keep the focus...After the rather 'sad' tales of ornate yet conservative Indian culture vis-a-vis the exaggerated freedom of the Western world and after putting myself through that self-inflicted ordeal, I picked up the 'Collected Stories' by Gabriel Garcia Marquez...
And I am ecstatic in my declaration that Marquez too is preoccupied with Death and life beyond it...He basically explores the unknown..whether it's the experience of Death or life after it...His language is brilliant... His vocabulary is rich but not rich enough to give the reader mental acidity...Marquez plays with images that signify Death---grave, shadows, insects... The stark reality of the pain that his characters endure before they can finally succumb to the Inevitable was excrutiating even for me as I read and became part of the text...
Marquez delves into the dark recesses of our minds that shuts out the ugly, seedy side of life...that wants to remember only the colour and fragrance of a rose but fails to ackowledge the sensation or pain of the thorns... He forces you to recognise the reality of Death...Death is the only Constant thing... It is not to be feared but to be waited for... Marquez shies away from romanticing Death, much unlike our Romantic Poets... He gives Death its own identity, its charm... Death gets the opportunity to free the Spirit from the agonised Body...But Death fails to redeem itself as there's no freedom for the incorporeal being that flits through walls, rooms and gardens... The Soul trespasses into a new weightless, spaceless world but cannot gain complete trancendence... The inner Spirit is trapped in this other world as it was in its original mortal abode...
Disclaimer- These observations come after reading the first 3 short stories....More on this as I read...But the important thing is (I don't know whether it is good or bad) that I am back with my Faithful Companion--- 'depression'--- with a renewed zest...
posted by Shutapa Paul | 12:23 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home