For once, let us go back to the last episode of Tagore's NOSTONEER. Bhupatee has decided to go to Mysore to take up an editor's job, leaving behind a mourning Charulata. His decision to leave Charu has been quite bluntly given expression. He understood Charu was trying to leave the house because Amal was so very much present being absent.
Finally, Bhupatee asks her to come along, but Charu declines.
Why? Why did Charu refuse Bhupatee's invitation?
Tagore, of course, did not leave us with the answer. Thank God, he didn't.
There will always be some questions that we ourselves need to find answers to or keep the search going. Are finding answers more important or the search itself keeps us living in hope that someday we'll find the right answer.
Hahahahaha!!
Amal and Charu created a beautiful world for themselves where the entry for the rest of the world was completely restricted. Nobody was allowed a peep-in. Over a period of time, they adorned the world, which was more real than the real world itself, with the most beautiful part of purest passion. It was actually a beautiful world.
Isn't all the worlds, created by a man and a woman in their closest recesses of the heart buying items from the shop called feelings, the most beautiful? Doing up a house is almost similar till it becomes a home, after some years of living in. How could Charu leave that world and go along with Bhupatee?
Someone has to nurture that world with all the care that sorrow could bring, when one of the resident chooses to say goodbye. Like Amal did, like Elsa did.
The world, once created, cannot be destroyed. However one tries to bring it down, to bomb it out of the face of existence, it survives, because by that time it has become a part of the existence.
The reason why Rick was sure "she will come" and refused Sam's entreaties to go for a long drive and get drunk.
We will never know how long did Charulata nourish that world. My guess is, life long.
And perhaps during one of those never-ending nights, when dawn plays hard to get and that gut-wrenching feeling tries to burst out and declare to the ignorant world about the raging storm ravaging the actual world, Charulata must have had a dream.
The dream of a little girl with a pout in her arms, biting her lower lip with eyes like a pond just after rains, about to overflow. The dream of a little girl comes to remind those two people that the world they had created exists, untainted, unharmed, unscathed. Amratolla Committee will be in session once more. The master-plan of landscaping the little patch of land into a garden of Eden will take shape. Amal and Charu will carry on painting their world with colours and sunshine.
"I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more;
The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame for his key;
And of course there must be something wrong
In wanting to silence any song."
Saturday, March 6, 2010
DREAM OF A LITTLE GIRL
Friday, January 29, 2010
Just a book
Whenever I go to a bookshop, why do I always want to buy a copy of To Kill A Mocking Bird?
Yesterday, after lunch, we walked into a bookshop. Apparently, it is one of the most famous bookshops in Delhi, tucked away in one corner of the Outer Circle, currently under repair. Well, like all bookshops, it also looked rather inviting or rather I want to feel that way. We feel, what we want to feel, isn't it?A couple of days ago, I read an article on this bookshop. It has been graced by names that matter, including the prime minister, to get their share of newspapers and magazines, when they were yet to reach the pinnacle of fame. Notwithstanding, I started browsing the shelves and like meeting old friends, I came across titles to whom, I said, "Hey, how are you? Haven't seen you for a long time."And then I met Atticus Finch. It had a black cover with a sketch of a bird in white and wrapped up in transparent cellophane paper. I took it in my hands and caressed it as if I had met an old friend in a dank apartment after a long time, on a birthday. The rush of emotions was felt along with the questions of where I had been all this time, why didn't I come to meet earlier, it wasn't fair on my part and such sort--that bundle of inexpressible words that go through in that moment of embrace that tries to delete the absence that had been. Both know that the meeting will be fleeting. It will be over in a matter of minutes. One had waited for a long time for the moment and another had travelled a long, long way for the moment to happen. There was nothing surprising about the meeting. No mystery at all. But that existential urge and the carnal craving to make the moment eternal is something worth revisiting a thousand times. Is it the gait of Gregory Peck, a widower, a father of two, a lawyer and an idealist residing in Maycombe country during the years of Depression? Or is it how Jem and Scout was growing up? Or is it just about some fondness or affection? Difficult to explain as emotions, silly emotions, always are. There can be no apparent reason to buy another copy of the book. As it is, we tend to possess two copies of most of the books we possess. Perhaps, it is about liking something so desperately, that one loves to go back to it at the slightest opportunity. There can be no rhyme or reason to it. One should not try to find one too. Else, why should Rick open a salon in Casablanca, where he came because he thought there was water. He was misinformed, he said. He wanted to be misinformed. He liked it that way. Wish I could buy another copy of the book.
Yesterday, after lunch, we walked into a bookshop. Apparently, it is one of the most famous bookshops in Delhi, tucked away in one corner of the Outer Circle, currently under repair. Well, like all bookshops, it also looked rather inviting or rather I want to feel that way. We feel, what we want to feel, isn't it?A couple of days ago, I read an article on this bookshop. It has been graced by names that matter, including the prime minister, to get their share of newspapers and magazines, when they were yet to reach the pinnacle of fame. Notwithstanding, I started browsing the shelves and like meeting old friends, I came across titles to whom, I said, "Hey, how are you? Haven't seen you for a long time."And then I met Atticus Finch. It had a black cover with a sketch of a bird in white and wrapped up in transparent cellophane paper. I took it in my hands and caressed it as if I had met an old friend in a dank apartment after a long time, on a birthday. The rush of emotions was felt along with the questions of where I had been all this time, why didn't I come to meet earlier, it wasn't fair on my part and such sort--that bundle of inexpressible words that go through in that moment of embrace that tries to delete the absence that had been. Both know that the meeting will be fleeting. It will be over in a matter of minutes. One had waited for a long time for the moment and another had travelled a long, long way for the moment to happen. There was nothing surprising about the meeting. No mystery at all. But that existential urge and the carnal craving to make the moment eternal is something worth revisiting a thousand times. Is it the gait of Gregory Peck, a widower, a father of two, a lawyer and an idealist residing in Maycombe country during the years of Depression? Or is it how Jem and Scout was growing up? Or is it just about some fondness or affection? Difficult to explain as emotions, silly emotions, always are. There can be no apparent reason to buy another copy of the book. As it is, we tend to possess two copies of most of the books we possess. Perhaps, it is about liking something so desperately, that one loves to go back to it at the slightest opportunity. There can be no rhyme or reason to it. One should not try to find one too. Else, why should Rick open a salon in Casablanca, where he came because he thought there was water. He was misinformed, he said. He wanted to be misinformed. He liked it that way. Wish I could buy another copy of the book.
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