There are normal days and then there are Book Fairs. And there are crazy ideas like abstinence. And there are crazier ones called rebellion. Albeit tiny ones. Last year I desired to marry a book fair. I am keeping the mistresses called art museum and uh, others out of the picture right now because, just because.
The ended up with me two books richer. The first is a very very thin volume of Kahlil Gibran's stories and poems called Between Night and Morn and it's about time I did one of those type out a whole of quotes thingamajig. I actually only did that once for Wilde. Dorian Gray.
Already getting lost and dreamy nostalgicising. So I open up a random page and it's all filled with the slot machine quality where I read three words and three pages of brand new blog material crap oozes out of me, sprinting and whizzing around in my brain with no exits around. I'm hoping the thoughts don't die of exhaustion while I copy word to word of the awesomeness I just read.
The story is called the Tempest and this is the excerpt which will show our fiery red spark of love and how he had me at the No.
"No, my brother, I did not seek solitude for religious purposes, but solely to avoid the people and their laws, their teachings and their traditions, their ideas and their clamour and their wailing.
I sought solitude in order to keep from seeing the faces of men who sell themselves and buy with the same price that which is lower than they are, spiritually and materially.
I sought solitude in order that I might not encounter the women who walk proudly, with one thousand smiles upon their lips, which in the depths of their thousands of hearts there is one purpose.
I sought solitude in order to conceal myself from those self-satisfied individuals who see the spectre of knowledge in their dreams and believe that they have attained their goal.
I fled from society to avoid those who see but the phantom of truth in their awakening, and shout to the world that they have acquired completely the essence of truth.
I deserted the world and sought solitude because I became tired of rendering courtesy to those multitudes who believe that humility is a sort of weakness, and mercy a kind of cowardice, and snobbery a form of strength.
I sought solitude because my soul wearied of association with those who believed that the sun and moon and stars do not rise save from their coffers, and do not set except in their gardens.
I ran from the office-seekers who shatter the earthly fate of the people while throwing into their eyes golden dust and filling their ears with sounds of meaningless talk.
I departed from the ministers who do not live according to their sermons, and who demand of the people that which they do not solicit of themselves.
I sought solitude because I loathe that great and terrible institution which the people call civilization - that symmetrical monstrosity erected upon the perpetual misery of human kinds."
And I fell for a madman. Another part from where he's explaining the difference or a lack thereof between the east and the west:
"Hypocrisy will always remain, even if her finger tips are coloured and polished; and Deceit will never change even if her touch becomes soft and delicate; and Falsehood will never turn into Truth even if you dress her up with silken robes and place her in the palace; and Greed will not become Contentment; no will Crime become Virtue. And Eternal Slavery to teachings, to custom, and to history will remain Slavery even when she paints her face and disguises her voice. Slavery in all her horrible form, even if she calls herself Liberty."
And thus, momentarily life was complete. And fleetingly love was felt again. And the decision to reclusify myself was cemented. This book was bought for a total of TEN Indian Rupees and a translation of Gulzar's poems is another which I have not yet opened except when I read through one too many poems standing at the stall, smiling like a doofus. Lines of love in the next installment.
Such happiness.
16 September 2012
Tonight's the night.
Except being an allusion to just the awesomest lines in TV history, the words actually mean something. When the scholastic sword and swinging dangerously over your head and it's always a reminder of what actually should be done. Shamelessly blog about it and everything under the sun. And the black clouds, and the sun again, then clouds.. oh hell.
Constant use of public transport makes you question a lot of things and then curse still more. Going by the words of Shaw, all great truths are first blasphemies or something in that line, I happen to realise as it so happens (in a very dictatorial leaning).. that the "right" to give birth should be reserved for a certain section of people. Perhaps it comes from the idea that homosexuals do not really partner up to make little people. Just like the setting up of the institution of marriage, there's a certain sense of duty/ responsibility or a necessity traditionally, to make children. While it can be argued that it's more biological than social, human nature does not really put up a brave fight in the face of social construct.
A lot of psychological leetspeak can be stuffed here but when it comes to being squashed against strangers in a lurching metro train, I'd take evil dictatorial misanthropic thoughts any day. The criteria for this "privilege" to have children can be various. But it always comes to who's gonna decide. I could put in a lot of hogwash but only in theory. Applying it might only be possible post-apocalypse. Perhaps in a novel of the Utopian sort.
Money always comes first when such things are thought of. But inherently flawed and perfect at the same time, since whatever criteria is set, in the end it will be wealth. I think that arranged marriage is such an antithesis to the process of natural selection (which is dead anyway, but a girl can dream), but gazing stoically at the gluey couples who don't let me read in peace, chattering away to marriage, my heart cries sinking a little bit lower that when mediocrity meets mediocrity, nothing's gonna matter.
This sense of personal liberty that everyone enjoys over their bodies, personal lives and whatever the hell they do all the time, it is just wrong. But the do gooder earthling in me tip toes on the fence among hate and the centuries of struggle the world has gone through to achieve such personal liberty. Sigh. Only in books, that is all. And films. And just the best thing to hit mainstream television. When it is fifteen days later, I shall be home and I shall feel being home in the way it was intended. It will be the night when things don't matter and only a godlike will to kill shall reign. Very, very sexily. Dexter.
This would probably feel a lot more psychopathetic if it wasn't for him, so thank you. Selfishly, Yours Truly.
Constant use of public transport makes you question a lot of things and then curse still more. Going by the words of Shaw, all great truths are first blasphemies or something in that line, I happen to realise as it so happens (in a very dictatorial leaning).. that the "right" to give birth should be reserved for a certain section of people. Perhaps it comes from the idea that homosexuals do not really partner up to make little people. Just like the setting up of the institution of marriage, there's a certain sense of duty/ responsibility or a necessity traditionally, to make children. While it can be argued that it's more biological than social, human nature does not really put up a brave fight in the face of social construct.
A lot of psychological leetspeak can be stuffed here but when it comes to being squashed against strangers in a lurching metro train, I'd take evil dictatorial misanthropic thoughts any day. The criteria for this "privilege" to have children can be various. But it always comes to who's gonna decide. I could put in a lot of hogwash but only in theory. Applying it might only be possible post-apocalypse. Perhaps in a novel of the Utopian sort.
Money always comes first when such things are thought of. But inherently flawed and perfect at the same time, since whatever criteria is set, in the end it will be wealth. I think that arranged marriage is such an antithesis to the process of natural selection (which is dead anyway, but a girl can dream), but gazing stoically at the gluey couples who don't let me read in peace, chattering away to marriage, my heart cries sinking a little bit lower that when mediocrity meets mediocrity, nothing's gonna matter.
This sense of personal liberty that everyone enjoys over their bodies, personal lives and whatever the hell they do all the time, it is just wrong. But the do gooder earthling in me tip toes on the fence among hate and the centuries of struggle the world has gone through to achieve such personal liberty. Sigh. Only in books, that is all. And films. And just the best thing to hit mainstream television. When it is fifteen days later, I shall be home and I shall feel being home in the way it was intended. It will be the night when things don't matter and only a godlike will to kill shall reign. Very, very sexily. Dexter.
This would probably feel a lot more psychopathetic if it wasn't for him, so thank you. Selfishly, Yours Truly.
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