Words elude me like never before. I say I am sorry but they still don't speak with me. This is an attempt in perseverance. I write much like a child who knows she has erred and who, in an awkward nervous fashion keeps standing at the doorway. I too stand there, with my head bowed and hands tied. I am not apologetic for not writing - not here or otherwise. But for that because of which I was not able to talk to myself. Writing would have required an honest reflection and for many days I had kept averting my gaze. But then words precede me, as always. I was 'dropped' and rightly so.
The part of me that writes had ceased to talk to the part of me that wants to write. If it has happened to you, you would know the agony it can cause. It was an injury upon a wound. Words, my precious palanquin bearers, took sides with the former. I choked at times, but I did not have the strength to face me here. For in here one has to be most naked. Brutally, beautifully - naked. And utter exposure needs unfaltering conviction.
I have realised what writing is to me. It's worship, it's prayer, it's the answer. It's the one most honest act I ever do. Something that's as much mine as my own child would be. Even more perhaps. And when I couldn't face myself in words - oh I felt dismembered - as if left abandoned at the outskirts of the same cobbled streets that were (are) home to me.
Often in the past I have thought about how it is the biggest sin - doing what one does not want to do. That there is to be dignity even in one's sins - this dignity toboggans from a 'want' - which is the expression of one's own volition. The 'will' fills the cognitive senses and lead us up to a decision, however dastardly it may be. It would be lesser an evil to skip morality, commit a wrong, if only one has/had a 'want'. But when you do something you did not even 'want' to do - you couldn't have caused a bigger ignominy and disrespect to the 'self'. If there is a bigger sin than sin, it is sinning without wanting to.
I whispered apologies to me a hundred times. But the writer wouldn't allow for unjustifiable mistakes. Not from me.
The courtroom of conscience has room enough for reason, excuses, even tomfoolery. It has many windows too for one to take flight and escape. But there are no doors from which one could walk out with dignity, unless one has justified oneself. Yet, how to justify something I did not want to do? My standards are engraved in stone, the bars are always high. I could find no justification. And so I struggled. I couldn't and wouldn't flee from the windows. And I could not walk out the doors too.
And so here I stand, staring at the floor in obeisance. Hoping.
...nice post. But if would forgive my impertinence - i am counting on your goodwill for that - you may want to get your bearing right where it comes to words.
ReplyDeleteThe thing is words are not just that but much more (something you can't but know). Sometimes they are concepts, sometimes they are metaphors... etc. etc. So, for instance, "want/desire" besides being a word is also a concept. So is "will". And it can happen that a man may not want something, and yet he may will it. And that's just the tip of it. Some may argue that they are almost mutually exclusive concepts. But, if one is to keep that in mind, it changes the entire import of your post. It becomes a little confusing. Something you may want to look into perhaps. :)
True. I am but a peasant in the sophisticated studio of philosophy(?). I should go deeper, understand the 'concepts' first and perhaps then only tap my fingers on the keyboard. It will be even more fascinating then.
ReplyDeleteI will keep this in mind. Thanks!
...it is willing alone that justifies a thing. In fact, it doesn't even need a justification. It is its own justification. Whereas, if you look carefully, you would find that no amount of wanting a thing saves you from being assailed by your conscience.
ReplyDeleteThe distinction is important, and one that Shakespeare maintains. In Julius Caesar (Act 2), for instance, Persuaded by Calpurnia (his wife) to not to go to the Senate where he will be assassinated eventually, Caesar does not say by way of giving a reason that he doesn't "want" to go - no, that would be too capricious of him. No. Instead, he says:
The cause is in my will: I will not come;
That is enough to satisfy the senate.
...so you see now. :)
In fact, let me quote the entire sequence. It will make my meaning clearer.
ReplyDeleteDECIUS BRUTUS
Caesar, all hail! good morrow, worthy Caesar:
I come to fetch you to the senate-house.
CAESAR
And you are come in very happy time,
To bear my greeting to the senators
And tell them that I will not come to-day:
Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser:
I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius.
CALPURNIA
Say he is sick.
CAESAR
Shall Caesar send a lie?
Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far,
To be afraid to tell graybeards the truth?
Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come.
DECIUS BRUTUS
Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause,
Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so.
CAESAR
The cause is in my will: I will not come;
That is enough to satisfy the senate.
As usual, I learn.
ReplyDelete"Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser:
I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius."
and
"The cause is in my will: I will not come;"
Splendid. Thanks for pointing it out (a) and reproducing the above (b).
Relevant:
ReplyDeleteThe struggle, the angst and the rare courage to be honest expressed more than anything by your words Neha, your precious words. They don't lie. And wow :
"I have realised what writing is to me. It's worship, it's prayer, it's the answer. It's the one most honest act I ever do."
An original quote :)
Your struggle is reflected in your struggle to find the words to describe your angst. And your inner honest brutal writer pours it across in your words.
Irrevelant:
Unnecessary analysis of jargon and associated philosophical bullshit. You are the spark. Don't let anything persuade you otherwise. These words are you.. cherish them. The writer in you seeks only the highest ideal and does not and will not let you justify and seek the ignominy of being anything less than who you are. Writing is your calling. Not interpreting. Write, love your words and don't you dare besmirch the best in you. You write. The rest is irrevelant.
Your tribe has come; heed our call.
@ jaded
ReplyDeleteI am taking the liberty of responding to you, even though you weren't directly talking to me. I can only hope that you will take it in the same spirit in which it is written. :)
There is much truth in what you have said regarding honesty, et al. And yet, one is perhaps as likely to err on the side of truth as of falsehood. And so have you, i am afraid - by making a point out of something which was but too apparent to all – an “understood” thing. Now i do not know why you should do that, if perhaps you thought it was not as apparent to others. But you have done me an injustice there, nay, even an injury, as if i was somehow taking her mind off the essential, by speaking of lesser, “irrelevant” things. Moreover, in your admirable enthusiasm for "the highest ideal" and, should i say, a just sense of pride in your tribe, you have laid it on even thicker. You have made it into an end-all, when it is but the starting point, the sine qua non, of any artistic endeavor – i am still speaking of honesty – something you expect as a matter of course from any artist worth his or her salt. But his or her work does not stop with it – there are also other worlds beyond the stars, so to say. And one can only ignore them - well, at one's own loss. :)