The holy trinity :)

I just finished reading It, I think for the second or third time in more than 12-13 years, I am not sure. But even as I was reading it, I could sense what was coming. Sometimes the actual event or incident that lurked in the next page, and nearly always the accompanied emotion. And even before I started the book, I knew I may cry a few time during the reading, and will surely sob at the end. I did. Not sobbing actually, just a very emotional revolt against what I knew to be inevitable, a sense of loss.

And so it is with Gone with the Wind too, equally dark, equally evocative of thoughts around survival, love, power, beauty, discipline, knowledge.

People would think I am crazy. At best, both books are considered huge bestsellers , highly influential in their genre and very respectable additions to any bookshelf. At worst, huge bestsellers. Period.

And yet this is how I feel. Raw involvement. Maybe its to do with the fact that I read them, along with The Fountainhead, at what’s considered the “formative” stage of my life and hence a lot of ideas and emotions expressed in these three books resonated strongly within my adolescent mindspace. I would also like to think, though I am sure it will be heavily argued, that all three are highly underrated in term of literary achievement, though the influence of all three over their respective genres cannot be questioned.

Anyway, suffice to say that in the list of thousands and thousands (and that’s how I say this, with a sweeping air, the words dying off to an awed silence…) of books that I have read, these three stand out for the impact they have on me.

Strangely, I no longer have the original copies which I read...have had to re-buy all three. Which is sad, because there's something about the well thumbed copy that seems so comfortable.

Betu

He grew up in front of me. Played "sabzi le lo". Teased me relentlessly, laughing at his own silliness and my over dramatized reactions. Sometimes I coached him, sometimes I reprimanded him, other times I clutched my head in frustration. I held him in my arms as we both wailed with grief, I made an internal promise that from this day I am responsible for him.

And today he's cocooned in pain. Limited by average intelligence, handicapped by emotional baggage, he's being driven further to insanity by the sheer cruelty of his own mother. We can just support him from afar, assure him of love, clarify his demons, ensure financial smoothness, push him to do better....but at the end of the day, he has to live there, live his own life, and manage to survive.

I wont spend time on how I feel. Terrible, is the best word.

But....what right do I have to expect anything from the DBs of the world, who havent even made a commitment, when I myself have not been able to live up to one of the strongest emotional commitments I have made in my life? I have enough common sense to realise the constraints, but even with those, Mummy, Dolly have been doing more than I am. I have always believed that one reaps as one sows. And its usually been true of my life. I may not have consciously given pain or changed, but I HAVE been negligent of people I truly love and am also sort of responsible for (not that I believe anyone is really responsible for anyone, but still...) and I guess I am just paying for that.

But can I ensure the reverse? Nope. Flaw in my "logic" as usual.

Punches - full blown

24th Jan, 15th March, 3rd May - well timed punches to my stomach, taking the wind out of me, leaving me gasping for breath, reaching out for support that didnt exist, asking myself how I ended up here...all the cliches of a lovelorn idiot.

The reaction detailed above aside, I am not really sure how I feel about all this. As usual, there's no clear overriding emotion. Some anger (but why?? Its not as if its a secret)...some sadness (but why? wasnt it expected?)...some frustration (but why? u r gonna get it anyway)...some feeling-foolish (but why? yr stupid ego is hurt?)...some fear (but why? u heard what he said, didnt u?)...some sense of loss....

Ya, this sense of loss. I think (though I am not sure) everything else I have been feeling is just an addendum to this core. If I hadnt been feeling this sense of loss, I would probably have been able to handle the rest. But this sense of change, of having lost something that I had allowed to become so integral to me - the companionship and communication, of witnessing a dramatic change in behavior - this is what has killed me.

But the worse I get within, the less I will allow it to show. The least I can maintain somehow is my dignity.

They lie...

This stupid TV serial preaches it. Smiling talk-show hosts say it convincingly. Self-help books revolve around it. Some others earn their badge of "fiction" by ending it with this message. Friends say it over cups of tea (or beer), mothers by loading you with food. Loved ones give you the message directly- sometimes explicitly, usually through convenient actions.

Its ok to be happy. YOU (the greatest being ever created) deserve to be happy. Be happy. Be happy. Be happy.

And then they pull the rug right from under your feet. You stumble, grinning wildly as you try to salvage your dignity. Dignity however, is the last thing that destiny has in store for you. You fall and usually get scraped. If you are unlucky, you get fractured. If you are really unlucky, you lose a limb. If you are really really unlucky, you are able to paint a smile and stand up straight again and walk on as if you are ok.

As is obvious, I like to use humor to view tragedy (weeellll....falling down badly IS a tragedy, isn't it?!). It gives me the illusion of being intelligent and in control.