Its not that I have always suffered from the lack-of-Sad-enough-sadness disease. Some three years back I had gathered hurts which could make me feel sad enough to feel important, proud and happy. But once I realized that I am not the only one living in this glory, believing that I am the chosen hero of the great tragedy that has happened and can happen only to me, the whole aura faded out. I don’t know how and when it happened. Perhaps it happened over a period which involved a lot of Confiding and confessing. Now I regret being a Confidant and a confession box, partly because I could never be the one whom someone would confide about and majorly because my belief in the glorious pain and suffering disappeared after I heard the monotones of trivial hurts in which all my confiders were taking pride. The worst thing that happened was that misery became something to be laughed about and mocked at, this is what happens to every common place thing. The sympathizer in me became a cynic and the cynic became a story teller, telling stories out of confessions on which the listeners would sulk and I would laugh. Its may be because of loss of innocence or loss of conscience, or may be both but the point is, for me there is no real sadness except for the sadness that THERE IS NO REAL SADNESS.
I wonder if all story tellers are suffering from this disease. If you want to tell a story you can’t actually be sympathetic. It has to appear to you like a story and not as something worthy of mourning. You listen to them, you sympathize, and you enjoy the sadness and then celebrate it by writing it down using all your vocabulary and writing techniques. I am not really sure whether all the story tellers are cynic or not but I want to find it out.
So here I am a story teller, a cynic and not-so-sad person. But now the question is whether I am a lover. Of course this question comes immediately to the mind once you talk about confiding, parting words the burning moon, the beer can and the sadness which is three years old.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
16 comments:
I just had a dizzy-attack (not the same as 'Disney Attack'!) and I don't want to believe it was due to ur story.
In any case, at any rate, the questions u ask are so deeply, personally trivial that one runs the risk of bypassing them before u start asking.
How many writers (not the same as 'human beings') out there would admit that they are cynics and lovers at the same time. Sadness is more of a writer's tool than a state-of-mind...and love is more of a state of mind than a tool or any other sharp thing.
Combining the two, using beer cans and three-year-fermented guilt-soaked sadness is a classy idea...but a WRITER'S IDEA anyday.
So, at the end of it all...u are still a story-teller, a writer, a confession-box, a cynic and a sadness-manipulated being. And I ask, why can't u be all...if u are a lover!
Do you accept that you are a cynic and a lover at the same time, (and i know u r writer enough to be all that)?
From where do u get the idea about my guilt-soaked sadness..i never talked about any of my guilts???
Wh yis is WRITER'S IDEA in caps, i fail to get ur point there
ofcourse i m a lover..and as i said part3 is soon to follow
3-years is the time-manifestation (or measurement) of guilt. When u say 'now i regret', I read 'i have been guilt-ridden'
WRITER'S IDEA is in capitals to show the distinct ruthless flavor...the detachment (and a bit of manipulated, calculated cynicism that comes with it) of the whole scenario and mindset.
And about me being a lover and a cynic...well, didn't I 'auto-redundandize' (go figure!) this question?
(Am gonna patent that word!!)
Regretting anything however old is not so obviously a sign of feeling guilty..i guess thats wishful thinking on your part..
i get the ur point there with CAPS, but than does it mean as a reader u feel i m no more a lover??
I hate the word real...
Love seems unreal but the rejection is real...
I see no guilt here but the
regret is real...
I don't understand real sadness,
though the term pinches me equally
I dont see a writer here,but the
lover is for real.
@Abhijeet
I hope your comments are not influenced by comments above.
My comment has been influenced only by my hate for real sadness,
and more importantly by my understanding of the piece.
Are we getting serious abt all this..?
There are two difficulties about such good-but-sad writings.
One that, they are good. The ones of this kind surprise you by their sheer passion, as much as the effective expression. And then you feel like patting the author on his back. But you fear that might hurt.
The other, that they are sad. And they touch the sad-off-reality-too-real-writer-cynic-philosopher-lover
within you. Sometimes soothingly, often bitterly. And then you wonder whether to praise the article or lament having read it?
And yes, I can see the writer through the words, but I don't know as effective a writer who isn't a lover!
@varun bhaiya
nothing serious about it...
n btw...the first comment was influenced...
just dint want to accept it tht soon
Can somebody do a small favor..!? Please find for me, the differences in meanings (and undertones) of the following pairs:
1. Cynic and Pessimist.
2. Writer and Story-teller.
3. Lover and Sadness-glorifier.
Of course,, you don't need to go the Oxford/Webster way...I am talking about the 'fine-dividing line' here...and what are the implications of crossing the line.
@Abhijeet ("nothing serious about it...")
If not...why? That will hurt Sumit, I guess.
@varun bhaiya
I dont get what seriousness is being talked about,I'm serious about the "Notes from the underground".But not about the comments made on it,because it's too personal.So I dont feel my or perhaps nebody's seriousness matters.
As for the hurt I hope,
My accepting the writer as a real lover will account for it,if there is any.
I'm surprised that you don't know that when you confess your problems, the listener is either disinterested or happy you are in trouble. It's a naive life you've led if it's taken you this long to get here.
@Radha
It hasnt taken this long to figure this out, its just that i have written about it now.
Besides, it was not about the disinterest of the confidant but about the realizations which happen after you become someones confidant.
I was not, in fact, commenting on what you wrote, just giving my own 2 cents on the whole confessor-confidant issue.
"NOW, I regret..." suggests all this is a recent thought process.
" telling stories out of confessions....and I would laugh" directly pertains to what I wrote, though yes, your laugh stems from cynicism rather than sadistic joy.
While going through your story i felt that you have come a long way in terms of writing skills whether your cynicism has grown or reduced with time that i'm not sure about. The only thing i can say with surity is that thr's no reason for u to feel dissatisfied with ur sadness jus bcoz u know lot of other sad people and start feeling like a cynic instead bcoz that way u stand to lose ur cynicism (and ur writing skills perhaps!) if a bigger cynic comes around and says hello! to u
so dun hesitate in believing that u r the chosen hero of the great tragedy that has happened and can happen only to you bcoz each one of us have a right to play the protaganist in the tragedies of their lives besides losing some 14 bicycles in 4 yrs is no small tragedy by any standards....
Post a Comment