Okay, so you're learning French. Good. At least you can make some desperate attempts at being romantic. So, come on, say something mesmerizing, enchanting, with all the fragrance of love and romance, beauty and art, colors and elegance. Pour some sparkling wine and maybe we can talk poetry.
You sneer.
I say, Well, I won't do any of the things you just said. Pray why you shouldn't? You ask me. I reply, Because I don't think I can put romance in words; I can't make words smell like rose; I can't make you feel the Taj if I tell you about it. No. I can't make you feel love if I say what's love. Possibly, I won't get it myself if I say what's love. Words are so inadequate when it comes to make people feel something. I won't even try.
Haa! Just because you can't do it doesn't mean no one can. Who do you think you are, Wordsworth? You jibe again. And I say, No I don't. I know exactly who I am. And what I can do. And what I can understand. And what I can feel. And I don't think you do most things differently either. If you feel something, or have felt it, only then can relate to it. And only then words make you feel. The feeling comes first, not the words.
If you haven't felt the night, all I can tell you is that night is when the Sun goes down. Anything and everything I say beyond that won't make any sense to you. It will be fiction. No. I am wrong. Even fiction can be felt. Often we can relate to it. So it won't be fiction. It will be something which I can't tell you. See, words. It's too hard to express everything. So I won't try. Not in any language. Not English, not French. I will only tell you what I see and what I feel, and if you really want to understand, I'll ask you to feel it yourself. Feel the night. Alone.
So what's new? You've come back to romance. Come on, don't you know you are pathetic at it? Get back to what you do best. Keep silent. I know what night is. I know what a moonlit night is. I know what it is after dusk and before dawn. I have seen it all, I have read about it all. Close the chapter, You tell me.
And I pause. Then I start again. I ask you, have you gone on a cycle, 2 am in the morning, on a highway that has no lights, and the only light which you can use to focus on the road is that of the truck and the car behind you? Have you felt the gust of wind when a ten-wheeler wheezes past you? You didn't, right? You're silent. And I say, Have you ever felt so helpless without the light of the truck behind you, without which you can't move a step forward, and when it passes you by, a thought sends a chill down your spine; the thought of that same truck that could have passed over you, and not by you.
You haven't. You have seen the night in all its beauty and grace. The night with all its glitter and glare. The night with the money and the rags. But have you seen the night with all the freedom and all the fear? The same city, with its wide roads and smooth pavements, trees and benches, parks and fountains, can be so different. I can feel the lack of noise and the lack of vibrancy. I love it and hate it at the same time.
I take my cycle and I explore the city. Yes, I explore it. It's a different city. There are no people. I feel so great. I feel so free. I feel so uninterrupted. There are no people. I feel so alone. I feel so unprotected. I feel so scared. I can do whatever I like and no one will stop me. I can be hit by a car and no one will notice me.
But then, that's what I like about the night. It has its charm. I am ready to pay for it. Pay for the loneliness. Pay for the feeling of being alone, no one watching me, no one protecting me, no one caring about me. Because I can have it all for myself. I am so greedy. I don't want to share it with anyone else. It's all mine.
When there's light, there's everyone else. I am just one in the crowd. In the night, I am still the one, but there's no crowd. And you say, are you nuts? In the city you have pubs and bars and hotels and markets and malls and cinemas and all the places. They are packed with people at night. And I say, It's not night for me then. For me, night is being alone. For me, night is exclusive. It's just me and her.
She can get me killed. But I don't mind.
You sneer.
I say, Well, I won't do any of the things you just said. Pray why you shouldn't? You ask me. I reply, Because I don't think I can put romance in words; I can't make words smell like rose; I can't make you feel the Taj if I tell you about it. No. I can't make you feel love if I say what's love. Possibly, I won't get it myself if I say what's love. Words are so inadequate when it comes to make people feel something. I won't even try.
Haa! Just because you can't do it doesn't mean no one can. Who do you think you are, Wordsworth? You jibe again. And I say, No I don't. I know exactly who I am. And what I can do. And what I can understand. And what I can feel. And I don't think you do most things differently either. If you feel something, or have felt it, only then can relate to it. And only then words make you feel. The feeling comes first, not the words.
If you haven't felt the night, all I can tell you is that night is when the Sun goes down. Anything and everything I say beyond that won't make any sense to you. It will be fiction. No. I am wrong. Even fiction can be felt. Often we can relate to it. So it won't be fiction. It will be something which I can't tell you. See, words. It's too hard to express everything. So I won't try. Not in any language. Not English, not French. I will only tell you what I see and what I feel, and if you really want to understand, I'll ask you to feel it yourself. Feel the night. Alone.
So what's new? You've come back to romance. Come on, don't you know you are pathetic at it? Get back to what you do best. Keep silent. I know what night is. I know what a moonlit night is. I know what it is after dusk and before dawn. I have seen it all, I have read about it all. Close the chapter, You tell me.
And I pause. Then I start again. I ask you, have you gone on a cycle, 2 am in the morning, on a highway that has no lights, and the only light which you can use to focus on the road is that of the truck and the car behind you? Have you felt the gust of wind when a ten-wheeler wheezes past you? You didn't, right? You're silent. And I say, Have you ever felt so helpless without the light of the truck behind you, without which you can't move a step forward, and when it passes you by, a thought sends a chill down your spine; the thought of that same truck that could have passed over you, and not by you.
You haven't. You have seen the night in all its beauty and grace. The night with all its glitter and glare. The night with the money and the rags. But have you seen the night with all the freedom and all the fear? The same city, with its wide roads and smooth pavements, trees and benches, parks and fountains, can be so different. I can feel the lack of noise and the lack of vibrancy. I love it and hate it at the same time.
I take my cycle and I explore the city. Yes, I explore it. It's a different city. There are no people. I feel so great. I feel so free. I feel so uninterrupted. There are no people. I feel so alone. I feel so unprotected. I feel so scared. I can do whatever I like and no one will stop me. I can be hit by a car and no one will notice me.
But then, that's what I like about the night. It has its charm. I am ready to pay for it. Pay for the loneliness. Pay for the feeling of being alone, no one watching me, no one protecting me, no one caring about me. Because I can have it all for myself. I am so greedy. I don't want to share it with anyone else. It's all mine.
When there's light, there's everyone else. I am just one in the crowd. In the night, I am still the one, but there's no crowd. And you say, are you nuts? In the city you have pubs and bars and hotels and markets and malls and cinemas and all the places. They are packed with people at night. And I say, It's not night for me then. For me, night is being alone. For me, night is exclusive. It's just me and her.
She can get me killed. But I don't mind.
3 comments:
awesome ! wud say simply that silence has its strenght !!!....sometimes words are less effective in bridging a hiatus of thought/frequency !!..
wud say in love ..there are things less spoken about , need an underlying emotion to feel the oder person !. there are words better left "unsaid"....
Love never demands one to be jus for another person or human soul ...wud say . "love some one ..who loves u ..... NEVER give your heart ...to someone whom u love "...
.....u jus need a perfect feelings , perhaps a perfect idyllic serene place and time to click right straight way thru the oder soul !!!..
wish u best of luck .. for such a soul !.
Hmmm...I've a question and a request.
When will you stop assuming the mind of your reader? I know we all do this, but less said the better. Sometimes, it gets irritating in having to be forced into some slot you assume of, of the reader.
Request: (after assuming you are not too pissed)
Please do comment ON my BLOG!!! I mean, ON, ON, ON my blog...not on orkut please!! I could do with some honest criticism/comment too....(like what I'm doing right now!) **inward devilish chuckling going on**
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