Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Eternal hunger

This morning I woke up feeling a little despondent, dregs from the previous night's depression. An idle wasted day was followed by a night of dark brooding rains. I had gone to bed with anguish and anxiety as bed partners. Not the most pleasant menage-a-trois. The night's sleep had washed away most of the darkness and dawn was sucking away the last drops of depresion along with the dew drops.

However, I still felt small and helpless. I saw the morning was glorious, but I could not share the glory. As I sat down head bent over some old tome, she came to me. Or rather, her பொட்டு (bindi) came to me. Apparently, I had not gained enough intimacy to talk to her directly yet. So I talked to the dot.

Dot (spreading a warm glow across my face): Why are you unhappy my child?

Me: What else can I be? For am I not a failure? Am I not a lost cause?

Dot (amused):  Failure? Ah yes, that is something you people talk of. Why do you think so?

Me (with a tragically grand sweeping gesture) : Look around. Listen to the sound of the measly crow, the buzz of the annoying mosquito. Look at the muddy slush that is drinking up the sun, the filthy flea that sits on even filthier shit. Look at the lowliest creatures that she has made. Even they produce music, even they shine in beauty; music and beauty that I dare not even aspire to. Here I am, a man with dreams of being a poet and I barely even write.

Dot (laughing): Is that all? Silly fool. You think there are lowly creatures and lordly creatures. You think there is music, beauty in some and not in some others.

Me (puzzled): Isn't that how it is? There is good and there is bad and I must aspire and work hard to reach the good.

Dot: Tell me, what does fire eat?

Me: What?

Dot (repeating patiently): What does fire eat?

Me: I don't know...wood, fuel, ghee, paper...

Dot: And...what else burns in fire?

Me: Well, almost everything.

Dot: Everything. The fire is her mouth, one of her mouths. And it eats everything. The purpose of everything is to offer everything in sacrifice. If her mouth does not differentiate between the mosquitoes' buzz and the koel's call, the jasmine's perfume and the stench of dung why do you? She is ravenous. She cannot wait for food to be cooked, to be perfect in aroma, in taste and texture. She devours them all - cooked and uncooked, ripe and raw. Just feed her for she is eternally hungry. Do not keep her waiting.

Me: Silence.

And so...this was written.