I began this weekend with tears and nothing much to look forward to. I was in mourning, as I like to quote the grief, the tragedy I am going through. And then I thought of all the ways I could let go. I thought of Gandhiji's talisman in CBSE books and all the stuff that had made me so strong, some time back.
Then I remembered my notes from "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and I did not feel ashamed of what i had done. I could justify to myself, my crooked actions, my unwanted desires.
For instance :
"When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."
I have decieved myself and now I am decieving others into believing that I had something for her, when in fact, I did not have the guts to say it to her. Is it me, an ignobly timid person, or is it me, the honorable asshole. No idea.
Another gem:
"Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. That is all."
After making that cardinal mistake, I am trying to make things better. How may you ask? But upsetting her rhythm and upsetting mine as well, and getting satisfied in thinking of my actions are affecting her. Ahh. How could I be this unimaginable fool. Is this what feelings do to a normal person. How utterly improper and shameful. I expected better from a person of my calibre.
Another one:
"The people who love only once in their lives are really the shallow people. What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect--simply a confession of failure."
Amazing words. Amazing because they make me put my life in context and suddenly I can and will do wonderfully... I am alredy back. I am all alive with blood gushing in my veins. I am sorry for being an ass for quite some time. But I am back.
"You will always be loved, and you will always be in love with love. A grande passion is the privilege of people who have nothing to do."
God... Now I am a bit red in my ears.
And my chuckle and laughter is back. It rings. And I am back to work. Lots of work.
And then the final nail in the coffin....
"Life is not governed by will or intention. Life is a question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play-- I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend."
My notes are wonderful. They are purposeful and they serve their purpose.
Note: Not any more....
Then I remembered my notes from "The Picture of Dorian Gray" and I did not feel ashamed of what i had done. I could justify to myself, my crooked actions, my unwanted desires.
For instance :
"When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."
I have decieved myself and now I am decieving others into believing that I had something for her, when in fact, I did not have the guts to say it to her. Is it me, an ignobly timid person, or is it me, the honorable asshole. No idea.
Another gem:
"Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. That is all."
After making that cardinal mistake, I am trying to make things better. How may you ask? But upsetting her rhythm and upsetting mine as well, and getting satisfied in thinking of my actions are affecting her. Ahh. How could I be this unimaginable fool. Is this what feelings do to a normal person. How utterly improper and shameful. I expected better from a person of my calibre.
Another one:
"The people who love only once in their lives are really the shallow people. What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect--simply a confession of failure."
Amazing words. Amazing because they make me put my life in context and suddenly I can and will do wonderfully... I am alredy back. I am all alive with blood gushing in my veins. I am sorry for being an ass for quite some time. But I am back.
"You will always be loved, and you will always be in love with love. A grande passion is the privilege of people who have nothing to do."
God... Now I am a bit red in my ears.
And my chuckle and laughter is back. It rings. And I am back to work. Lots of work.
And then the final nail in the coffin....
"Life is not governed by will or intention. Life is a question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. You may fancy yourself safe and think yourself strong. But a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play-- I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend."
My notes are wonderful. They are purposeful and they serve their purpose.
Note: Not any more....
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