And a look out of the Window offers no beautiful gardens or landscape, no high-rise towers or buildings, no bazaar lanes, nothing in relation with the immediate world outside.
Just images.
It offers images, vivid and alive, of the past and the future, of childhood and of old age, of birth and of death. The pictures are personal, therefore engrossing. Each one stays there for about half a second, and then slowly fades away, being superimposed by the next one, before disappearing altogether.
The pictures offer insights into the years gone by, of childhood, like his first day in school and the hours he cried and cried, like how hard he held his mother by the waist when he first stood under a waterfall, and how his heart was filled with limitless pride when he bought his first novel with the earnings saved out of his monthly ‘pocket money’.
They also offer insights into the years to come, of the tension and turmoil of adult life, of a one-storey house with a narrow mud way leading to it, of one wife and two kids, and of death, cold and serene.
He can stare at the Window as long as he likes. Sometimes, so intriguing are the pictures, that he can’t move his eyes from it, even if he wishes to. Sometimes, they are too ugly or distasteful and the images change hastily, as if the Window was remote-controlled by his mind.
Interestingly, some keep coming back, from time to time, and he ponders over them for hours, like a ruminating cow does over a mouthful of grass.
They never cease. The Window is always open, always available, much to his pleasure and displeasure.
That’s all there is to the room. It’s a beautiful world. Four walls, a floor, a ceiling, the Window and him.
4 comments:
I liked the subject matter. Though more jusctice could have been done to it. Still, your style is something I admire and something I strive to emulate, often resulting in undesired consequences. Guess we must all stick to just our own.
P.S.: Please justify your posts. Left alignment looks very yucky!
Vaise even I felt so..I could have written more...maybe, I'll change it later sometime..
Don't change it. The original with all its mistakes is often a hundred times better than a refined dashy final!
Dear Piper,
I never had any intentions of forcing you to stop, in fact, yours is the only blog I can hope to read and not get insanely depressed. People are so self-obsessed on their blogs that reading their rants gets boring after a while.
You are different. Let me put it on record that its appreciated. That's why I give a comment on each one of your posts. But you see if somebody doesn't bring you back to the hard reality that you still have to grow and evolve into a seasoned writer... not because i want you to write books (good! they will be boring!) but your seasoned self will probably be good.
again, lemme put it on the record that i don't think that i am a better writer and that's why I just downplay everything you write. I just do it because its quite fun to see your face after a wild comment on your blog!
Now for this post, i guess you have caught the meaning of window... at least partially. The window exists between the self and the other. Memory, gestures, smiles all exist within this passage between the self and the other. You close the window and you will stop growing and creating new memories!
A window creates a sense of attachment, nostalgia and of course, a deep sense of privacy (in case you decide to close it for some time).
Think about it.
And remember, i will be reckless, mad, irritating but till the time I comment on your blog... it means there is something in it. start worrying when the comments stop coming!
Thank you ! I shall remember.
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