Thursday, July 02, 2009

two books and thousand thoughts

These days I am trying to revive my interest for reading. A couple of years back, I had the patience of completing a moderately thick novel/book in one sitting. However, now it seems that eras have passed since then. I don't even bother to read the newspaper, these days. So, to sudharofai myself, I went to Library on Monday and got five books issued and the good thing is that I have started the third one, today.

There is a sher..
"jab bheed main ho tanhapan, khamosh kitabein behlati hain mera mann.."

.. and this tanhapan usually does not leave me, even if I am sitting in the class. So, to get rid of it, today I decided to take a book there with me. The book was an assimilation of stories and poems written by Kahlil Gibran. Okay, the first story was an ode to his lady love Selma... how he met him, fell in love with him, she got married to a bad man and then finally died, while Gibran became a devastated and destitute lover, who for the rest of his life, created verbose pieces of writing with excessive use of decorative adjectives.

Also, the story above may sound like just any other romantic novel... but it was a real "hi-level" romance. So high that despite being a die-hard romantic, I lost touch with the character. The two explained their love as the feeling that exists between a brother and a sister and a man and his wife and a mother and his son. Such highest order of purity mixed with divinity inducing adjectives, dragged me to a different world, where, I was amused by the amount of time the two characters of the story used to spend before expressing their emotions for each other. Now I understand, why the writer stressed so much on the conversation made by eyes. After all, creating such complicated dialogues is something that one cannot keep on doing 30 times a day, so they preferred looking into each other's eyes.

Had it been a one-sided divine romanticism going around me in the class, I would have still managed. But a lecture was also going on and hence, I had to use my other senses to keep a track of what he is talking about and where is he looking.

I was relishing a perfect paradox. One side: an intense feeling of love that compares itself with a devotee going mad for his Goddess and the other side: a professor, stressing again and again to improve the quality of the product and forget about the promotions. Materialism Vs. Complete Nonmaterialism. Philosophy Vs. Realism. wooff... it was exhaustive, but entertaining, more because, none of those worlds included me. They both were are at the two extreme ends and I believe in mixing them in proportions.

Anyways. The other novel, Paths of Glory by Jeffery Archer attracted me more for the love he showed than the adventure. The book talks about George Mallory, who supposedly climbed Mt. Everest in the year 1924, but died while descending back. There are no concrete proof of whether he reached to the top or not, but going into the details makes you feel that perhaps he did. The story was interesting. But again, verbose. I don't know, why people try to fill colours into our imaginations by over use of adjectives.

Initially, the book did not interest me. The description of Mallory's childhood was boring for me. Besides, the story was about two women, he loves in his life and till half the book, not even one woman entered. Later, when the woman entered, she was the only actual woman. The other was the mountain called Chomolungma, goddess of earth. So, that is how the writer created the mystery. For sometime, I felt cheated and hence decided not to read further, then becuase of my habit of reading the last page before leaving the book, I read the letter Mallory wrote to his wife, a day before his final ascent for the top, from a height of 27,400 feet above the sea level.

The letter was so emotional. How wonderful will be that person, who being on the verge of achieving a feat that no other human has ever achieved, amidst such adverse and extreme climatic conditions, can write such an emotional letter to his wife, acknowledging her presence, contributions and sacrifices in his life. Being a girl, I have high admiration for people, who have this ability to make others realise their importance and place in life. And honestly, very few people have this ability. Rest live with their loved ones, just superficially, with a strange ego of never thanking them for the value addition happening to their lives because of them. Unfortunate people!

The letter changed my perception for that character. I reopened the pages, where I had stopped and completed the novel properly. I know, I get senti for few things. But I think these emotions deserve this sentiness. After all, only these emotions differentiate few greatest ever men from the other great men. You must have noticed that most of the times, while trying to achieve one's passion, these so called great men sacrificed their family lives so easily. May be the society hails them, but someone go and ask the poor family members, what price they have paid for someone else's dreams and aspirations, of which they were never a part.