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Planes
dialogues
- SUNIL KUMAR K.V.
What you meant by saying that the rain began to fall slanted
while the beads from your broken chain scattered along the
floor?
You need explanation? Or
you're arguing?
if you're gonna prove it's just my illusion, then I'll
declare even this rain is an illusion!
Are you here as my friend to rule out
my discoveries?
My! I was mentioning
about your magic mirror complex. But it's a pity we can't go on without so much
question marks and exclamation symbols!
Ok, If you're onto change the topic, then I'll have to
switch off this light.
O, my Snow
White!
You'll never change from a performer to a
spectator!
I feel you'd better call
me Desdemona!
Please stop. If reactions
tend to fall at right-angle like this, friendship would be at risk.
To
talk a little obtuse - I mean mathematics - it's not necessary to be a
mathematics teacher.
Sorry, if I
become too self-centered.
Now I remember one short story by Mukundan Unni,
named "Ee arddharaathriyil veena vaayickunnathaaraanu?"
You mean Raman Unni?
No, he can't do such a title.
More to it, he can't
call it a story where it's nothing but some dialogues.
Yes, dialogues alone can't form a story. Story is a plane.
There falls the shadow of dialogues. And dialogues, they are the lines which do
intersect each other or not. Where do the shadows falls depend on the angle of
view.
Stop your reductionism.
Do
you have any justification to save your observations from being labelled as
stupidity?
I'll switch off this...
Hold it, I was not talking to you. It's too late. Got to
go.
You're going nowhere.
Any
guarantee you'll not knock on my door before half an hour?
I've no say while you behave like elders
sometimes.
The question you've just
asked is now looking at you.
-who's more unwilling to become the
spectator?
-Sorry, if right-angled again.
No, in a way, it's the freedom of friends.
After all,
spectator or performer, both are at the same place once they lose the
upperhand.
I feel your inferiority
complex will never leave you.
Agreed. But
do you know that inferiority complexes mould the most sincere sincere
personalities?
Make statements out of
your such squint-eyed ideas so that I could easily ignore 'em.
But question
marks tempt me to think of.
Ah! He's so
correct who said women prefers imagining or recalling more to thinking!
But
an article in SCIENCE stated that, comparing to men, thinking doesn't overrule
physical activity in women.
In a
sense, what's the practical difference between thought and
imagination?
In your language, THOUGHT is using unknown variables while
IMAGINATION is using known variables to work out.
Hence thoughts transform
into ideas and imaginations into illusions.
You stole my mathematics so brilliantly!
At times our
lines of thought meet together. Perhaps that's why two cold-blooded living
beings like us succeed in uniting.
Or is it because both of us have the
ability to laugh at our thoughts innocently?
My dear child, you're still struggling to justify
yourself?
You know, there's only one truth about living beings, that's
male and female. It's to hide this 'shame' that Plato defined his PLATONIC
LOVE.
Even when you try to rule it out, SEX proudly declares its presence
just because of the very reason.
Ha! How
small we become while telling truth! Just imagine; How could we face each other
if someone succeed in recording the trajectory of our
thoughts!
You become too practical.
Come back.
Can't you speak of rivers and stars or dreams or
something?
What you think of
river?
That's where Herman's Siddhartha found the answer for practical
life.
That's where he settled after a lifelong journey.
Sometimes I
think, what could have happened to that example, if he had a vision of draught
at least for a fraction of a second!
In a sense, examples are just
helping hands. Letting us to get onto an alternate ideology which looks safer
than the one which has already started sinking.
Is it that you failed to find out the satire hidden by
Hesse? Or?
Please, when I gave you the subject, I sincerely wished you'd
speak of love.
Philosophy, as I reckon it, is a by-product of
pessimism.
Love:-
I'm not speaking
about it just because I'm afraid it too would become hollow. Anything discussed
becomes hollow and sticks to their inner skins. - Like the pressure inside a
balloon.
The only one thing which holds me from falling into pessimism is
the multi-faced love in me.
Then who made you feel that love is there in
rivers and stars?
Aren't those things actually laughing at you, peeling off
the skin of your love concepts?
Why
do you impose your cockeyed visions on others?
Are you in line with that
computer poet, who said heart is not the organ for love?
His declaration,
that, 'love is the name of the unrest behind the third button of my coat' is
still undigested in my stomach - leave the brain.
Don't abuse the reticence in poetry. Writers mix a bit
silence in their declarations so that some truth should be spared even after the
final assessment. Otherwise, what's the part of reader in
literature?
I'm not interfering with
your judiciary. But don't forget that one who doesn't accept established
symbols, will find his place in anti-society.
Reactions falling at 180 degree indicates old age. Kindly
change topic.
Then, my dear
mathematician, tell me what is the distance from dream to the straight line
drawn from fantasy to reality?
Sorry, if
the question is aimed at a mathematician.
He could accept such a question
only if these three are taken as points. In fact, these are no points but
different planes. He can't draw, but can only expect such a line before tracing
the ordinates of those planes.
If I
say you're slippin' away?
Pardon me. My
answer disappointed me too. Because I was also visualizing such a bridge using
arbitraries.
Still you've to admit
one exists. Otherwise you won't be able to understand John. Poor soul, he's
still striving to come out of that bridge. I must find it to rescue
him.
Perhaps, a good psycho-therapist
could do it.
Don't think
so.
Mental disorders have only one face in a psychiatrist's eye. They get
used to approach things too materialistically.
I won't say he should be sent back to that hell.
I'm
desperate because I find no ways to communicate with him.
It worries me that,
even after returning to a normal life, these poor souls still don't completely
lose their newly gained communication codes.
Don't think I'll let your worry to become an excuse for
your cigarette. Throw it away before I'll throw you out.
Actually, why do you
smoke this much?
One of the characters
says in Anand's novel, that he restarted smoking to enjoy in resisting the
temptation to quit smoking!
Whatever be the justifications, smokers find
smoking sometimes becomes a key to some activities in them. To say correctly, an
access code for an unplanned diversion of thought or
activity.
An autocrat who appoints
his dear men in key posts. Eh?
Don't let your jargons make me laugh.
But,
to use every lighted cigarette to its end has no clearer explanation than the
theory of maximum utilization, I hope.
The real reason why women don't tolerate smoking is just that
our morale doesn't allow them to do it. They were not so annoyed in the days
when the world was recognized as a man's world.
Why you hesitate to replace 'recognized' by
'believed'?
Try to find out the answer
yourself before leaving question marks. Still living in a patriarchal society,
how you could daydream about transforming it?
Anti-society has no existence
inside society. Try to demolish it and start from zero if you
could.
Goal!!! But alas, no goalie in
the post. You become a mere street preacher while speaking like this. I'm
correcting Gibran who said one starts speaking when one could no longer
compromise with thoughts.
Telling more accurately, When we start speaking our
thoughts are being slain.
It's not for
talking that I come to you. In fact, I come back to you every time in search of
my broken memories.
Eh?
You always
break my memories and thoughts in middle. I get them back when I'm here again in
this room.
Again, didn't get
it.
Memories are collected and recorded
not only in the specific address locations in memory cells. But I strongly
believe they are also collected in the external three-dimensional
spaces.
God!, you mean, your memories
are hidden in this bed and that corridor and the backdoor as witness for
Alex?
Don't worry, even if communication
becomes effective, one could not easily distinguish it. The logic 'Something
smells in the air' is maximum.
Ok,
agreed. That means, as long as I'll keep ripping your memories, you'll continue
searching for me. - But, I can't name it Love!
Why you insist on naming your feelings and keeping in
inventory register? It's our limitation that we've to classify the realizations
according to sample.
If it is named Love because of any known symptom, then
naturally it's supposed to obey all the laws of Love.
I had a lover who kept on weeping after the love which he
himself had ruined...
Ha!, it's the
victory of practicality, to successfully summarise the first love-isn't it?-in a
single sentence.
But memory of love, it could be stinking for woman, but man
prefers to nurture it in the bottom of his mind.
May be because of the
difference in the angle of view. Woman considers Love as a divine and sacred
contract. But for man, it's a part of his own existence.
Why do you design common laws and hang on to them?
If
I go on saying, some young men whose hair started graying at the back of their
head consider their idiocies as psychological theories...?
Sometimes I feel, Love could just be an illusion of ours.
That it's not a natural one.
Saying materialistically, it is the price we
pay for something we received or for something we would like to buy. - Like in
barter system.
At a point where we decide we have nothing to buy, or when we
feel we were mistreated, it disappears itself.
What remains is a mere
feeling. - which we call ego.
Is this
what you called your multi-faced love? This is faceless. You know only to speak
of Love. You don't know how to do it.
How
could I argue when you declare it with such confidence?
But, as it's an
attack on my sincerity, I feel ashamed. That's why I refused to speak on Love
thinking it too might become hollow.
Get lost with your philosophy. In a way, I'm grateful to
you. You're to me like the parrot in SHUKASAPTATI.
Now I started loving Alex
more than ever. Lover and husband change places in my dreams. Ha!
Thanks - if
it makes any sense.
As a matter of fact,
one of my major problems is solved. This strangeness troubled me a lot that our
happiest moment inevitably demands someone's private tragedy behind
it.
Thankfully, I see you walking back.
God! What I just said? Or was it you? Forgive me, if I
can't go on. We've broken the rhythm of this night.
Be cool, It doesn't matter who said it. Fact is, it's been
said.
Try to face things without the guilty conscience of the First person or
the anxiety of the Second person.
In the plane of Story, There are only
shadows of the lines called Dialogues. Characters are unreal to an extent. Just
as the Cause for words. Try the fourth dimension.-You won't be able to
distiguish the characters. They change at every moment. Till they cease to
live.
Your thoughts make me remember
my ex-lover. Once he wrote to me - with the support of N.S.Madhavan, that he's
not leaving me alone because he consider time as a lake.
Madhavan's declaration influenced me also. If events are
true, then their vanishing is an artistical deceit.- Provided, truth is eternal.
Only a stupid realist could believe that a great artist who created the whole
world could do such an artistical treachery.
Come on, Who are there alongshore? - I mean your
lake.
All of them, all those things, all
the time are present there. Selective viewing is only important. Plus, your
state of mind.
Say, if I tell you that, on the wedding night of the girl
I loved, I was watching NALACHARITHAM NAALAAM DIVASAM Kathakali with her in the
town hall which took place before two years, tell me, does that lake make you
laugh?
Of course.-I count on
fantasies, not memories. That's what enlivened me through my life. A married
woman must need fantasy. Otherwise, how one could love a big belly, bad odour
and dirty evenings?
Let it be, do you also have a girl in your
fantasies?
Surely. But she's not like
you. She walks with the wind. Pride dwells in her bluish eyes.
"...there she
goes,
with a wind in her hair
and a smile on her face...
...
but
she'll never be mine"
(Chris rea - there
she goes - album: God's great banana skin)
Damn it. Your inferiority complex won't leave you even in
your dreams?
It does make difference if I
realise it. Where's inferiority complex if there's no attempt for comparison?
Think otherwise. The one who's aware of his inferiority is far more acceptable
than the one who's not aware of it.
But, can you deny this 'virtue' was responsible for the
failure of your first love?
How easily
you announced it! I still struggle to summarise my first love in a statement. It
was perhaps the ghost of Othello, once died in my mind...
Justifications are useless for failed loves. Because,
justifications are always intended for the third person.
As for Love, it
never opens its doors to a third person.
Anyhow, I don't know. But it altered my personality
completely. Lately, it was clear that I became very flexible. That I could
mingle with anyone.
Negatively speaking, a state of mind having no intimacy
with anyone.
I made a new discovery - loss of first love helps one become
more practical. So I left the decision of my marriage to my parents. - Because,
they were much more concerned about choice. - which I was not.
This is,
to me, the merit of having no intimacy. Intimate to a particular person means
narrowmindedness. - being unable to mingle with others.
How can you speak so immaterial and yet to be in bed with
a married woman?
Or, is it that you are a total fraudster? - from top to
bottom!
The logic of reciting Gita in the
bedroom of someone else's wife is confusing me. It may rather underline your
doubts. But, believe me, you'll have no more doubts about life, if you would
match Krishna's teenage with Gita.
How I tried to insult you and insulted myself!
Pardon
me. May be it's my guilty conscience, that is disgracing me this
much.
Sin is always relative. It's our
society which makes the difference that illicit relation becomes taboo for human
whereas for animals it's not.
Even though the society is our product, its
laws grow taller and make us its slaves.
Alex also has the same say. But do you think he could
digest you?
No, it's not his fault. Logic
makes a man stronger, but after all he's a society animal. He has to fit himself
in its framework for the safety of a bad tomorrow where there's a chance he
might become a parasite. He's bound to obey its laws.
You approach everything in barter system. At the same
time you adopt the logic of 'ma phaleshu'. - as far as you accept society, what
type of punishment you expect from it?
Society uses its judiciary not to refine its prey, but as a
lesson for the spectator. Then the most justified - I mean the most possible -
punishment is exile. All those relations you had built through your life topple
down and...
Hold it. you said 'Prey'.
Is it your pride? or rejection?
Truly
speaking, punishment is not for crime, it's for being caught red-handed.
Even
when I insist I know everything, I suspect one thing. -Beneath that ultimate
power which never discriminates between good and evil, is there an unsatisfied
god who keeps account of our sins. I often see a finger pointing at me in
dreams.
How you will react, if you
want to pay for it- on judgement day?
There will be a smile in my eyes. Purely innocent one. How he
will face it?
[A wind came in through the open window and took him
away. Mary closed her eyes, chanted a hymn and fell asleep.
In the morning,
while going for the Sunday Mass, she found people gathered around the body of
Ramanathan who committed suicide jumping from the sixth floor. Turned back and
signed a cross on her forehead, she left for church.
She had nothing to
confess on that day.]
http://vaishnavam.com/planes.pdf
(english)
http://vaishnavam.com/prathalam.pdf
(malayalam)
http://vaishnavam.com/mystory.pdf
(both versions)