Smaller than Life
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Why a blog? Simple. Cacoethes Scribendi -- the urge to write! My literary pretensions and caprices bring me here. Like any writer I write to be read. All my posts, though fettered to my small world and trivially myopic, will live and yearn that somebody connects to them someday. Cognitive frenzies, sardonic musings, aimless banters, incoherent ramblings and trivial indulgences; this is simply an episodic narrative of my trivial world -- in a grain of sand… Smaller than Life.
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Name: Dileepan Lampoon me at: panvista@gmail.comOn the Stands Anachronistic Flashes Short Story A Debut of Sorts The Earthquake A Month of Bhawan's Night In Print! A Small, Anonymous Room Accepting the Master's change By the Countryside In the Hour of Need Sheaves on the Shelf January 2011 December 2009 March 2007 August 2006 February 2006 November 2005 October 2005 August 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 October 2003 Buy my Book |
Friday, August 19, 2005
Optical Illusions "It has been so long, kanna, that I am beginning to forget what you used to look like," my mother tells me when I call her up these days, "Why don't you email me some of your more recent photographs?" And she, like all of us, lives looking for warmth in frozen images from the past. Drawing comfort in reinforcing old impressions, created long ago. When reality has much blotted the images of the photographs: roads are narrower; buildings, higher; the air, blacker; and people, much different. But today needs to freeze into pictures, like yesterday did. And we click photographs. One by the huge auditorium, in front of the waterfalls, with exotic species of birds, and one with bright colours of Fall decadence, one with him, and another with her. "Can you click a picture of us, please? Thank you." For, all the fall hues dotting the kaleidoscope, captured into baroque frames, will wait and hope that the next fall is much alike. And we pose, hiding the wrinkles, the receding hairline, careful enough to smile the right amount, stopping the inevitable for a moment -- it should look good in posterity. Though people will have changed. Trees will have been cut. He will no longer smile at you that compassionate smile. She will have run out of love for you. And times will have changed. But it does not matter. What we need is an anti-reality check, when reality will stare at us like the afternoon sun, and we will be too blinded to peer anymore. So we stare at the photographs, once again. The colours in the parchment will not fade like before, wearied by our stares, for they are immaculately stored into email attachments. And the past is rosier, digitally enhanced.
So, in response, I assure my mother, "Okay Ma. I will send you some photographs I clicked during X's visit." And I take photographs every now and then. One by the lake, and one by the trees. And remember to pose well. Lest the smile not belie something else. Comments via Blogger: I have been enjoying this particular post of yours for quite some months now! This piece of yours is extremely wonderful!
dileee,
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