Friday, January 07, 2011

Borrowed Unreality

I simply enjoyed yesterday working on that piece. What started as fun turned mysterious in between, I rubbed my hands in glee while I gave that twist and in the end I had to stop because I realised it was becoming without my knowledge Dostoyevskian. Then I had this eerie feeling and hazy pictures of a similar scene from some unremembered movie. I thought may be its an unconscious rip off, I couldn't tell for sure. May be Nirmal Pandey's Is Raat Ki Subah Nahin or Raj Babbar's Andha Yudh or Tom Cruise's Collateral or John Travolta's TheTaking of Pelham 123 or some novel, though I don't read crime/thrillers, had influenced it. I couldn't tell.
I have many times regretted that the list of must-read books and must-watch movies keep growing and have blamed myself for that, for not being diligent enough. With so little reading and so little movie watching I am forever confused and dazed about the source of my thoughts, opinions, ideas, viewpoints. I am always asking where did it come from, how did I come to that conclusion? and so on. Some great guy said that we have a short life, so must learn from others' experiences. And disregarding Hesse's words that Wisdom is not communicable we form our Weltanschauung based on others' glorified and glorious words, exaggerated or understated experiences. At one level it feels borrowed. And you weave a web based on that borrowed material never stopping to verify, never trying to budge from the comforts of your cozy arm chair. How bizarre! There is no easy way out, because the web keeps getting denser. May be the only options would be:  asylum or suicide!  

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