Sunday, 24 May 2009

À la recherche du temps perdu

The passing moment that eludes and freezes, that strange passing moment. On the Ganges a little rickety boat that rocked and swayed, with the tide and with elusive human emotions. Somewhere six hearts met at a single vantage point, six strange hearts that would find it hard to seek common ground. But the eternal swirling water; what did it care for these transient fleeting differences?

The passing moment that swayed and swirled, little whirlpools of water. Half an hour of paid bliss, of paid danger and glamour. The river meanders like our moody minds; what does it care for how we think? These thoughts elude the muddy water, the boatman asks for a cigarette, the glowing embers sway and flicker out in the water. We have only that eternal passing moment.

Two boys strike a strange Titanic pose, we have not yet grown up. We will probably never, one of us might, who will it be? The boy in the light mauve teeshirt with nervous witticisms...the girl whose serene beauty is nothing like her cubist paintings...the boy with sparse white hair who can't swim...the boy with the camera...the girl with a hurt toenail dipping her toes into the Ganges hoping to be tickled by the Gangetic dolphin...the boy who is 6 feet tall and doesn't know the Bengali name of the Gangetic dolphin...

Or could it the other girl wanting the boatride to finish and not to finish...There is a strange frown on her brow. The brow is creased in hateful thought. Strange how relaxing and taut our lives can be(at the very same time)...Is it because we miss out on such a lot at any given second? And then suddenly it strikes us- the time that cannot be undone? We can never undo the past! There is no respite, no respite from that motion, that motion that ebbs and flows, that comes and goes, that bestows and holds back...

The motion was in the head. That eternal passing moment.


AUROBOROS banerjee said...

the sole fleeting moment bursts forth in erubescent sparks, each ember challenging several century's worth of habitual stasis with new hopes of flux, before surrendering it's meteoric existence.

a pathetic, yet brilliantly sad reminder that we are not so much diff. from that 6ft boy who didnot know the word shushuk.

his 6 feets of stature, like mortal pride, will get stunted one day, before withering away, so sad, yet so inevitable.

AUROBOROS banerjee said...

comment taa naa, ektu boro hoye galo...........hope it doesnt evince signs of dhyamnamo.

loved this post.

Elendil said...

Ei. I know the word for dolphin. I've just forgotten it. Wait, I'll tell you.

Elendil said...

Oh. *looks at Arnab's comments* shushuk it is. And Mr. Auroboros, since the 6 foot tall boy in question is me, I must tell you that I am not going to be withering into anything any time soon :P

Nimo said...

'We can never undo the past' - such an everyday truth and you mange to reflect it with such effect.

I always look forward to your posts.

Anonymous said...

Tom kaku is not very computer savvy. So he wrote down his comment on pen and paper and I am posting it here on his behalf.

Death By Water

Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell
And the profit and loss.

A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.

Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

Madhuri said...

Beautiful Ahona, but beautiful, moving on is a powerful thing, not for the faint of heart, loved this :)!!