Love letters

When Mohamed Adamally and Tracy Holsinger put together the classiest act I have seen in a long time, I can only imagine the energy that was infused into the parts they played with as much authenticity as the original caste members of “Love Letters” would have given it.

Tracy in particular was outstanding in her role as Melissa who grudgingly adheres to her best friend Andy’s request to keep in touch via the age-old method of letter writing which spans almost 6 decades that see them through childhood, love, disappointments, happy occasions, heartaches, career changes, marriage, senatorship and finally, death.

Andy’s level headedness contrasts with Melissa’s carefree spirit but they both do share a bond - an ability to be themselves with each other and as Tracy and Adam alternate their respective parts with a deftness that makes this friendship come alive, we cannot but help being drawn into their relationship which touches our hearts and moves us as we watch them pick up a paper at a time.

The actors who hold heaps of letters in their hands are able to almost personify the emotions of excitement, inquisitiveness, doubt, confusion, restlessness and lightheartedness - indeed the very essence of its contents as they go through them.

It could be said that the myriad of emotions that interplay as the two characters read each letter one by one, is cleverly brought out through the talent and artistry of the actors who did a great job of a difficult task.

Encounters was simply brilliant. Here’s a hat off to the Performing Arts Company for putting on a show to be reckoned with!

The past few days

The past few days have been amazing. Almost too good to be true for me. I haven't been this happy in a long time and the peace that I am experiencing through every situation, the way I look forward to life and embrace it - knowing that my place in eternity is secure, the thought that my life is actually counting and meaning something has brought me indescribable joy.

Work-wise, I'm actually able to make a difference and the voice that I have has spoken. It speaks, every single time. It isn't been stifled or looked over, ignored or given second place. My voice has been given its moment at just the right time and it's a beautiful feeling!

I know this post doesn't make any sense and most of you wouldn't know what on earth I'm talking about but I just can't contain my thankfulness to God for giving me this joy that I carry with me, this peace that makes is possible to live my life anew and make up for all the mistakes of the past.

Family and friend-wise, I'm living my life over and things haven't been this good in a long time. I've started and learned to forgive others ever so easily now. I've come to know myself in ways that I never did before. I've become someone completely new. I feel like a different person! I'm enjoying life completely and it's a beautiful, peaceful easy feeling (as the Eagles would put it!)

I'm truly thankful and ecstatically happy!

Not that good second time around!

Perhaps it's the fact that Susan Boyle was nothing short of absolute brilliance in her very first performance when she stunned the judges and indeed the audience with her breathtaking rendition of "I dreamed a Dream" during her first audition.

Perhaps the fact that she brings with her to stage, the highest expectations of perfection in performance which in turn causes her to feel the pressure and indeed the nerves.

Whatever the reason may be, Susan's semi-final performance of the Andrew Loyd Weber classic "Memories" was in my view, a tad below par (as by her own standards).

As the inimitable Simon Cowell would say (but didn't on this occasion), it "certainly wasn't" her best performance.

While Boyle sailed into the semis and had resounding acceptance from the audience as well as the judges who hardly had a negative word to say to her, it needn't have taken an expert to note that her semis performance was a nervous one. She was off pitch in several key points in the melody - indeed her first word "memories" starting on an off note which surprisingly, went unnoticed by the usually keen-eared judges who had nothing short of good things and supportive comments for the Scottish singer, when judging time came around. There were times when Susan ran ahead of the melody, her words clashing with the backing tracks and distracting the listener from enjoying her performance in entirety. All in all, her previous rendition of the Les Miserables classic was far ahead in terms of excellence.

Still for all, the "frumpy" singer looks all set to take the title and I personally hope she walks away with the crown. She deserves it.

The desire of her heart she says, is to sing for the Queen as is possible on winning the competition.

The Queen had better get ready to be blown away!

Gifted

Dog tired after a superb treck down south, I sat down at my PC and remembered the words of my sister – the sweet, elder sister of mine who told me during what was a very poignant moment of my dealings with her child, that I have a gift. Something that makes me come down to the level of a child no matter what his age, no matter what his background. Those words felt like a welcome splash of icy chilling water on a hot and humid day. We all love compliments but when it comes from your own kith and kin, it’s just especially different isn’t it?

I remembered the moment when my cousin inter-twined her fingers with mine as she walked up and down her garden - something she doesn’t do with anybody else, and I wondered whether my sister was right then in what she said. There was another moment far back in the 90s when a little Australian kid who hates to be with people just wouldn’t leave my side and actually cried when I moved back to Colombo. I still remember the way he sat as close as he could to me in the backseat of his dad’s car and held my hand as we went on those dare-devil motorbike rides together!

And then there is the misunderstood little girl I taught a couple of years back, who had been written off by almost all of her teachers. She was stubborn, arrogant and haughty and no one could crack the hard shell that encompassed her heart. No one but me. She pretty much melted. Melted to the extent of bringing me a rose one day and telling me that she loves me more than she does her own mother.

I know this post may sound too full of self-glorification! I assure you that wasn’t my intention. I'm just typing on my keyboard while I'm thinking out loud...

I feel I may be having a gift then, that’s going to give me a job in addition to the one I have already. My current job is fulfilling and I’m doing so well here! If I were to use my so called gifts, I would have to plunge into something that’s going to take a lot of time and energy off the one that I’m doing now. Not that I’ll give up my present job but I’m seriously considering working two jobs in the soon-to-come future.

On a closing note, it’s my sister who made me feel good about myself by suggesting that I’m gifted and that meant much to me, almost to the point of re-directing my life. I’d like to suggest in return, that you (whoever you maybe who’s reading this right now!!) have a gift too. Something that makes you special. Something that is unique to you. May you find it, if you haven’t already... even if you are in a mundane job that doesn’t seem cut out for you, may you find one that enables you to give of yourself to others. Your unique, one-in-a-million self.

And if by chance you feel that you aren't gifted? I assure you you are. We all are, one way or another. Never look a gift horse in the mouth they say... :)

Have a great June month!

We're only human

Mike Tyson’s little girl died tragically when her head got entangled with a machine which her mom was able to save her from. But not before the damage was already done. A few minutes later the child was pronounced dead.

For those of you who grew up in the 80s, you would remember the heavyweight champion as being the Ali of our times.

Tyson was also known for his aggression and “bad boy” behaviour. Having been accused of raping a young contestant of a beauty pageant, he served his term stoically, refusing to admit that he had anything to do with her – a claim he stands by to date.

His reputation in the ring took a dramatic turn when he bit off the ear of his opponent - Evander Holyfield, an event the few of us who saw will never forget. I can still remember the shock waves it sent round the boxing arena. The cover page of the TIME magazine splashing a bleeding Holyfield right across its front page as the fans that were on Tyson’s side hastily retreated on to the side of his opponent.

Tyson is not the only celebrity to grieve over the loss a child. Steven Curtis Chapman, John Travolta, Eric Clapton – they’ve all lost their kids as a young age. Eric Clapton’s little boy fell of the balcony of his apartment and was killed instantly. Yet another celebrity’s son accidentally reversed onto his little brother, killing him with that knock of death.

Today we have Yahoo headlines and Google news scooping up the entertainment news for us. “Mike Tyson’s daughter dies after tragic accident”.

Today we also have millions of internally displaced people who have lost their little ones to the war. Either voluntarily or by force, these kids have joined the movement and lost their lives to its futile cause.

The civilian families who are seeking shelter and sustenance are also families that have grieved over the disappearance, abduction or killing of their son. Their daughters have paraded the fields of LTTE training camps and worn those cyanide capsules of death. They have been taken at a ripe age, plucked out of their parent’s homes and used up for the activities of the organization.

Their daughters too have died after tragic accidents. Their killing was not purposeful. It happened in the name of war. However they were not voluntary pursuits of death. They had but little choice.

Too late now. They are far gone. But spare a thought for the families out there who are grieving and getting through their days with these losses in their hearts. They may hardly bring it to the notice of those around them. Indeed, their first priority is resettlement and care but we ought to remember there are millions of people in our own land, who are feeling the very same emotions that that brutal, aggressive heavyweight it feeling right now.

We’re only human after all.

Living the dream

There was a time when darkness hovered around my existence and clouded my judgment and self-belief, strangling my sanity into fragments of insecurity, fear, loneliness and inadequacy, when confusion and the terror of the nights made all of my worst nightmares come true. I have suffered in the past and been through the worst of times in my life.

9 years out of that hell hole that was life, the dramatic turn that my life has taken is nothing short of a miracle.

I look at my sad, oftentimes dark journey through life and look back at the paths that have been mud-splashed with loneliness and fear, terror and heartbreak and look at myself in the here and now. Could this all be a dream?

Fast forwarding into life today, I’m a beautiful woman who is in shape, with a figure I never had before. If I may say so myself, I have a beautiful body and I remember a time when I had too many sorrows in my heart to even take care of myself. I would never have thought that I’d be looking as pleasing as I do and feeling so good, too!

My work gives me so much joy and satisfaction that it’s mind boggling that I should be in this place, doing what I’ve dreamt of doing from the time I was a kid. When I think about it, this is what I wanted to the “d”. It’s the exact same vocation I used to daydream about and my personality compliments it as much as my passion and heart do.

I have found myself, and find contentment in EVERYTHING. No matter who I am with or where I have gone, I’m the same consistent person and the peace is something that’s in the core of my being. I know exactly who I am and there are no more hard efforts to “fit in” or gain approval. My confidence is in my own philosophy and that philosophy has been the key to my success.

So many years ago, I felt like an “also ran” one of many who idolized a certain person who I would look at from afar and wish I could just catch a glimpse of. I remember just remaining there, alone, gazing long after the rest of the crowd went away, so full of admiration for this person.

And now?

Here I am, loving the best friend of my life, that SAME person I adored so many years ago, a man that others were crazy about, who never took notice of their attention-getting moves and offers to cook his dinners and lunches or constant encircling but fell completely in love with - me.

He’s the one who’s there to talk to be it night or day. The one I can call up in the wee hours of the morning or the latest stroke of midnight. He holds me when I’m crying and comforts me when I’m sad. He argues with those who he thinks may even vaguely utter a bad word about me and tells them that he will never hear a word if it’s something about his best friend. He cleans up after me and feels my head while I sleep against him. He holds my hand when we cross the streets. He’s the person who’s always been there for me and reflected my best qualities back to me.

The time we spent together today will always be in my memory. I will never forget the movies he brought to my remembrance. One about a faithful wife who remains sweet in the midst of her husband’s adversity and the other about Julia, the beautiful girl who proves that good girls don’t finish last. He reminded me about all those things that I once loved doing. Like the beauty of a movie and its power to distract you to the point of absorbing a fairy-tale. He showed me the efficacy of movies in teaching me about life and intellectualism. But more than that, he just brought me joy, comfortability and drew light on the ADULT that I am, and that is what I treasure the most, about him.

All in all I’m having an amazing re-run of my life, and I just can’t thank God enough for it. It’s all a dream, and I’m living that dream.

Pada Show comments :)

I'm sorry to deviate from the usual posts but I couldn't help wanting to share excerpts from "Padashow"'s post about my blog which had me in stiches!!! Here are a few of the things he had to say, said in its funniest form which is why I'm highly tickled :)

"The moment this page loads your eyes are assaulted by something that looks like it was shat out of satan’s dog. Such a perversion of a blogger template we have never laid eyes on before."

"Don’t bother reading the content, there is none. This pada-head thinks he/she/it will be found more interesting by copy-pasting a dictionary definition into the about box. No you fuckwit, it just makes you look even more shallow than you are, which is about as shallow as a mud puddle on the surface of the sun."

Hillarious!!! Whatsmore, after Padashow critiques my dictionary definition of the word "chill" and expresses how horrified he is by the blinding glare of my template, he goes on to say ..

"Put yourself through the torture of reading text that is just glaring back at you and you will see that really, you would rather kill yourself than read"

Finally he ends up by calling my blog a blog of "deranged ramblings" :)

"You are too confused to be alive. Please go use this ’spiritual, mental, emotional and social tool’ to dispatch you to the depths of hell where you belong and nobody but the vilest creatures of this planet will have to listen to your deranged ramblings."

If there ever was a more entertaining troll, I'd challenge him to combat "padashow" who definitely made my day.. :)

Shaheen or Susan?

AUDITION

He started off a young 12 year old singer auditioning hot on the heels of Britain's sensational find Susan Boyle. Belting out an Amy Winhouse classic, Shaheen Jafargholi was halted midway (and the crowds gasped as did the comperes) by Simon Cowell who said he'd gotten it all wrong. Cowell asked him to sing another song.

The soundtrack of Michael Jackson's "Who's Loving You" began to play conveniently (which confirmed my belief that a lot of these talent shows are staged) and Shaheen started crooning, immediately winning the hearts of the judges who were stunned by his cover (which sounded as good as any little boy's rendition of that song)

SEMIFINAL

Sailing through to the semifinals, Shaheen has made headlines again. Singing the Jennifer Hudson track "I'm Telling You" has made him an overnight sensation all over again and people think he is tipped to beat Susan Boyle at the Finale.

But have you given a listen to Shaheen's performance? It's been nothing short of a ear-sore in my humble opinion. His vocals are forced and adopted. His singing is not his own. He seems to be imitating a forced impression of something far bigger than he is. It's an expressionless farce of an imitation that requires no inborn talent.

Susan Bolye in contrast is streets ahead. A genuine good find, an actually talented singer. But guess what! Britain thinks otherwise and are now of the opinion that Shaheen is a frontrunner who could go on to win this competition.

Britain's got talent. Or have they? They definitely don't have the best of jurisdiction. It would be tragically sad if this competition didn't belong to Susan Boyle.

Anyone agrees with me?

Affair with myself

Today is definitely a very special day in my life, because it’s a day when I learnt to love myself and connect with who I am.

“Love yourself?” you may ask. It’s a simple thing isn’t it? Loving yourself is something almost anyone would do.

So you would think. Well I didn’t. Not until today.

You see I had grown distant from myself and started self-doubting to almost dangerous proportions of lows. I had quit talking to myself, finding out what I think, what I like, what I feel … the interaction I had with myself had stopped almost months, if not years ago.

I realized that my life-schedule was such that I had busied myself with the affairs of activity and its many duties and rituals which were burning me out and making me someone that was barely recognizable to my own self.

The danger in that happening is that you no longer know who are and therefore have troubling understanding yourself. When you have trouble understanding yourself, there is precious little one can do in your time of worry, trouble, anxiety and perplexing need, to help you out and get you into a position in which you could be satisfied and at peace again. Because you lose who you are in the process, and it’s seldom easy to find yourself in a hurry in situations that pose more than a dilemma at a time.

Today all that changed. I took time to get to know me again. - To listen to my own heartbeat, - to get to know how I’ve been doing all these months and years, - to rid myself of all those old hurts and mistakes, prejudices and impulsive wrongs – all of which I had gone through in my life the past couple of months.

- To ask myself why I had gotten myself into those situations and to try and understand myself.

- To be gentle with myself and see myself through the eyes of the eternal God and not my own selfish eyes.

- To know when to draw the line when it came to believing myself and what I know to be true as opposed to what the world has to offer.

- To not be afraid but merely to understand with wise and sound perception that there truly is a difference and to not be afraid to live in that difference.
Today was indeed epiphanic and I’m thankful for this day. This beautiful day that God gave me.

A comic look at language!

The aim of language is not merely to convey an idea that needs to be expressed. Not always do we use words to intentionally communicate a thought in our minds, to someone else. "What??" you may ask. Well, in order to prove that the aim of language is not merely to state out thoughts and our feelings, let us consider a few instances when we use language mechanically.

Greetings like “good morning” or “ayubowan” in Sri Lanka. It is customary to say “Good morning” or “ayubowan” when we meet or greet a person. But do we really at that moment wish that person good life or a good morning with all our heart? No we don’t. Although we may say “good morning” we may be thinking about something else.

So we see that the aim of language used in saying “good morning” or “ayubowan” is not to state our thoughts. It is the same with the colloquial expression “how is life?” or “how are things with you”. We may ask a person how he/she is keeping but we may not really want to know. Thus we expect a simple answer like “okay” or “fine, thank you”. Even the utterance “thank you” is made more as a courtesy than as a means of expressing inner gratitude. Language is used out of courtesy.

When we meet a person who’s sweating in the sun, we sometimes stop to say “the sun is very hot today”. Do we really mean to tell him something that he already knows? No we don’t. We just mechanically say these things in order to establish social-public relations. Sometimes our thoughts are far away but we don’t want to seem rude so we just say “yes” or “I know”. Language is used to be diplomatic.

Exclamations we make when lifting something together or alone, expressions used by sportsmen and women – they only help to lessen the burden. Language is used to release energy. When we are in intense pain, we shout or scream. When we are angry, we raise our voices. We sometimes shout at people but then when we are calmer, we regret what has been said. We ask forgiveness for saying things we “didn’t mean”.

When friends get together, they fool each other. They tell each other jokes. One may tell another “you’re so proud that your head is up in the clouds” but a little while later he says “I was just joking”. This is because he was not in fact serious – he did not really mean that his friend is so proud that his head is up in the clouds. He was just using language to entertain his friend – to entertain himself by fooling his friend.

Little children recite nursery rhymes. Language is used to sing “Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?” But when the child sings “have you any wool?” the child does not mean to actually ask a sheep whether it has any wool. When children play “what’s the time Mr. Wolf?” do they actually talk to a wolf, do they actually want to know the time? No. For language is merely being used with the aim of having fun, being a part of the game.

The language used for songs too proves that the aim of language is not only to let our thoughts be known. We often sing songs when we are alone, when we are bored – yet we do not mean the words we sing. When rocking little children to sleep, we sing soft lullabies, though the child cannot hear. We sing to little babies, yet we know that they cannot understand.

We sometimes talk to animals while lovingly stroking and petting them. In our grief we sometimes talk to the dead person in the coffin. We ask “why did you have to die?” But we don’t mean what we say to the extent that we don’t expect out language to communicate with that person. Yet though we know that that person can’t hear us, we continue to talk to him as if he were alive.

At religious ceremonies, temples, devalayas, language is greatly used as chants and verses. Yet those who listen and take part in the ceremonies don’t really understand what is being said. Language is used with the aim of gaining psychological relief. When taking office, when a person is sworn in, when a person takes oaths etc, though language is being used, it is used more as a requirement than as a means for expressing oneself.

Thus we see that the aim of language is not merely to communicate our thoughts.

Language (and its usage) is a spiritual, mental, emotional and social tool that we use everyday, unknowingly almost mechanically but more as a necessity than to communicate our thoughts.

Little paws

Something I've noticed on my jaunts up and down the street are how the little pawmarks of a puppy appear on surfaces when I least expect it!

Be it on a rough edged pavement or a smooth side walk, the cement shows the scampering of a little doggy's feet that appears to have cristened the virgin wet cement long enough to have made permanent imprints.

Have you chanced to notice tarred/cemented sidewalks and pavements exhibiting these puppy-paw hickies, too?

The singing lesson

“The Singing Lesson” by Katherine Mansfield is a piece of prose that does more than merely describe a singing lesson in a music hall. One of the features of this excerpt is that it is an exploration of many ideas, the chief of which may be that a teacher’s personal life and disappointment can affect every other sphere of her life and work.

The central character and subject of this passage is Miss Meadows and through the author’s characterization, we get an insight into human nature. The prose begins with Miss Meadows trodding the corridors of the music hall with despair in her heart while the girls around her hurry, skip and flutter by. Here the sharp contrast between the fluttering girls and the trodding Miss Meadows, the feelings within oneo and the glee and excitement of the other help to heighten our awareness of Miss Meadows as a symbolic figure of isolation and despair.

Not only is there a contrast of moods between the bubbling girls and the despairing Miss Meadows but also a contrast between Miss Meadows and another character – the Science Mistress. The discourse between them conveys much in terms of different traits in human beings. Miss Meadows is bitter and full of hatred as she stares at the Science Mistress while the Science Mistress is a symbol; of artificiality as she drawls during her conversation “Good mor-ning” “win”ter” “fro-zen”. Thus the language supports the characterization of the Science Mistress. The use of a series of adjectives and nouns further emphasizes the insincerity and gloom of the Science Mistress. For example – the Science Mistress’s “sweet, affected” drawl, her “sugary smile” and “mocking light” in her eyes and the “grim” answer and quick grimace of Miss Meadows.

Having analyzed the author’s device of contrasting characters within a setting, we see how the setting (not only of the “cold corridors: that lead to the music hall but) the setting ofd the music hall itself represents Miss Meadows’ state of mind. The visual and acoustic images too are effective in emphasizing the mournful tone of the piece - “down came Mary on the opening chord, down came all those left hands, beating the air and in chimed those young, mournful voices”.

The author’s use of metaphors and similes to describe the effect the latter has on Miss Meadows is potent. Miss Meadows hugs “the knife”. The despair – cold, sharp despair is buried deep in her heart like a wicked knife. She stands there bleeding to death, pierced to the heart, to the heart by such a letter.

The unvarying monotony of the routine of the singing lesion is depicted through Mary Beazley’s motioning rather than the handing of a beautiful yellow chrysanthemum to her mistress. This is referred to as a “little ritual” that had been going on for “ages and ages” and as much a part of the lesson as opening the piano”. The implications of these lines convey the repetitive, dull motions of the class through authorial comment.

Katherine Mansfield illustrates another human trait – that of self-absorption in times of personal grief. Having pronounced the effect of the letter on Miss Meadows, the author goes on to depict the manner in which others are affected too, as a result of Miss Meadows”totally” ignoring everything and everyone around her. The manner in which her glance sweeps over the students as she looks at nobody, the way in which she assumes her students to be thinking “Meady is in a wax” and the manner in which she defies them in general is an indication of her pre-occupation with herself. Yet the effect that self enthrallment in her moment of personal despair has on Mary Beazley confirms the examination of this human tendency to neglect and ignore others at a time of personal crisis.

Miss Meadows totally ignores the chrysanthemum to Mary’s “horror”. She makes no reply to her greetings but speaks in a “voice of ice” (another metaphor that is used to illustrate Miss Meadow’s tone). Mary blushes as tears stand in her eyes. It is a “staggering moment” for Mary, but Miss Meadows was “gone back to the music stand”.

Finally, “The Singing Lesson” is didactic in conveying the manner in which moods change because of external events. The contents of the letter are heartbreaking to the extent of having the power to influence the countenance, spirit, and mood of not only Miss Meadows but eventually all those in the music hall. The choice and lyrics of the song “A Lament” express Miss Meadow’s state of mind. Thus a fine autumn morning “yields into winter drear”. The deafening noise of chatter changes into a chime of “young mournful voices”

Thus “The Singing Lesson” gives great significance to a letter and its consequent result on the moods of a series of people who are subsequently affected by that initial reaction of “sharp despair: in the heart of Miss Meadows. Therefore it is a piece of writing that reveals the author’s sensitivity and effort to successfully convey the consequences of human grief not only on the grieved (Miss Meadows) but all those she comes in contact with.

© Slow Chills

Wednesdays at the bone orchard

This story is an Orchardeer’s narration of what goes on at the bone orchard on a Wednesday. It is a description of the Orchardeer’s routine of disposing body parts in the form of “deliveries” to their “owners”.

There is perhaps a conscious under-rating and trifling of the solemn task which is subtle to the extent of actually intensifying the reality of what happens at the bone orchard and the feelings of the Orchardeers who work there. For the portrayal of the entire process of handling these body parts, is made accurate and realistic through the unemotional description and analysis of what is a frequent occurrence there. There is also a sense if credibility in the narration as the Orchardeers are not mere spectators but speak from experience as they are directly involved in the process described in these lines. – “we collate body parts”. “We slide howsoever many parts there are…”, “we have no bureau of complaints”. The narrator speaks for all the Orchardeers by not limiting himself/herself to a first person account of a single Orchardeer. (though there IS an instance when he/she briefly steps out of the scene by commenting that “the Orchardeers cannot care where they are sent”)

The Orchardeer depicts the activities of collating, arranging and shipping of body parts as being work done mechanically, with no demonstration of sentiment and no significance placed on the fact that these are parts of humans that are being dealt with. There is a total lack of regular meter, rhythm and rhyme as the author uses the technique of using a direct, straightforward arrangement of words that are free from poetical measures. This perhaps highlights the absence of shock, hysteria and any display of emotion in the Orchardeer.

The author’s use of words is effective in conveying a sense of instant de-humanixation in the Orchardeer’s handling of body parts. The total inanimation of the parts of dead bodies at the bone orchard is made extremely obvious as the author (Orchardeer) refers to “body parts”, “deliveries”, “body parts manufactured overseas”, “ears and limbs” that are intact etc.

The reader is able to recognize and engage with the reality of what is depicted here, for although there is a reference to U.S. Savings bonds, the reality of the death of loved ones who are at war away from “home folks” is universal. This may or may not be a personal event, but it IS a recognizable one; for although the “U.S.” is cited here, this text is not culturally alien to the reader. The reader can relate to the experience (even if not of the Orchardeers or even a recipient’s) at least as one who is familiar with the knowledge of its occurrence.

The visual image of “contents” that are “confused” – the visual description of “green plastic bags and manila name tag” contribute to the making of a distinct mental picture of the activity at the bone orchard in the reader’s mind.

These lines do more than just provide an account of a typical Wednesday at the bone orchard; as they are indirectly draw the reader’s attention to the manner in which “owners” may be deceived if they believe their “deliveries” to contain only the parts of their loved ones.

There is a tone of indifference to (and yet an attitude of awareness of) the unavoidable irregularities that take place and cannot be helped as the Orchardeers tamper with the contents in the packages revoking name tags and sliding in parts. The Orchardeer’s knowledge of the responsibility of sending the “right package to the home folks” becomes ironic as he/she soon after, states: “BUT the green plastic bags and manila name tags are revoked here”.

There is also a hint of irony in the process of ceremoniously dispatching these body parts that still for all, are confused but “rare refused”.

There is a tone of sensitivity (as the Orchardeers “gently” slide parts into the wrapping so they won’t “jar the hearts of the receivers”) and a lack of it (as the Orchardeers “cannot care where they are sent”) not only on the part of the Orchardeers but the recipients too, who “faint and/or put the contents on display”. The author’s tone becomes formal as he/she uses the words “and/or” to describe the varied responses of the recipients.

These lines take on a satiric mode as the author displays his/her knowledge of the compensation forwards to the families of the dead and the sundry of uses they make of it to do whatever they may choose. “Purchase U.S. savings bonds, use it for a trip abroad, or erect a memorial they could not once afford”. Yet the humour is subtle and may escape the reader, as any attempt to be skeptical is not made too obvious as the prediction of the use of the “sum” that is forwarded is not exaggerated or completely untrue, but highly probably as they can “do whatever they may choose”.

Thus the Orchardeer’s narration of “Wednesdays at the bone orchard” may be seen not only as an honest depiction of the reality and inevitabilities that follow death (possibly on the battle field) and becoming “body parts” but also a depiction of the Orchardeers and a reflection of their attitude as they handle and unite body parts with its recipients.

© Slow Chills

Back to basics

I've returned to an age-old habit I had left so many, many years ago!

Reading always completed me and opened my eyes to horizons beyong me, naturally improving my vocabulory and calming my soul as it drifted off into a whole new world of richness and diversity.

It was the world of fiction that gave me my unique gift - the gift of the gab which characterized my writings as way back as the yesteryears I spent in College!

Books as much as movies do, open the windows of one's heart to experiencing and feeling new things, new emotions, new thoughts and new ideologies that make it possible for someone in the here and now, to travel in space and time to a place in which newness is felt in one's heart.

It is this newness that refreshes the very core of one's being as the experience is relived with as much passion and enthusiasm as it is told and therein lies the bond created between storyteller and receiver.

I'm more than happy that I have recultivated a passion that held me in good stead in my most formative years of growing up.

Enough said - I'm off with a new book!!

Self-belief

Staying away from someone has given me so much space that I've been able to breathe again. There's absolutely no inclination on my part to initiate contact again and I feel that this is partly due to the showdown he had with me last Thursday. Like a true scorpio, I haven't been able to come to terms with the fact that he needs me to understand that the reason he's afraid he'd get his heart broken is because I've grown so special to him.

On the one hand I understand him but then again on the other, a part of me retorts to the fact that he would cause me this much pain by not believing in me.

Perhaps the reason for this is that I don't believe in myself adequately enough. Perhaps this is why I've depended so much on someone else believing in me and mirroring back this self-belief.

Then again when I think of all the times I have been far from truthful in my dealings with him, I grow more and more ashamed. He has always been honest with me, transparent and truthful, and as much as he revels in it, it IS his due. He's been a good friend and a good person which is a far cry from what I could say about myself.

Whether or not he is a good influence, is left to be seen. I wouldn't consider him to be a good influence. But I have to say, there are times when he has tried very hard to comfort me and to make me feel secure by offering solutions the best way he knows how to.

I need to believe in myself more. It's time I did that so that I would grow in self-security and be confident enough to stand on my own two feet, without depending on him.

I feel determined to do this from now on.

Emma

“The real evils indeed of Emma’s situation were the power of having rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too well of herself” (Authorial comment – “Emma” by Jane Austen)

Emma Woodhouse, the heroine of Jane Austen’s novel”Emma” (1816) is indeed not only a social snob, but also too sure of her own wrong judgment. Yet I would not consider this to be a fair assessment of Austen’s heroine.

Emma IS a social snob. She is disdainful and conceited and her arrogance is clearly perceptible. Her class consciousness is acute and her sense of superiority over many characters is displayed through her many thoughts and opinions on every one of them.

Mrs. Martin she concludes is “probably some mere farmer’s daughter without education”. Mr. Martin is no more than a young “farmer”. Mr Elton is spurned for “supposing himself her equal in connection or mind” and most provoking, fancying himself to show “no presumption in addressing her!” He should have known that “the Woodhouses have been settled for several generations at Hartfield, the younger branch of a very ancient family” – and that the Eltons were “nobody”. Emma considers Mrs. and Miss Bates – “a waste of time, tiresome women” and shudders at “the horror of being in danger of falling in with the second and third rate of Highbury,, who were calling on them for ever and therefore …” she seldom wants to go near them. She thinks “very little” of Miss Hawkins, whose uncle she guesses to be “the drudge of some attorney and too stupid to rise”. Mrs. Elton she suspects, has manners which had been formed in a bad school, pert and familiar… if not foolish, she was ignorant”. Emma detests “the degradation of being said to be of Mrs. Elton’s party.” She does not want to be classed with the Mrs. Eltons, the Mrs. Perrys and the Mrs. Coles”. Emma’s snooty nature makes her determined not to go to the Coles. She determines to refuse their onvitation as “they ought to be taught that it was not for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would visit them”. She does not “consent” to Jane Fairfax and Mr. Knightley’s presumed match and considers it a “very shameful and degrading connection”. When Hariied asks how the Coxes looked, her reply – “just as they always do – very vulgar”. Emma could not believe it possible that “the taste or the pride of Miss Fairfax could endure such society and friendship as the vicarage had to offer”. Harriet when assumed to be Mr. Knightley’s object, is considered “such a debasement” on his part. Though interesting and brilliant, Emma Woodhouse IS a social snob.

“In all her novels, though in varying degrees, Jane Austen regards the characters, good and bad alike, with ironical amusement, because they never see the situation as it really is” – A.C Bradley (1911)

Emma IS deluded into believing herself to be right and never wrong in her judgment. The
Success of the match made between Mr. Weston and Miss Taylor swells her pride as she proudly asserts – “I made the match .. and to be pr oved in the right … may comfort me for anything”. Mr. Elton – “the very person fixed on by Emma for driving the young farmer out of Harriet’s head. She thought it would be an excellent match”. Her quarrel with Mr. Knightley cannot result in repentance on her part as “she certainly had not been in the wrong…” Even though she regrets not having been satisfied with persuading Harriet not to accept young Martin, she insists to herself – “there I was right”. How sure she is of her own wrong judgment is distinct, as having believed the Martins to be well meaning and worthy before, she thinks “what difference did this make in the evils of the connection?”. Thus she refuses to even consider the possibility of her judgment being wrong. “-how could she have done otherwise?- Impossible! She could not repent. They must be separated.”

Emma is not only too sure of her own wrong judgment, she imposes it on others too. “She could think nothing better … it must be done or what would become of Harriet?” She is “determined not to allow” Harriet’s visit to the Martins to “exceed the proposed quarter of an hour”. How wrong her judgment is, is illustrated as “…they were just growing again like themselves, when the carriage re-appeared and all was over”. Emma is “convinced” that Frank Churchill came to Highbury “intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted, they must be”. Even in the course of a “trivial chat”, she foists her view - “well Harriet, whenever you marry, I would advise you to do so and so”. Her consolation of “knowing that her intentions were good” confirms the authorial comment “but her judgment was as string as her feelings”.

Yet Emma though a “social snob” and “too sure of her own wrong judgment”, does mature and does begin to realize the fallibility of her own judgment.

“Her characters are so rounded and substantial that they have the power to move out of the scenes in which she placed them, into other moods and circumstances.” – Sybil G Brinton (1913)

Emma was infact “beginning very much to consider what she had ever thought pleasing at all” about Mr. Elton. Frank Churchill’s impulsive haircut does not accord with the rationale and moderation “which she had believed herself to discern in him yesterday”. She considers Harriet poor to be a “second time the dupe of her misconceptions and flattery”. Emma is “determined against all interference” or matchmaking/ “… the remembrance of all her former fanciful and unfair conjectures was so little pleasing…” that she moves into a mood of contemplation and realization. She perceives her folly and sighs “does my vain spirit ever tell me I am wrong?” She realizes “…the blunder, the blindness of her own head and heart!” and that “with insufferable vanity believed herself in the secret of everybody’s feelings with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange everybody’s destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken” – “Miss Austen’s novels – an estimate of human follies...” – R.H. Hutton (1869).

Though interesting and brilliant, Emma Woodhouse is a social snob too sure of her own wrong judgment. But this is not a fair assessment of Austen’s heroine. For with all her faults, her arrogance and domineering personality, Emma is kind. She attends to Harriet – “Emma said with her as long as she could, to attend to her in Mrs. Goddard’s unavoidable absence and raise her spirits… and left her at last tolerably comfortable”. She gives her time to visit “an old servant who was married and settled in Donwell” and charity – is a virtue that pleases her heart.

As Harrriet speaks, Emma fells that she cannot “shew greater kindness than in listening”.

“Come, come” cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject” – Here we see that she is a keeper of the peace in her family. She “dreaded being quarrelsome” with Mr. Knightley. Emma cannot be considered to be willfully selfish as “the worst of all” the part that brought pain and humiliation to her in the Mr. Elton-Harriet episode, was that “she would gladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken – more in error – more disgraced by misjudgment than she actually was, could the affects of her blunders have been confined to herself”. She is indeed unselfish as “she listened with much inward suffering, but with great outward patience to Harriet’s detail” regarding Mr. Knightely’s attention.

Emma is humble and modest – “She knew that limitations of her own powers too well to attempt more than she could perform with credit”. She never attempted to conceal from herself that Miss Fairfax’s voice and playing was “superior to hers”

Emma is genuinely concerned for her friend. “Emma felt that till she saw her in the way of cure, there could be no true peace for herself”.

She is sincerely sorry and she acknowledges finer qualities in Harriet –“..Convinced that Harriet was the superior creature of the two and that to resemble her would be more for her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or intelligence could do”.

Emma is loyal to Mrs. Weston as Frank Chuchhill if “deficient there” could make no amends for it.

She is sympathetic – “Emma could not but pity such feelings, whatever their origin, and could not but resolve never to expose them to her neighbour again”. Deslite all her haughtiness before, she is softhearted – “her heart had been long growing kinder towards Jane, and this picture of her present sufferings acted as a cure of every former ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing but pity…”

She restrains herself consciously, reluctant to hurt Jan’es feelings.

“… it was at her tongue’s end – but she abstainted. She was quite determined not to utter a word that should hurt Jane Fairfax’s feelings”

Emma is a dutiful daughter and friend – “her father” – and Harriet. She could not be alone without feeling the full weight of their separate claims, and how to guard the comfort of both to the utmost, was the question”

Most importantly, Emma Woodhouse though “a social snob too sure of her wrong judgment”, is truly sorry when she realizes the person she is and has been, as is proven through a series of regrets.

“I ought to have been more her friend”

“..How could she be so cruel to Miss Bates! … Emma felt the tears running down her cheeks almost all the way home”

Thus we see that this assessment – “though interesting and brilliant, Emma Woodhouse is a social snob too sure of her own wrong judgment” is not a fair assessment of Austen’s heroine!

© Slow Chills

Haven

As I toyed with the different emotions that were running through my mind, I began to recall an instance when someone who swallowed up my self security with her looming gown of fantasy, actually looked to me to comfort and assure her moments before she took the big stage.

And comfort, I did, managing to let her feel that she was loved, to make her feel she was being listented to and understood. She was so nervous that her face was sour, her eyes welling up with tears as she looked as if she were on the verge of bursting into a panic attack. Her vulnerability amazed me and the safety of my words and the comfort of my touch was spontanous from my side, surprising even me.

Fast forward into a situation when I could see yet another seasoned actor coming into play, a supposedly self confident woman, she was a bundle of nerves, a mesh of insecurity and she flooded my inbox with texts that were begging, screaming for approval and appealing for reassurance.

That's when I reazlied that calmness and reassurance, unfaltering fortitude and a good sense of oneself, level headed sensibility and an unpretentious, unassuming nature is a haven and source of confort, love and inspiration to almost anyone, regardless of what backgrounds they came from. Moreover, even the toughest heart of stone would melt with the constant trickle of water that would work away at its rough exterior until it melted bit by bit, the roughest of hearts.

Love and lies

“I’d lie for you and that’s the truth!”

Ever remember Meatloaf’s constant fascination with the “L” word during the early 90s? Well that’s what my post is about and I’m hoping that you’d be able to help me out because I’m completely lost, lonely, livid, languishing and loving - lies.

You see it all began with an internet romance.

I was the unsuspecting friend, comrade, partner in whine (or crime) and he was the perfect stranger. Time rolled by and the texts came in. We started getting as close as calling. Real time separating us though the boundaries of masses of ocean didn’t mean a thing and the distance made our hearts grow fonder. I however, remained faithful to the descriptive of the complete dictionary definition of “platonic” and what a relief that was, to my soul. It made me free to talk, to ramble, pour out my at times wounded heart, to share, laugh with, to pick up the phone and text some expletive and have my kindred soul – friend at the other end, laughing, agreeing, arguing and advising (the “a”words! – it’s all about the letters isn’t it?!)

And then he fell in love.

And in with the mayhem.

Ever since he fell in love, came the passion, pleas, possessiveness, paranoia (yes – all the “p” words!) But I kept things in “p”erspective and we both knew that we could never have each other. On with the friendship! And this is where I began to crumble, to deteriorate, to sin. For all the attention I was getting, was the pressure to live up to this complete goddess image he had created of me. I could do no wrong, so lies, lies, and more lies. I was never a liar to begin with and I insist that I am and was a good person but I started finding myself craving for those beautiful lullaby- like love texts he sent me. When they subsided and he held back, in with the lies about some dastardly wicked thing some non-existent friend has done to me. NOBODY (other than you my readers) knows that these little white lies have been part of my routine when it comes to my friendship with Mr. Overseas.
I searched my soul and looked deep inside to see this poor soul who was losing a battle with the squeaky clean person I began with, batter my self esteem to the ground with guilt.

Am I in love? Yes. In love with the attention. But not in love with him. I never asked him to fall in love with me. Who’s to blame? Why has he made a liar out of me? To be fair, Mr. Overseas has hurt me with his paranoia. His outbursts of jealousy were all the reasons why I had to lie and avoid telling him the truth at certain times. A typical Cache 21 situation.

I tell myself that I can’t live this way with the only friend in the world (out of a good 500 on Facebook) that knows me the most, yet makes me become the worst. My personality has changed from being a conscientious, friendly person, to a guilt-tripping, “eager to please” person. You see, whenever he gets upset, it’s all my entire fault. No – I mean it. It really is.

I’ve lied for him ... – and that’s the truth..

Heathcliff

“My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath … I am Heathcliff – he’s always, always in my miund – not as a pleasure anymore than I am always a pleasure to myself – but as my own being”

“Wuthering Heights” (1847) by Emily Bronte (1818-1848) is indeed a deeply romantic novel as well as a novel of character presented with compassion. Let us examine excerpts fro the novel which justify this statement, for this is a tale that revolves around the childhood, the love and life of a variety of characters and it is important to consider these characters as it is they who enhance the romance, the character and the compassion within this great love story.

“Wuthering Heights” is a novel of romance. The depth and ferocity of love between Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff overshadow the more tender relationships between the other characters. For it is this relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff that makes the novel deeply romantic.

Cathy and Heathcliff share a unique bond that develops from childhood friendship and fondness for one another – “she was much too fond of Heathcliff. The greatest punishment we could invent for her was to keep her separate from him; yet, she got chided more than any of us on his account”. The curate might set as many chapters as he pleased for Catherine to get by heart, and Joseph might thrash Heathcliff till his arm ached, they forget everything the minute they were together again”, misery at the thought of separation – “… my misery arose from the separation that Hindley ordered between me and Heathcliff, to possessiveness and undying affection – “the crosses are for the evening you spent with the Lintons, the dots for those spent with me – do you see I’ve marked everyday?” “…Heathcliff kept his hold on her affections unalterably and young Linton with all his superiority, found it difficult to make an equally deep impression.

Cathy and Heathcliff are emotionally dependent on one another as Cathy declares “… he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightning or frost from fire”

“Every Linton on the face of the earth might melt into nothing, before I could consent to forsake Heathcliff”

Their deep love is eternal to the extent of not being vanquished even in death. The last words between Cathy and Heathcliff as Cathy is near her heath are passionate, frantic and emotional.

“I only wish us never be parted – and should a word of mine distress you hereafter, think I feel the same distress underground .. You never harmed me in your life”.

“You must not go!” she answered, holding him as firmly as her strength allowed. “you shall not. I tell you”. The romance of a lover willing to sacrifice his life for love, is evident as Heathcliff cries “hush, hush Catherine! I’ll stay. If he shot me so, I’d expire with a blessing on my lips”

The romance does not end with Cathy’s death as Heathcliff explains“… -what is not connected with her to me? And what does not recall her to me?

“Being alone and conscious two yards of loose earth was the dole barrier between us, I said to myself – “I’ll not have her in my arms again. If she be cold, I’ll think it is this north wind that chills me; and if she be motionless, it is sleep”

Wuthering Heights is also a novel of character.

“Having avowed that over much of Wuthering Heights there broods “a horror of great darkness” that in its storm-heated and electric atmosphere, we seem at times to breathe lightning, let me point to these spots where clouded day light and the eclipsed sun still attest their existence. For a specimen of true benevolence and homely fidelity, look at the character of Nelly Dean; for an example of constancy and tenderness, remark that of Edgar Linton. There is a dry saturnine humour in the delineation of old Joseph and some glimpses of grace and gaiety animate the young Catherine. Nor is even the first heroine of the name destitute of a certain strange beauty in her fierceness, or of honesty in the midst of perverted passion and passionate perversity” – Charlotte Bronte (1850)

Yet there lies a truly sympathetic, compassionate understanding of each character. Emily Bronte does not justify or excuse any action through authorial comment, but presents each character with a history that enables the reader to understand that neither for example Heathcliff, Hareton nor Linton can help what circumstances have made them become. She does not judge then. She only presents them – and that she does, with compassion.

George Washington Pech (in June 1848) comments : on Healthcliass’s language as being coarse in many instances i.e when Heathcliff describes to Nelly how Cathy was bitten by a bulldog - :I vociferated curses enough to annihilate any fiend in Christendom” and also when Heathcliff tells Nelly how Cathy was taken care of in the parlour of the Lintons :.. I intended shattering their great glass panes to a million fragments unless they let her of” “.. a dim refection from her own enchanting face – I saw they were full of stupid admiration” etc

Sydney Dobell too condemns the portrayal of Heathcliff.

“Heathcliff might have been as unique a creation. The conception in his case was as wonderfully strong and original, but he is spoilt in detail. The authoress has too often disgusted where she should have terrified, and has allowed us a familiarity with her fiend which has ended in unequivocal contempt” – Sydney Dobell (September 1850)

Yet the novel does present Heathcliff with compassion. For although Mrs. Dean describes him as rough as a saw-edge and hard as whinstone and warns Lockwood – “the less you meddle with him the better”, the description of Heathcliff’s childhood is such that one can understand the reason for hid dark nature – “He seemed a sullen, patient child, hardened perhaps, to ill treatment; he would stand Hindley’s blows without winking or shedding a tear, and my pinches moved him only to draw in a breath and open his eyes as if he had hurt himself by accident and nobody was to blame”

Hindely is portrayed as a wicked young man – “He drove him from their company to the servants, deprived him of the instructions of the curate, and insisted that he should labour out of doors instead, compelling him to do, as hard as any other lad on the farm.

Yet the portrayal is not devoid of compassion. “…the young master had learnt to regard his father as an oppressor rather than a friend, and Heathcliff as a usurper of his parent’s affections, and his privileges, and he grew bitter with brooding over these injuries.

Mrs. Linton begs that her darlings be kept apart from that “naughty, swearing boy”. Heathcliff and this enables the reader to understand Heathcliff’s alienation and humiliation. The innocence with which Heathcliff sincerely desires to be good truly heightens compassion towards Heathcliff whose consciousness of deprivation is further made clear.

“Nelly, make me decent. I’m going to be good”
“I wish I had light hair and a fair skin and was dressed and behaved as well and had a chance of being as rich as he will be!”

The violent atmosphere in which little Hareton is raised – “Little Hareton who followed me everywhere and was sitting near me on the floor, at seeing my tears, commenced crying himself and sobbed out complaints against “wicked aunt Cathy” which dreaw her fury on his unlucky head; she seized his shoulders and shook him till the poor child waxed livid” is self explanatory as we see his unfriendly response to Nelly Deam – “He raised his missile to hurl it. I commenced a soothing speech but could not stay his hand. The strong struck my bonnet”.

Isabella too is presented with compassion because of her infatuation with Heathcliff.
“… You know I liked to be there!” “I wanted to be with –“: with him...” is transformed after marriage to utter hatred. “I do hate him – I am wretched – I have been a fool!”

Linton is condemned by Nelly who describes him as the worst tempered bit of a sickly slip that ever struggled into its teens and happily won’t win twenty. Nelly says “…small loss to his family, whenever he drops off…” But Catherine’s compassion – “I knew now that I mustn’t’ tease him as he was ill; and I spoke softly and put no questions and avoided irritating him in any way” proves a sympathy towards Heathcliff’s feeble child.

There are some critics who would not agree that “Wuthering Heights” is a romantic novel of character and compassion.

“In spite of much power and cleverness, in spite of its truth in life in the remote nooks and corners of England, “Wuthering Heights” is a disagreeable story” – H.F Chorky (1847)

There are still others who are extremely harsh on this book.

“How a human being could have attempted such a book as the present without committing suicide before he had finished a dozen chapters, is a mystery. It is a compound of vulgar depravity and unnatural horrors, such as we might suppose a person, inspired by a mixture of brandy and gun powder, might write for the edification of fifth-rate blackguards” – unsigned notice of “Wuthering Heights” in “Graham’s Magazine” (July 1847)

Yet Wuthering Heights for the reasons discussed before, is a deeply romantic novel as well as a novel of character presented with compassion.

“It is not everyday that so good a novel makes its appearance; and to give its contents in detail would be depriving many a reader of half the delight he would experience from the perusal of the world itself. To it’s pages we must refer him then, there will he have ample opportunity of sympathizing – if he has one touch of nature that “makes the world kin” – with the feelings of childhood, youth, manhood and age, and all the emotions and passions which agitate the restless bosom of humanity. May he derive from it the delight we have ourselves experienced, and be equally grateful to its author for the genuine pleasure he has afforded him” – unidentified review of “Wuthering Heights” reproduced by Charles Simpson.

© Slow Chills

Jane Eyre

I agree that Jane Eyre, a Victorian woman of the early 19th century England, because of her unconventional attitude and fresh portrayal as an independent woman, may be considered a counterpart of the contemporary woman. It is important to understand the position of women in early 1847, for this helps us to understand the plight of the Victorian women who were bound by restrictions, constraints and demands of conventionality that were imposed on them – the convention being that men shouldered responsibilities while women were confined to “making puddings, knitting stockings, playing the piano and making embroidery bags”, thus denying the presence of their will intelligence and activity in society - beyond household chores.

Jane Eyre is a counterpart of the contemporary woman as she was almost revolutionary in resisting the society-imposed conventions on 19th century women. By daring to be strong in her personal beliefs regarding her life, her conscience, her feelings and her needs, by daring to be courageous enough to defy the social acceptance of weakness and dependence as being a part of every women’s nature, she indeed is a counterpart of the contemporary woman who continues to assert herself as being equal with man – independent and strong.

In order to confirm that she is much like the women of today, let us examine carefully, her thoughts, feelings and actions in the episodes of her life as a grown woman.

Jane is bored with her life at Lowood. Tired of the routine of eight years, she desired liberty. “For liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer.” We can hear her echo the sentiments of the contemporary woman as she longs for a power of vision which might overpass that limit. Looking out into the fields of Thornfield Hall, she longs to reach the busy world, towns, and regions full of life that she had heard of but never seen. Like the contemporary woman she longs to explore. She is curious. While others tremble, she longs to gratify her “much excited curiosity” of the Gypsy woman at Thornfield Hall. She revolts against convention and almost directly addresses men by declaring that women feel “just as men feel” and “suffer from too rigid a constraint”. She is emotional and passionately against the conventions of her time, thinking in “narrow minded” of men to say that women ought to confine themselves. The contemporary woman’s counterpart she is, as she thinks it “thoughtless” to condemn or laugh at women if they “seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex”. She further resists custom. “Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? ... I am talking to you now through the medium of custom...”

Jane Eyre is intelligent. “I had a keen delight in receiving the new ideas he offered … never startled or troubled by one noxious allusion”. She is frank. Even Rochester is amazed and mentally shakes hands with her frank and sincere manner. “One does not often see such a manner” he says.” … not three in three thousand raw school-girl governesses would have answered me as you have just done/” She is fearless of men – another indication of the likeness to the contemporary woman who fearlessly challenges men to not deny her equality. When she first meets Rochester, she says “I felt no fear of him, and but little shyness.” Her conversations with Rochester and St. John Rivers, show her forthright nature as she addresses them boldly, frankly. “Your language is enigmatical sir but though I am bewildered, I am certainly not afraid.” “Don’t call me handsome sir, though I love you most dearly, far too dearly to flatter you. Don’t flatter me.” John Rivers is almost starched at her sudden and strange abruptness. He looks astonished as he remarks “you are original and not timid:. Jane places herself between the door and St. John ho is rather embarrassed. She says “you certainly shall not go till you have told me all”, and yet like o unlike the contemporary woman, she does restrain herself. “… I never dared complain, because I that to murmur would be to vex him”.

She is confident in the woman that she is and sees no competition between Blanche Ingram and herself as she decides “she could never charm him”. Blanche Ingram is beautiful, graceful and attractive but Jane who thinks that even little Adele thinks too much of her “toilette” despises the thought of being other than she is. “Don’t crown me with roses; you might as well put a border of gold lace round that plain pocket handkerchief”. Even her wedding veil is the “plain square of blond after all”. Like the contemporary woman, she does not see herself as an ornament to be admired by men merely for her looks as she speaks about getting ready… “this I quickly was; my best dress was spoon put on; my hair was soon smoothed; my sole ornament, the pearl brooch, soon assumed, we descended.”

Elizabeth Rigby in December 1948, reviewed “Jane Eyre” and was particularly harsh on Jane’s character. A quote from her review – “She (Jane) has inherited in fullest measure the worst sin of our fallen nature – the sin of pride.” Do we see pride – a characteristic of the contemporary woman in Jane? We do. “If Miss Ingram had been a good and noble woman, endowed with force, fervor, kindness, sense … I should have admired her – acknowledged her excellence, and been quiet for the rest of my days”. But we do not see jealousy in Jane. “But I was not jealous … she was too inferior to excite that feeling”.

As a counterpart of the contemporary woman, Jane Eyre is sensitive to anything that would degrade her. She is glad to get Rochester out of her silk warehouse and then out of the jeweller’s shop, as the more he buys her, the more her cheeks burn with “a sense if degradation”. At Whitecross (before she encounters the Rivers family) she says “the moral degradation blent with physical suffering.” At Morton she says “I felt desolate to a degree. I felt – yes, idiot that I am, I felt degraded”.

Jane Eyre as discussed earlier sees herself as being equal with men – another feature in her character that makes her a counterpart of the contemporary woman. “… I sat at the feet of a man erring as I. I was with an equal – one with whom I might argue – one whom if I saw good, I might resist.” This was truly revolutionary in the Victorian era as women were by no means expected to seek equality with men. “It is my spirit that addresses your spirit” she tells Rochester, “just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God’s feet. Equal as we are”.

And yet Jane displays a character more beautiful perhaps than that of a contemporary woman who may lose her submissive nature completely in her quest to gain equality with men. She is calm. “You don’t turn sick at the sight of blood?” “I think I shall not; I have never been tried yet.” With all her pride and dignity she tells herself “I must keep to my post … I must dip my hands again and again in the basin of blood and water … I must see the light of the unsnuffed candle wane on my employment” as she tends to Mason. She is obedient. “I did not wait to be ordered back to mine but retrieved unnoticed as I had left” (while the others had to be coaxed to return to their dormirotires) She is not cunning. “but mother, I did not come to hear Mr. Rochester’s fortune/ I came to hear my own,” for she is not an opportunist. She loves Rochester but like the contemporary women, won’t compromise. “Then you will not yield?” “No”.

I agree that Jane Eyre is a counterpart of the contemporary woman (Yet maybe the contemporary woman has much to learn from her) The contemporary women may or may not lack the qualities of loyalty “shake me off, then sir – push me away, for I’ll not leave you of my own accord” and duty “summoning Mary, I had the room in a more cheerful order)”. Jane despite her independent spirit (unlike maybe some contemporary women), sees no degradation in serving her husband as a helpmate. “No woman was ever nearer to her mate than I am. To be together is for us to be at once free as in solitude as gay as in company.”

“You admire Jane – love her – for the strong will, honest mind, loving heart and peculiar but fascinating person” – G.H. Lewes (1847)

Jane Eyre therefore is a counterpart of the contemporary woman, an excellent example of a faithful, loving woman who challenges and yet is everything to the man she loves.

“Unless you object, I will be your neighbour, your nurse, your housekeeper… your companion – to read to you, to walk with you, to sit with you, to wait on you, to be eyes and hands to you … you shall not be left desolate, so long as I live”.

“Unjust, unjust is the burden of every reflection upon the things and powers that be” – an unsigned review in the “Christian Remembrancer” (April 1848)

“We venture to assert that neither conventionally nor absolutely is Jane vulgar and we go as far as to say that with her organization, mental and physical, it was scarcely possible that she should be so” – James Lorrimer (August 1849)

The critics view Jane as a woman who reflects an injustice and reacts accordingly and yet is incapable of being crude and “vulgar”.

Every page of “Jane Eyre” enables us to get more and more familiar with the workings of the vigorous, moral, healthy spirit of a 19th Century Victorian woman. Determined and courageous, Jane Eyre is indeed a woman who mirrors the contemporary woman with her fresh outlook towards life.

“But what I shall never cease to praise is the vigorous, healthy, moral spirit that informs every page of Jane Eyre” - Eugene Forcade (Oct 1848)

The fervour, the bitterness, the boredom, the honesty, the confidence, the loyalty and resoluteness of Jane Eyre – are they not feelings, emotions and a part of the character of the woman today?

© Slow Chills

Wordsworth

The two Wordsworth poems “I wandered lonely” and “The solitary reaper” compliment each other in many, many ways. Primarily, I feel that the experience of the poet – the shared relating of a simple event having a profound impact on the author (Wordsworth)long after the moment of experience has passed, is the binding factor behind the fact that both poems do indeed share a common theme.

It is this theme that summarizes the wealth of the simple incidents – one being that of seeing a crowd of daffodils (“all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils) and beholding (“her single in the filed, yon solitary highland lass!) a solitary reaper – that makes up the contents of both poems and this is what makes one compliment the other. Both poems take the reader through the experience with the author in a similar manner which accounts for “the solitary reaper” sharing a similar poetic structure with “I wanted lonely as a cloud”. While both poems are composed of 4 stanzas, both poems consists of a description of the event – a visual description of the daffodils, the auditory impact of the melancholy strains, a person expression of the impact made on the author that comes through which his reflection on the beauty of both events, and the profoundness of the magnifying feeling both these simple experiences have had on Wordsworth.

The importance of the cloud comparison in line 1, lies in the fact that the speaker’s’ lack of purpose and feeling of empty, meaningless wandering that floating feeling being his mood, helps the reader to grasp the value then, that the experience that followed would have had on this “lonely” man who later remarks “a poet could not but be gay, in such a jocund company” (this is complemented by a similar enhancing of mood in “The solitary reaper” (line 13) – “a voice so thrilling ne’er was heard” or line 9 – “no nightingale did ever chant more welcome notes to weary bands”). Had the poet been in a different mood, the experience would hardly have had the value the scene had to the lonely poet who could not but help gazing – “I gazed – and gazed” at the ten thousand daffodils as they tossed their heads in sprightly dance. This is echoed in “The solitary reaper” – “I listened motionless and still”. Indeed both poems share this characteristic of depicting simple events that have made the author pause – stop and gaze, motionless and still. The suggestion that the daffodils accept the speaker as a companion is successfully dramatized as the golden daffodils are described through imagery as personifications of almost human companionship – as jolly company that makes I almost impossible for the poet to remain in his previous lonely mood that disappears as early as the first two lines of the poem.

If we were to look at “The solitary reaper”, omitting the second stanza would make the poem lose its vitality in expressing the sweetness of the strains of the maiden's song.The poet would miss the relating of the capacity this tune had in welcoming weary travelers with its notes, of thrilling, of breaking the “silence of the seas” (which again makes this poem complement the quiet loneliness” of the poet in Daffodils.) The girl-bird comparison and the resemblance of the bird’s song with the girl’s song which makes the special quality and significance of the tune for travelers who overhear it make it go beyond merely suggesting that the girl’s song is beautiful, can be sensed by the reader, as the nightingale, the cuckoo-bird continue to sing, regardless of what happens around, yet the context in which this singing occurs makes the event have an enchanting, influencing effect on the “poorer” recipients as beholders feel an sense of elevation and upliftment.

Both these poems are personal, beautiful narrations of two different, simple experiences in nature that are so successful in complementing one another and at the same time, making the reader deeply aware of the profoundness of experience on Wordsworth. This justifies how believable is, that the poet remembers the event long after its over when in pensive and vacant mood even thereafter, they still flash upon the inward eye and make Wordsworth’s heart fill up with pleasure.

This is beautifully and greatly complemented by “The solitary reaper”

“And, as I mounted up the hill
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more”

William Wordsworth’s two poems are beautiful relations of the simplest events, that continue to bring him joy, health, healing. And happiness long after the moment has passed.

© Slow Chills

A fisherman mourned

Patrick Fernando’s two best known poems have love as their theme - the love between man and woman. Both poems contain themes of love, related through a strong deciphering, reflective analysis of the nature of what relationship each pair of man and woman shared. However the two pieces differ in many aspects, the central matter being the difference in feeling, emotion and very nature of relationship each had, along with the attitude of the narrator or speaker of these lines.

The artistry of the poet in handling the themes of love in two contrasting ways, is evident in the manner in which “A fisherman mourned” and “Folly and wisdom” differ form the other. The very titles are indicative if the difference in the very nature of the two pieces. One is about the relationship that existed between “A fisherman mourned” which is almost as a title had been given to a story, while the other is about two contrasting nouns that involve a more abstract; contrasting feel to the poem that follows in the same direction – “Folly and wisdom”. “A fisherman mourned” consists of 5 stanzas and is a first per son account by a “grieving “ wife to her dead husband at whom monologue is directed, while “Folly and wisdom” is a 3rd person narration by the author who seems to have a deep feeling for what happened, within the context of the relationship between the young woman and man.

“A fisherman mourned” contains a more mature theme of a love grown cold, embittered, between a man and woman who seem to have married not for love’s reason, even because of loneliness but because of “elder’s persuasion”. In contrast, the couple in “Folly and wisdom”, seem to have rushed into the relationship against the wiser jurisdiction of wiser men who are crazily disrobed as they observe, the small minded, sweet girl being taken at first sighting. (“he tool her at a moment’s glance, on first hearing her word” by a man who knew better, yet carried on with her ever as the poet in his artistry, likens them to hopping, winking sparrows who are yet to experience what is before them, as bitterness is still a blur. The use of the metaphor of “exalted eagles” who childe the sparrow birds, is extremely effective in portraying the elders around this young couple who know better, are “greater birds” for their experience and WISDOM who perceive the FOLLY of their hasty decision to join together and who seem to know what possibilities lay in stor tfor them for whom years had not yet “lent them learning”. The cleverness of the poet in enabling is to perceive the realization that the man is yet to gently, too young to “observe that he has erred”, almost makes it definite that the union of this man woman, has been foolish, ill-advised and is heading for some kind of doom. However the couple in their ignorance of experience, also seem to be certain of their decision as they happily chirp “but how could we have erred, we who in spite of all you say are not yet embittered?”

The poet is successful in cleverly enabling the reader to not only understand that the elders are right as they have been through the experience of years and times, but in also proving the point that while bitterness has yet not touched them, they are valid in staying true to their own notion that they are happy and will be happy in the current state of her still sounding as sweet as honey to the man.

This contrasts heavily on the other hand, with the bitterness, regret, realization and confession (“now that being dead you are beyond detection, and I need not be discreet” ) of a woman who has borne children, existed in a relationship with the now dead fisherman husband that in contrast, was encouraged by elders. The two poems without direct comment, make the reader realize the infallibility of the wisdom of elders in advising against/on the other hand, promoting relationships, between man and woman and the artistry of Patrick Fernando in enabling us to experience the deeper conflicts of relationship and the experience of the woman who was in this relationship with a man who are first seemed unembittered, yet ended nothing more than someone “practical”, a husband/father who she has to mourn, makes the theme of a relationship between man and woman a complex one.

The manner in which time passes and e vents unfold, is narrated through typical fishermen imagery. The beauty in the frequent use of gulls – “chaste as a gull flying pointed home” and again “when gulls returned new-plumed and wild” is part of this artistry. “Folly and wisdom” in contrast, is yet to experience the passing of time. Yet early in experience. We neither know the lifestyle of the man and woman concerned, nor see the deeper conflicts of experience as we do in “A fisherman mourned”. It is almost left to be seen whether a follow up poem by the young simple girl in “Folly and wisdom” later in life, would confirm or dispel the fear of the “exalted eagles”.

“A fisherman mourned” is one told at the end of life experience while “folly and wisdom” contains a man and woman yet on the brink of experience who are yet to feel the “guilt”. The “repent or rejoice” dilemma of a man or the bitter reflection on a relationship ended by “death”, by a woman who has lived to bear children and now stands facing the event of realization of “death” that has touched their relationship and caused her to look back.

© Slow Chills

The Path

“Dead Men’s Paths” – the purposeful slighting of a serious title, struck me as an indication of what the short story stood for – a young couple’s insensitivity to the context, promotion and opportunity to succeed as prematurely gifted by the Mission Authorities placed them in the short sightedness of an energetic headmaster (Ob) and the consequent downfall of a man whose end is almost tragic when compared with the hopes, dreams and ambitions the reader finds him basking in at the beginning of this powerful short story. A story about a man (and wife) who slighted what appeared to be serious, important and sacred to the villagers of the school he took over and the grace consequences and sudden ruins of Michael Obi’s work.

The main characters are Obi, his wife, a teacher (with 3 years experience), an old woman Ani (the village priest) and thereafter the diviner who diagnosed the root of the setting in of evil which leads to the revered (in Obi’s eyes) White Supervisor who stands as the Government Education Officer, The characters represent actors from different social backgrounds, who have their own starts. The short story’s clever depiction of the squinted manner in which one status looks at the other for example – that of the villagers with their own cultures and customs is less important to Obi who similarly in the eyes of Ani, is headmaster but of less significance when compared with the “fathers” whose practices MUST be flowed and so on, makes “Dead Men’s Path” a statement on society and an example of disaster that befalls people who fail to respect diversity, Obi shows scant respect fir Ani’s dead ancestors by saying “I don’t suppose the ancestors will find the little detour too burdensome”. This is further re-instated when the diviner states that ancestors were indeed “insulted by the fence”.

The failure of Obi to be open to compromise, co-existence by allowing the hawk AND the eagle perch together and his immediate dismissal of Ani’s appeal by assuming that dead men “do not require footpaths” – an ideology that contradicted what was held sacred to the culture of the villagers, makes this story applicable to modern Sri Lanka and any country in the world today as it seems to have in it ,a theme of cultures, times (modern vs old) clashing because of a lack of understanding, respect and tolerance. Obi did not learn from past experience. He knew that a big row had erupted some time ago – he was not without access to history by way of example – the teacher who attempted to relate the story to him, who emphasized that the path “appears to be very important to them”. Again, this makes the story applicable to societies who fail to learn from past mistakes, lessons in history repeating themselves because of Obi-like attitudes – “our duty is to teach your children to laugh at such ideas”

The garden – a symbol of artificiality to me, the path, connecting village legend and history to the life blood of the children of the school, the fence – forced, blind separation by an impulsive young man who stood opposed to the wisdom of the walking stick of Ani who could not “tap” enough to make the young headmaster understand.

The story is located in a village. There are while men, there are tribal village children. The manner in which understanding failed as a result of the immaturity of the young headmaster whose arrogance is evident in his outspokenness at the beginning as he converses with his wife, is what comes out strongly in the opening paragraphs of the story. We see Nancy Obi as having narrow, almost selfish, shallow ambitions of her own, an uppishness (as she looks down on traders in the Onitsha market) ad a naïve foolishness in her dialogue as we see glimpses into the immaturity of the young couple on whom responsibility has fallen too early – a couple seemingly ill prepared, despite their own confidence and elevated sense of confidence. Achebe beings this out well as he never comments, yet makes the conversation between husband and wife, give us insights into the shallow values the couple share.

Obi “admires” his work. He is “scandalized” by what has been a daily occurrence to the old villagers who have used the path. The imagery of the “beautiful hisbiscus and aldamanda hedges” seem to stand for the artificiality of what is important to the Ovis as it “marks” the school compound form the “rank neighborhood bushes”

The end is sudden. The shot story ends almost abruptly and the sudden change is powerful and impacted me as I read it as the school buildings being “pulled down” almost symbolize the rejection of all Obi to be right and to work. The “carefully tended school compound” being “torn up not just near the path but right round the school, the flowers trampled to death” said much more than paragraphs could have explicitly explained the tragic end to the headmaster whose end is evident with the white supervisor who stands as commentator to the fact that it all arose in part form the “misguided zeal” of the new headmaster.

Obi meant well when he offered to even “get his boys” to help in building an alternate path. Achebe is fair to his characters, thus making this story a realistic portrayal of man and good intentions which were not good enough and eventually lead to the career-wise “death” of a headmaster’s path as well.

I personally found this to be a powerful short story applicable to life because of its portrayal of realistic groups of people in a setting of varying cultures, customs, attitudes ad personal egos.

© Slow Chills

Village in the Jungle

The story of "Village in the Jungle" by Leonard Wolf takes a poignant turn in the events that unfold in the court room scene in pages 121 to 124 and the significance of the scenes whilst being relevant to the plot of the story reaching a climax, (as the tragic element of the sentencing of innocent Babun which ultimately drives Silindu to murder lies heavily in this scene) goes deeper into many other aspects of recent Ceylon history that are reflected naturally and vividly through the entire process of the court room scene.

Portraying village life in Ceylon during Colonial times, the thoughts that surfaced in my mind about the significance of the scenes, were mostly to do with the realization of a justice system that seemed to be very much in tact as meted by the British rulers of the “judge” here who commanded the respect of the locals as “no one else moved, the only sound in the world seemed to be the scratching of the pen on paper”. Indeed this took me back to history in Ceylon when the British ruled while the locals for the most part, experienced righteous hearings on domestic issues that cropped up amongst themselves.

The feelings of fear, the “curious look of pain and distress” in Babun made me think on the issues of the innocent accused, the internal, conflicts between the villagers or local people at that time in history being such that injustice, lying, cheating and false accusations, quarrels etc, in which “evidence was untrustworthy: highlights the fact that such inequalities and threats to fair play based on local monopoly and squabbles (Fernando vs. Babun) undermines as it were even the efforts of the Judge or white ruler, to seek out the truth even when the complainant impressed the righteous judicial system “most unfavourably”; thus leaving even a justice system that was intact, no choice but to accept that the lack of corroborating evidence against the actual wrong doers, means helplessness of a system “I am sorry”.

The manner in which the fleeting hearing, the consequent leaving of court but the judge and the sad manner in which Silindu is driven to work within his madness to bring about justice by taking matters into his own hands also I felt, to be significant in its powerful unspoken relating of a fact that human desperation and frustration is vented when the “old buffalo: who is cunning still, has no choice but to charge, when cornered and hunted down. Babun was innocent and he “sighed and looked quickly from side to side like a hunted animal”. The eyes of the judge frightened him. Could this be an emphasis on the fact that fear was driven into the innocent who had a fair hearing and should have felt vindicated had it not have been his inner realization that corruption would win at the end of the day? Village life and the corrupt dealings among its local inhabitants, the inequalities that existed among Ceylonese because of greed for each other’s land, for possession of for example the wife (punchi manike) of a helpless man over whom the offender has some authority by reason of a system of control which existed, further makes this courtroom scene a significance tone as it portrays the underlying social system of the villages of that day.

The strategy that the “mad” Silindy who takes the place of that “hunted” son-in-law as it were, in executing justice, is described powerfully through the lines Silindu mutters to himself, that no one save Silindu (and the reader) are privy to knowing/hearing. Again the deeper significance of family, poor, innocent and accused, the depths of bonds of family and feeling for the other among the simple local village folk, is depicted in these scenes, not merely though Silindu’s move into action that follows, but through the helpless cry of Babun “there is the woman hamuduro what will becomes of her?”. Thus the scenes are further significant in giving us an insight into feelings for family among the villagers of that time, their helplessness, their dependency and the patriarchal system that existed.

The respect (hamuduro), the authority (silence), the colonial situation (interpreter) and every other aspect of colonial times is packed into these few pages of the court room scene and I personally felt that Wolf did a superb job in portraying events, struggles, systems and situations within local Ceylonese village life most effectively and naturally … thus these 4 pages were packed with meaning I felt, that was relevant to life in Ceylon – like in the “Village in the jungle”.

© Slow Chills

Too detrimental

There is a dilemma of contradiction in my soul. I wonder what I deservedly ought to embrace at this point in my life? On the one hand is a man whose been through the drill and has taken liberties to consider me to be this girl whose kind heart he takes for granted.

And then on the other is this better brought up guy who is mannered, naturally God-loving and exceptionally nice to me, being a blessing to me by contributing to the growth of my own soul by sending me such inspiring and beautiful messages and showering love and genuine concern into my soul.

Most of the time, I find myself enjoying the company of the former, especially when he's good to me and makes me feel special and loved through everything he says and does. But at the same time, I have grown deeply aware of how easily he can drill a hole in my heart by stubbornly and carelessly, nonchalantly and deliberately making changes into my well being and consciousness of God by de-barring me from blossoming as a beautiful woman of God. And the growth is something that I truly need in my life.

The condemnation and self-depreciation that I go through because of him is something that I have thankfully kept to myself and not shared with him, as I am only too well aware that to do that would be to accept that he occupies a central place in my life.

It's up to me now to take hold of what I personally hold dear in my life and take a stand. I am a godly, holy saint and I will never be able to get away from that because that is God's calling into my life.

Anything then that takes me away from that, is something I need to get rid of.

The time has come. I am ready to say goodbye to the relationships that have taken me down and to give myself room to be proud of the person - the woman that I am called to be.

I'm letting him go.

Second and third time around

“That which does not kill us only makes us stronger” - Friedrich Nietzsche

Genesis

"Genesis" proves to be a text that provides a basic background to view the many possible explanations on how the world began, the origin of all things created; possible insights into an unknown area of knowledge which is important to man as man is always interested in knowing plausible alternatives from which to choose from in his quest to understand the concepts of creation, God, evil etc. As a Classical Narrative, Genesis succeeds in providing the reader with one such explanation, to the origin of earth, man and consequent civilization in itself, with an introduction to the person of God whose “power” was moving over the water “in the beginning”.

The text as the name “Genesis” in itself implies “origin”, refers to the beginning of creation in itself, with a poetic description of the very beginning of how the rain, the sea, the sky, the land, plants, creatures both on land and water as well as in the air and finally man and woman, came into existence. A reader would be familiar with all that is, but everyday occurrence in his environment and would find even the creation of man from the soil of the earth, one out of many mythical explanations that form possible world views on creation. However, the text grapples with more philosophical issues with the introduction of the sections in Chapters 2 and 3, as it plunges deeper into issues on disobedience, sin, suffering, consequences of actions and the concepts of good and evil with the story of the snake who tempts the woman to disobey God’s instructions in Chapter 1, and succeeds

Thus Genesis is as a Classical Narrative, intriguing in its description of the story of mankind and his inevitable fall as detailed in its story, for a reading of the text causes the reader to see to understand, interpret and make sense of the deeper meaning to the narrative, as it deals with a topic that is neither alien to man (as it deals with questions to do with the origin of man) nor easiest to understand at first reading which itself makes the text a valuable narrative as it leaves things “open” to the reader who is challenged to look into the deeper meanings of the text because of the poetic nature of narration. For example – whether or not the trees actually existed in order to make the fall occur etc is never explained. The text is direct and tells the story simply, without a view or interpretation included in the writing, which helps the reader to enjoy “Genesis” all the more, because of its ambiguity.

The possible reason behind the labour pain/pregnancy pains women face when giving birth, man having to work for a living in order to survive (physically when he toils the land) and all the more unpleasant facets to human existence being accounted as arising from the consequences of disobedience further help make “Genesis” a text that explain.

“The Origin” is what this Classical Narrative is essentially about.

© Slow Chills

Kril Allen wins Season 8!

When my best friend send me a short message system message stating that “Kris Allen has won American Idol” I felt a humble, deep, personal sense of worth, happiness and elation that a contestant who was less flamboyant than his counterpart - the dark nailed highly talented Adam Lambert, could have won the ultimate crowning glory of television’s most widely watched reality show.

There must be something in us that makes us relate to the common man – the simple boy-next-door – the dark horse! For the very essence of being human and being simple has something endearing about it for me and I felt as though Kris Allen winning was a personal victory for me because in many respects I’m a Kris Allen in my own right!

I have no great talent and I am definitely not one to hold the spotlight for longer than a few seconds at the most. The sincerity that runs through my vein is characterized by a deeply engrained kindness that makes me unassuming to the very core of my being.

Adam Lambert on the other hand, has a more commandeering stage presence and it’s almost impossible to forget his performances because he comes in with the spotlight and goes off with a bang. His amazing vocal range and the manner in which he looks you straight in your eye whilst singing makes him a complete contrast to Allen who looks away and tilts his chin as he sings with all he’s got. Allen is the hard worker and Lambert is the one who makes singing as easy as his a-b-cs. Adam’s phenomenal strength makes him a force to reckon with while all Kris does is to come in and sing with all he’s got. His heart is in his music and he has no other charisma.

Adam Lambert is the man of the moment. He has everyone looking his way. He is able to make almost every song he sings reek of energy and superlative talent. Kris Allen is the ordinary everyday guy who picks up his guitar and sings the best he can until the very veins pop out of his neck and you cannot help but look his way because the sincerity in his performance is hard to neglect. He looks down in humble amazement whenever he is commended and is in sharp contrast to Adam who confidently says in a mannered tone, “thank you Paula”

All in all, the Kris Allen upset-victory is something that brought immense joy into my life and I have a feeling this enthusiasm and happiness is going to last me a very long time!

Having followed Idol for more than four or five out of its eight seasons now, this has got to be my most favourite (and indeed) resounding victory so far. This has definitely got to be the American Idol that I heartily embrace, the most.