Tuesday, February 08, 2005

What kind of life do words lead? On the continuum from power to impotence, where would I place what? The continuum itself is such a paradox. Power as the right to kill and impotence as the inability to create. Between the two, the world stands annihilated. Armageddon this and paper soldiers these.

Amma goes to the temple, so does thatha. And thatha is a story-teller, an inhabitor of other worlds. Krishna and Radha and Nachiketa. Amma lives in hope, of this world and its possibilities. Amma is thatha's daughter. She was born of him and he calls to her sometimes. And their worlds manage to meet. Thatha lives in a village, amma in a town. Amma talks about the village and her sisters and her friends and her bicycle. It is a pretty world and a world, unchanging in pace, colour and significance. A crutch, a stick, a cause and a memory. Faint memories growing stronger everyday.It makes her smile and it makes her talk. It gives her words beauty and her life immortality. Nostalgia is definitely not so easily derided.

And worlds have been left behind and new worlds call. And the possibilities of the latter and the losses of the former make for an uneasy supper. Hope is good, so is memory and so is strength. Words, words, words...stories and tales and truth and lie.Ether and camphor, love and loss, sight and smell.