Of plays and opinionated ways

Today was good day. I did the test at time teeerriibbly, but then I came back and slept a dreamless sleep, and then went out in the evening, and didn't grouch even once! Well, only once. :P I honestly did not mean three consecutive posts to revolve around memories, but I'm afraid this one is going to be a lil about them because that is what the theme of a play we went to this evening was about. It's called 'The Blue Mug' and I'm guessing it was about how most of one's adult life is spent remeniscing- old memories and not-so-old memories falling over one another, blending, merging, some sharper than others, some sweeter, some more stinging, most that define the person one is, and the reasons why one is that person. There were a few lacunae, but I am willing to forgive them simply for the superb acting by most of the actors. It had the improvised, natural feel that most matured directors and actors bring to theatre. The play was followed by some mediocre jazz, but all in all, quite an enjoyable evening it was.

There were these moments during the play when I was transported into some time in the future, maybe about 20 years from now, when I'd look back and have similar memories, which by the way, were entirely believable ones. And in those moments, I depserately wanted them to make me feel proud. Dad said to me a few days back, "You might think that you are likely to look back at very little in your life right now in the far future and that your life now is not going to be memorable later; the fact is that every little that that you felt an emotional connection with, every thing that you identified with, you will remember. Things that meant anger, love, hate, dislike, despair, relief, gladness... they will all stay. Things that people have done to you, for you, with you.. will come back to you unbidden in the future. The human mind has a way of connecting things.. your whole life contributes to that web of connections, and once something adds itself to the mesh, it doesn't very easily break itself away."

So I guess memories are quintenssential to emotional health. I always have this dread that if I attach too much importance to them I will become this sentimental, bumbling fool. But then if rationality is a struggle, it can't be what is meant to be. If being natural is what comes easiest, then applying the principle of Occam's Razor, that is probably what I should be doing. Not fighting instincts that some Freud in my head waggles his index finger at and dissects and says that they are but weakness. The problem is I'm not clear on what is artificial and what is natural. Yet. I don't know whether the rationality that I strive to achieve, which is definitely a good idea in some situations, is just naivety as far as emotions are concerned. Maybe memories are there because they aren't meant to be fought. Or come to terms with. Or anything. Maybe they're just there. And as my Dad said, to hark back to and ponder about or feel nice later. I mused that it would be nice if we could only keep the nice ones and reject the bad ones. He gave me the priceless advice of trying to do just that. But he also said very sagely that bad memories would stay no matter what- what mattered was whether you used them to be positive, or to regret the past.

Some books I want to get my hands on asap - Sweet Thursday by Steinbeck, and Old man and the Sea, which I read when I was 14, and would like very much to read again. Once the seven of us were sitting around at the pseudo-canteen, and the conversation came around to that masterpiece of contemporary fantasy writing, Harry Potter. Rowling has done a great job, agreed, and I was a little hasty is saying that it will never be considered great writing. It might- I cannot predict whether and how it will be remebered in the future. But I still maintain that writing must influence you somehow.. in lasting and poignant way. You must be able to identify with it in such a way that ten years later, you still remember the effect it had on you vividly. Whether it is fiction, or fantasy, or philosophy or romance.. there has to be a certain timelessless, even if it is only in your head and nobody else agrees with you. I did an awful job of putting my poitn through that time. Now I see that what came through was- 'Harry Potter??! Great writing??! Those are books that are read and forgotten, they result in children not reading so many lovely books that they could, it is all hype about a book that draws from a hundred similar books written in the past, which introduces no new ideas about human or the rest of the universe that you can carry forward with you, none of the characteristics that make you think yes, this book is going to last generations'

I met with vociferous opposition on the lines that why did good writing have to be about 'fundae'? Why can't they just entertain for the moment, do it brilliantly and, forgive the pun, end-of-story? Why should children read stuff that they will remember 25 years later? Well, they don't. As long as something like that gets them started, good. But that is not enough to make it great writing. Has Tom and Jerry lost its charm over the decades? That is because it doesn't appeal to generations, it appeals to humanity. As does all humour, but how you do it and what it targets in its audience is what makes some art and literature better than the rest. Why write unless you can influence someone to think? It need not be even close to what you think. But why write if all that you get across is words and pictures? If one idea from your book doesn't stay with your reader for longer than a month or two? Ability is being able to get into someone's head, greatness lies in staying there. Why I would remember some books and their characters even when I am 50, whether they were light, humourous novels like P.G. Wodehouse, or cerebrum-piercing statements on life and society like Zen, The Little Prince, Metamorphosis- is because at some level they all contributed to forming the person I am. Expressions, ideas, opinions- they haven't just flown away the moment I closed the last page. Why did people like Ernest Hemingway win the Nobel Prize? Because they looked at life just a tad differently, and tried to portray the picture in their mind in a novel way which was bound to give you a new perspective on things you probably already had an opinion on. How is it that Shakespeare's plays have survived the centuries and can still be abridged and read by a high school student today? Agreed, they weren't written with the glowing promise of immortality, but the only reason they survived the test of time is that they appeal to generation after generation, in much the same way. I don't know whether Harry Potter will be able to achieve that.. if it turns out that he has, I shall eat humble pie. But to know, we will have to wait a 100 years.

I used to flatter myself that I would make a rather good shrink slash psychologist because all I'd have to do is concoct a most believable story about how the mind works and convince my audience that I'm talking sense. Any insightful, articulate person can become a psychologist- the idea of doing courses and stuff on it is absurd. Is that because most people aren't insightful or articulate? :s Anyway, in spite of the immodest knowledge that I'm rather good at both those things, now I think I'd drive myself up the wall unconsciously piecing apart and putting together every darned thing everyone ever said. Imagine talking to someone and all the time thinking about why he said what he said and what it could mean. I do that now anyway, except then I'd be professionally qualified to do it. It is instinctive I think, and it surprises me to no end when people tell me they aren't so obsessed with 'knowing'. It isnt about knowing.. isn't it only the first reaction that your brain has, when someone says or does something? Why would he say or do that? What is the underlying idea behind it. I'm not talking about I need a pizza right now => He is hungry kinda thing. A lil more below the surface than that, so to speak. Still, a shrink would hear all these guzillion problems everyone has, and know how their minds work and every situation in her life, all these woudl come floodnig into her brain and drive her insane. Not a happy life. I will become a computer scientist wonly. Or a writer. Or a newsperson. Or a film director. Or a... :D

My heartfelt apologies if the length of the posts causes anyone to scowl at the screen and think bad things about me; what to do, they all come together, and then I shut up for a while. When I feel more altruistic, I will write them down someplace else, and ration them on a daily basis.