Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Life in Constant Motion

Reality either takes an eternity or an instant to manifest. It takes about 60 years of living for one to feel aging in all its glory. At 20, one's sure he/ she will only eventually get there. Fundamentally, death is always instant. Passing from living to dead takes an infinitesimally small period of time. The many or few days leading up to it produce an illusion of it being drawn out. Relatively, life is infinitely long. Enough Bullshit.

I have a bone to pick with every person who expects writers to pack ten lifetimes' worth incidents in a single novel. Thriller trilogies sometimes make me feel sorry for the writer for having subjected himself to writing a super-fast version of life not once but three times. Mystery is about the only genre of fiction that can enamor a child so as to make him read books for life. No kid wants to read what a man stuck in a snowed-down Turkish town has to say (Snow by Pamuk). However, some times people tend to fall more in love with the concept of thrill and mystery than with the written word. One cannot expect for a million things to happen in a book which has its focus on emotion or philosophy. In my opinion, it's about the same as expecting a car to fly off the stage and onto the audience in a theater showing a musical.

Anyone who's watched more than 2 episodes of an Indian soap opera will agree that life in these serials is super-slow. As if the dialogue delivery isn't slow and labored enough, lines that the director thinks are terribly important are repeated in a loop, much like an echo. Enough digression.

One should open a book with an open mind. Some people would prefer to witness quarter of a lifetime in it and some would prefer twenty-five.It's apples and oranges. Don't shun the apple because it's not a orange.

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