It's 6:18 a.m. Sleepless night and probably the best one of my life. Books always have immediate effects on the reader. This effect decays exponentially and hence I decided to put my experience to good use.
Not always I have come across books which have shaken me so much that I have thought of penning down my feelings. Amitav Ghosh does something in The Hungry Tide that any writer would want to achieve.
Reading the book was a journey where I was lost in love, in suffering and sometimes in past where my words only added burden to my ever increasing despair.
Who am I to review a book? This post is only about the questions inside me which have raged a war in order to come out.
What can we wish for when destiny itself conspires? It's like a game of snake and ladders, our life where even though we have the throw but we throw the die. Probability, luck, put sternly destiny.
Love, the reason for coming into being, the reason for existence, is just another throw of die. One never calculates the fractional chances of winning. It is even more dangerous in the sense that it follows the binary logic. 0 or 1.
How many times have I thought that my poems would carry my love where my words couldn't? How much have I liked to think of myself as an "intellectual"?
Therein lies the fault, the defeat,the failure of not being able to show courage!
I have never wanted a revolution but I have always been a dreamer. I dreamt of peace alone, not bothered about the path leading to it. That makes me an incomplete dreamer, I guess.
Looking at the characters, I have never been Fokir. I could have said I never had to but that wouldn't help as at some point I had to row my own boat. I faced tides but never rowed upstream.
Not Nirmal since I never had to lie to myself.
That leaves Kanai. Yes, in many ways I identify with him (May be most people do, not for me to decide).
As I said, destiny decides. I am not trying to escape anything but isn't it destiny that builds our character from the very beginning?
What exactly is then, in our hands?
Not always I have come across books which have shaken me so much that I have thought of penning down my feelings. Amitav Ghosh does something in The Hungry Tide that any writer would want to achieve.
Reading the book was a journey where I was lost in love, in suffering and sometimes in past where my words only added burden to my ever increasing despair.
Who am I to review a book? This post is only about the questions inside me which have raged a war in order to come out.
What can we wish for when destiny itself conspires? It's like a game of snake and ladders, our life where even though we have the throw but we throw the die. Probability, luck, put sternly destiny.
Love, the reason for coming into being, the reason for existence, is just another throw of die. One never calculates the fractional chances of winning. It is even more dangerous in the sense that it follows the binary logic. 0 or 1.
How many times have I thought that my poems would carry my love where my words couldn't? How much have I liked to think of myself as an "intellectual"?
Therein lies the fault, the defeat,the failure of not being able to show courage!
I have never wanted a revolution but I have always been a dreamer. I dreamt of peace alone, not bothered about the path leading to it. That makes me an incomplete dreamer, I guess.
Looking at the characters, I have never been Fokir. I could have said I never had to but that wouldn't help as at some point I had to row my own boat. I faced tides but never rowed upstream.
Not Nirmal since I never had to lie to myself.
That leaves Kanai. Yes, in many ways I identify with him (May be most people do, not for me to decide).
As I said, destiny decides. I am not trying to escape anything but isn't it destiny that builds our character from the very beginning?
What exactly is then, in our hands?
