Monday, February 13, 2017

Letting go 9: the golden brown grasses

Forest writing its own story as noted in the following conversation

Suman Nath Yes.. those fingers..
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Rutuja Deshmukh It looks like a brown grass hand holding a feather pen... thinking what to write.
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Suman Nath True... wonderful observation...
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Rutuja Deshmukh  thanks for the tag. I probably have too much spare time.
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Suman Nath no you have emotions... 
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Rutuja Deshmukh Suddenly, it started looking so human.
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Suman Nath right you are... it's suddenly demanding a story...
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Rutuja Deshmukh The background grass is looking like happy human figures with their hands in air. Am I smoking something or what..
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Suman Nath no its never the weed or wine... it's all about setting yourself free among the fairies...
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Rutuja Deshmukh True that but something serves as a trigger. Sometimes weed, sometimes discussion, sometimes a book. When I first felt that it looked like a hand holding a feather pen, poised to write something.. the very next instant a thought came to mind that this grass (harvest for humans) may not have very nice things to say about us. And then i thought i should stop thinking.
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Suman Nath why don't we listen to their cry? They might have thousands stories to tell... forests are libraries if you want to read them. I realized recently.
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Rutuja Deshmukh Have u read a book called Animal Farm?
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Suman Nath George Orwell?
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Rutuja Deshmukh Yeah. George Orwell. U read?
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Suman Nath yeah, read it... years ago... and of course liked it, needless to say 
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Rutuja Deshmukh Imagine this is grass Snowball's hand writing commandments for fellow grass community members after successful revolution against humans. Other grass members are cheering him up..
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Suman Nath exactly, I was just thinking that when you mentioned animal farm, but what if the forest is writing its story in its canopy, knowing fully well, no one would ever read them! but its worth of an effort - may be a survival instinct!
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Rutuja Deshmukh What if there exists seeds of revolution in the natural process of evolution.
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Suman Nath yes there are... seeds for revolutions... and it happens more often than we know!
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Rutuja Deshmukh That would be interesting to know. I always felt, nature's favoured method of survival was endurance rather than revolution.
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Suman Nath exactly, might be a long kept secret... we never know, 
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Rutuja Deshmukh Viruses are the only system in the eco system which treats human as shit as humans treat other organisations. Pretty sure some part of nature hails them as heroes.
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Suman Nath Yes, quite likely...
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What happens when you find the forest writing its own story? Well it questions you again and again to reconsider, listen to and understand its existing narratives before it goes back to writing again. Quite something that makes you question the reality itself as it merges itself within the fantasies. A world in which if one wishes to, can live forever. However, roaming around in fantasies does not always depend on your wish! It comes at a cost, often too heavy to bear. Kaleidoscope often wants badly to come out of the fairies to accept and move on with whatever is offered by the world in concrete and clearly noted terms of agreements and references. He repeatedly fails to do so. He fails to comprehend the nature of being, and wishes to dwell on the perception of being in itself. It shapes kaleidoscope in such a way that the perception of nothingness also appears as being (an obvious Sartre's connection, google if you wish to). For example he believes there is a river with him, there is a library in the forest and water flow in the highway, if you try and convince kaleidoscope about the impossibilities he would pity your imagination and shut himself off.


It was just the other day when kaleidoscopic faces the question: 'when do you remember me the most? When you are drunk? Or its just that when you are drunk you need to remember me, search me, or be a loner for me?' - the river asks, forest whispers, and highways portrays! In other words do you really need to get drunk to remember me? Kaleidoscope has more cravings for being engulfed, but he also has an engulfed soul roaming around thirsty!


Kaleidoscope hardly has the answer to those questions. He knows his love for fairy is either too intense that he is always mesmerized, or he is drunk all the time - otherwise how could he always end up submitting himself to the fairies. However, he knows that there is no in between, there cannot be any.  Instead of searching for a reply to these primordial issues of fairy/real, drunken/alert, being a dreamer/awaken, he finds himself at the beginning of another story written by the golden brown grassland.

And it does not matter, because Golden brown grasslands have more stories than kaleidoscope could ever read and memorise. They have more stories than the whole world could even decipher.

The vast warehouse of stories have attracted him during his first meeting with the river Dulung. Yes, the early morning brown series have moved kaleidoscope and pushed him to walk through the fairies while he was supposed to do fieldwork. Instead he was trying to see what stories does the grassland offer! He could not read, neither could he capture them all. But after a couple of years he could only find out the fairy in the making again.












5 comments:

  1. A story within a story and then you are lost among the fairies. Wonderful kaleidoscope. Forest, river and highways are lucky! Do are we.

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  2. You always manage to find more stories than i can ever imagine. I know you burn everyday with those stories... happy writing happy burning kaleidoscope, because i know the price you pay for the river, highway and forest is massive.

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  3. What an wonderful way to begin the story... its innovative, demcratic and excellent

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  4. Remember suman we used to day dream about jungle expedition in our childhood? This is biswajit. I think you are still quite into it. Its lovely reading your stories...

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  5. Enter deep forest kaleidoscope, you would never return. Nice letting go series...

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