Yeah...a small prelude: Sartre is this simple soul (no wait, he was a simple soul until he came up with Existantialism) who gets the credit for questioning the meaning of life. One individual who declares life as incredibly dull and monotonous, and every effort you take to make it interesting is nothing but a facade, a distraction, a desperate attempt to ward off boredom...and so, is not worth living.
Can't blame the guy. Cinema, Rowan Atkinson and J.K Rowling have not yet come into the scene.
Everybody got excited about the idea of Existentialism...because of the series of lectures that we had. I, however, am very much in touch with the concept. I wake up each day exactly at 6.45 when my alarm clock goes off. A punch from me and the ringing stops. Then gets re-awaken when one of my parents call, only to re-drool on my pillow the next minute. Somehow, the notion of college seems to be eternally pasted on my brain, and as the time approaches 7.30, a voice would start calling out from within...telling me to get my ass off the bed. So I do.
Then, my daily cup of tea. Twinings, Assam Tea. Always. I'm not a big fan, it's just that this is the cheapest. Having had efficiency in home economics drilled into me for a good eighteen years (three cheers to Mam), at least, I couldn't resist.
Then. My daily auto. Same guy. Every time. College. Same college. People. Same people.
How does that fail existantialism?
A classroom scenario that allowed me a genial laugh:
Lecturer: ...now, (the character in Sartre's novel) seated himself on one of the seats in the bus. This is a plush red seat. The minute he was seated...well...he looks at his seat and torrents of ideas start coming to him. He concludes things from looking at the seat, and...suddenly, he was afraid. He was so afraid that he ran, jumped off the bus, and headed straight to the park. There he threw himself on the park bench, and -
G 1: And he got scared of the bench too and ran away somewhere else? (giggles)
L:(serious) Umm...no. He was frightened by the sight of the chestnut roots that were visible under the bench.
me: ...
Ta ta!
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4 comments:
Ok finally something :-)
I am a big fan of Sartre and frence writers like Camus and Hugo. Russian authors too. Loved Iron in the Soul. Except that Mathieu dies. Ofcourse I read it for pleasure, know nothing about existentialism and deeper, hidden meanings.
I wrote a bit of poetry (a poem called Tides of Her). I am such a prosaic person by nature, I think my poetry skills are really primitive if not neanderthal. But still I am anxious to know what you think about it. Feedback please.
Finally something? My life is really uneventful, huh? Am in college right now...will check on the neanderthal poem...:)
Saw the tree though. Where is it anyway?
I am sure your life is very eventful. Just that you haven't been documenting it as much ;-)
I thought the maple tree thing gave it away. Its this place called Collingwood, north of Toronto. To the world it is famous as blue mountain. It is wonderful for skiing in winter. Abutting Collingwood is lake Ontario which is as big as the sea. Infact the beach is pretty close by to where the pic was taken and is called the Wasaga beach. I loved swimming there as the water is not salty!Have you ever been there?
I was there in July.
Hhh...nope, never been there. Do you know that you should pray three times a day when blessed with such luck?
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