The World and the Word

IN fact, we live in garrulous times.

- Geetanjali Shree

That is not about talking as in conversations. It is loud, aggressive verbal noise to shout the other down. Jabber jabber, noise noise, deaf deaf. And that makes Literature in these times even more crucial, even if devalued by too many. It is a retreat, not as in running away, but as in being the space for silences that pick up the echoes and murmurs of quashed voices. A retreat not from the battlefield as it were, but one where the forgotten or sidelined voices can be restored and preserved. So that no one may forget that there is another narrative, there are other stories, there is another way of being, seeing, and loving, another worldview. A retreat where the writer continues a reflection, a dialogue, in quiet meditative focusing.

Easier said than done! In times so intrusive, where the distance between the public and the private is so narrow, the solitude a writer longs for to meditate and reflect is hard to find. But found it must be. I am here reminded of Arpita Singh's paintings where gun-toting soldiers are rushing in full force on all sides and in their midst sits the yogi, in padmasan and dhyan. They storm forth in agitated action, the yogi meditates in calm repose, eyes closed. The eyes look closed. In fact, they open not just outwards but also inwards and in so doing take what is happening around into the inner space of reflection and re-looking. Troubled but unpanicked.

Slowness is important in literature. Stillness is its motor. Stare deep into the abyss, intent, meditative, and wait. For it will stir, the darkness will slowly part. The cauldron will send forth steam and furls which will wind their way up to the blank page and stories will find creative concretisation. Like revelations.

So I had stared at the old woman's back when she lay tired and done-with-the-world and she moved into