Sometime in school, I had read the book - Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul. For those who aren't familiar with the "Chicken Soup for ..." series, all books are collections of simple, heartwarming stories to comfort the target audience. In my case, the perennially agitated teenager. One such story came with a lesson that everyone has something to tell us, and perhaps teach us, if only we're willing to listen.
While that is indeed a good piece of advice, it is rather incomplete. It does not teach how to get people to talk so that you can listen to what they might have to say.
And that, has been my affliction in life - not being able to initiate or engage in conversations.
Last week, I finished reading my first Hindi novel - Kasap. By Manohar Shyam Joshi. It's a beautifully written love story set in Kumaun. It can be argued that I liked the story so much because of the Kumauni flavour, or because Manohar Shyam Joshi was a relative. Or maybe because it was my first foray into reading Hindi literature and I don't have anything to compare it to. But then it's not the relation or the setting which makes language beautiful. And really, I find comparison between literature quite futile. Is there any point judging a Catch-22 against say, Train to Pakistan or Midnight's Children?
Coming back to Kasap - it's a genuinely sweet story. The simplicity of characters and situations make it that much more easy to relate to. Even in a state of hysteria. At the end, the story leaves you with a sweet sadness which is strangely satisfying. As if any other outcome would have been a betrayal. And like any other well written work of fiction, it has these pearls of wisdom thrown in, in the most inconspicuous manner.
And that is what reminded me of my lack of conversational skills. It reminded me of all potential conversations I could have had. Not just with Mr. MSJ, but with so many other brilliant, beautiful people in my family - my Grandfathers in particular. And not just people who have passed away, but even those whom I am not in as close contact with as I would like to be. Or those who are actually close, but with whom I've never managed to go further than weather talk. And all these new, wonderful people I keep meeting everyday in training. Have conversations of substance, only to listen.
Maybe one day, I'll know. Until then .. Hello, voices in my head!
Cheers, as always!
~K.
3 comments:
Through my over-simplified glass to see the world, I see that the only kind of people who can have meaningless conversions on the weather or the politics are those who are soulmates or truly despise the other, obviously because of the lack of fear of judgement. (However, I do not and will not ever mean that you cannot have a meaningful conversation with your soulmate, let God be my witness!)
I sometimes feel that reading feeds the desire for conversing. It may seem odd because one may read so that one may avoid talking. But a great book can have a reverse effect on you. Just like you are everyone in your dream, you drown in a book, you turn into each character that you read, then you wake up in this world and you are in a dire need to talk about the marvelous feeling.
Or may be it is something else. The voices are confusing.
Well written K! I do miss the conversations I never got to have. And I know it feels lovely to have a good conversation .. Keep writing ..these are conversations of a different world:)
this is really good ...hope i will also find time to read some long desired hindi literature
let's create a group of hindi literature enthusiasts (my startup brain is overpowering me:))
- vijendra
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