Story theme : Existentialism & Absurdism.
Have you ever felt like you don't know where you're going, or if you're making any progress at all in your career or your life? If so, you were most likely having an 'existential moment.'
Existentialism is
a philosophical and literary perspective that focuses on the experience of an
individual person and the way that he or she understands the world.
Absurdist fiction is a genre
of literary fiction that focuses on the experiences of characters in
situations where they cannot find any inherent purpose in life, the
philosophical condition of being ‘nothing.’
The
hallmark of the genre is the study of human behavior under circumstances
(whether realistic or fantastical) that appear to be purposeless
and philosophically absurd.
Absurdist
fiction posits little judgment about characters or their actions; that task is
left to the reader. Also, the ‘moral’ of the story is generally not explicit,
and the themes or characters' realizations, if any, are often ambiguous in nature.
The
theme is inspired by the French philosopher, Albert Camus who published his
manuscript ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’.
Camus considers absurdity as a conflict, a confrontation, an opposition, or a
divorce between two ideals.
The
human condition is absurd, the confrontation between a man’s desire for significance/meaning/clarity
and the cold, silent universe. There are specific human experiences that evoke
notions of absurdity.
Such
a realization or encounter with the absurd leaves the individual with a choice:
suicide, a leap of faith or acceptance. Camus concludes that acceptance is the
only defensible option. The leap of faith is ‘philosophical suicide.’
A man can choose to embrace his own absurd
condition. Man’s freedom and the opportunity to give life meaning, lies in
acknowledgement and acceptance of absurdity. If
the absurd experience is truly the realization that the universe is
fundamentally devoid of absolutes, then we as individuals, are truly free.
*****
“Thus,
I draw from the absurd three consequences, which are my revolt, my freedom and
my passion.
By the mere activity of the consciousness I transform into a rule of life what was an invitation to death and I refuse suicide.”
-
Albert Camus, The
Myth of Sisyphus
*****
“When
there are no more problems to tackle in life, life becomes completely
meaningless.
Life
without challenges, is equal to death”
*****
This short story is based on the theme of
Absurdist fiction/Existentialism, where the protagonist exists in a meaningless
state of mind and yet, submits to it, accepts the same and eventually finds a
way out of it.
*****
The Answer
Why?
A
simple word it was.
A
complicated word it was!
A
million questions within the question. A billion ‘whys’, within the ‘why’.
Which
of the questions were more important now?
WHY?
Why
was I even alive?
Why
wasn’t I dead yet?
Why
was I spared?
Why
me? Why only me?
Why did they all have to go before me?
Appa, amma, thaatha, paati, little Ramani...that innocent soul who was still
a child at heart…
And the baby! Akka's little infant's half-burned body had been found under
the suitcase with silk sarees. It had fallen from the racks above the seat they
had chosen for them, because it was ‘safer’ in the front.
Why?
Why
had they even gone on that wretched tour? Why could they have not stayed at
home? Why did the whole family decide to travel all at once? Why didn’t they
chosen a better vehicle, a better travel agent?
Why hadn't they heeded the warning of that old sweeper at the guest house they had
stopped at, the previous night? Why didn’t they take him seriously, when he
told them that those roads in the Western Ghats were treacherous for their
landslides at this time of the year?
Why?
Why did
they choose to travel to Tirupathi during the monsoon?
Why did
the divine Lord of the Seven Hills decide to take them all away, soon after he gave
them his blessed darshan? Not even an hour had passed since they started out
for Mangalore…never to reach their earthly abode called home…
Why
had I been unable to move or react, when I felt the huge vehicle tilt on its
side, as if in horrific slow motion? Why did I see the gaping gorge rise up
towards me through the open door of the bus, and yet, not even let out a scream?
Why did I freeze up like a dead statue, at the time of absolute peril?
Why?
Why
had I lost consciousness after I felt that bump on the back of my head? Why did
I wake up to eerie stillness, without even realizing that I’d fallen 16 feet
into nothingness?
Why was
I the only one to be thrown out of the ill-fated vehicle, only to land on a tree
branch, with minor bruises to show for it? Why was I rescued by passing
villagers, while the bus, with everyone else still inside its deathly confines,
rolled further down, 32 feet into the chasm and go up in flames at the bottom?
Why?
Why
was I, Ganesh Arumugam, MBA, Senior programmer in HP, chosen to be the sole
survivor of the most horrific accident of the decade?
Seventeen
lives. One family. MY family. Gone. Gone forever. Never to return.
But
here I am! Alive and well. Barely bruised.
Why?
Why
was I spared? I have no family to call mine anymore.
Why
do I need to work? Why do I need a job? Why do I even need to live this cursed
life?
“Annaa….”
The
small voice was barely a little more than a whisper. I ignored it.
A
tiny hand tugged at my shirt sleeve.
“Annaa,
I’m hungry…”
I stared
down at the brown little hand, before my lashes to focus on the watery eyes
that gazed dolefully into mine.
Why?
Why
wasn’t this…four year old child leaving me alone?
Why
did I have to bring this child home with me in the first place?
Why did
I even follow the ‘rescue’ team to the morgue in the Government hospital, on
that fateful day, with the charred, ghastly remains of some of my family?
Why
had I noticed this child sitting cross-legged next to the two cold, steel
containers that housed the bodies her parents? Why did she look up, to lock her
unblinking gaze onto mine? Why did she smile at me?
Why?
Why
then, did my numb mind find a semblance of normalcy
in that guileless smile?
Why
had I asked her name? And Lord Venkateshwara, why did she reply ‘Navya’!?
Navya…The
new one...a new beginning…a wonderful name, I’d insisted as being perfect for
the new member of our family. The name I had chosen for Akka’s baby, my lovely
niece, who perished in the accident…
Why
does fate play such cruel games with us mortals?
I
felt a teardrop land onto my upturned wrist. Navya still stared at me, but the
tiny droplet had escaped from beneath her lids.
She
put her thumb into her mouth and began to suckle on it with an audible sound.
I was
jolted out of my reverie of ‘Whys…’
Why
was I alive?
Her
eyes held the famished look of a child who has lost everything. Those bottomless
dark pools, still shone with the light of hope. Hope…
Hope…that
the gangly fellow who picked her up from the morgue, would protect her from the
cruelty of the world. Hope, that the 34-year old guy who’d adopted an orphaned
child and brought her to his modest two BHK flat in Chennai, would raise her as
his own daughter…
I
smiled at Navya, even as I allowed unabashed tears to flow down my five-o-clock
stubble. I pulled myself up from the wooden rocking chair that served as my
faithful brooding companion every evening, to switch off the fan.
She
slid her tiny hand into mine and skipped along to the door, dragging me behind
her, wiping her eyes with the knuckles of her other hand.
“Come,
let’s go out for dinner, you like Chinese food, don’t you?” I chuckled.
*****
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