I had checked the meaning of 'errata' in Chambers online dictionary only a little while ago but now, i can only vaguely recall the meaning. It has something to do with making errors.
Yesterday, I had began reading Pessoa's 'Death of Ricardo Reiss' and had learned the meanings of a number of words associated with the sea-prow, gangplank, quay. I have already forgotten how to use them in sentences. English is increasingly becoming alien to me; the language baffles me more and more, it disappoints me. Do i suffer from Dyslexia?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Feminism, the Sex Pistols and…nothing!
A youngish woman sits by a desk in a small room reading a thick volume that bears the title ‘_ Companion to Philosophy’ on its cover. She seems thoroughly engrossed in reading but every once in a while, she nods her head in a peculiar, dromedary-like manner. On a laptop on the desk, music blares.
She presently begins to shake her head vigorously but rhythmically to the tempo of The Eleven by the Grateful Dead which is playing on her laptop. She evens puts the book away and stands up; she begins to dance. But it is not really dancing what she is doing-she is gesticulating with her hands raised over her head which she nods in the same fashion, reminding one of a camel. The next song which plays on her laptop is The fish cheer by Joe Mc Donald and then plays, Because the night by Patty Smith. She continues her gesticulations through the next songs My Baby by Janis Joplin and God save the queen by The Sex Pistols. As the vocalist croons ‘No future, no future…’she gleefully yells out those words too at the top of voice.
It seems as if she is imagining herself to be at a concert.
She is dressed in a pair of faded, baggy trousers and an equally washed out t-shirt with the image of a man printed on it. The man’s eyes are shut and his mouth is covered and next to this rather curious image are the words, ‘Martin Niemoller, concentration camp detainee in Nazi Germany’. The t-shirt is very loose too but it is still obvious that its wearer is extremely thin. Her hair looks unwashed and disheveled and her face, though clean, looks woefully pale and plain as it has no makeup on it. Her eyebrows- very thick and dark and almost masculine- are rather conspicuous in her otherwise nondescript face. If visage is the mirror to the soul, then she seems to be a hippie at heart. As a matter of fact, if one scrutinizes the glass covered book case on the wall next to the desk, one would find copies of poetry of Allan Ginsberg and On the Road by Jack Kerouac. No wait! The copy of Collected poems by Ginsberg is on the desk itself next to The Book of Evidence by John Banville and a bunch of print-outs of what seem like academic papers; the page on the top has the title Immigrant as pollutant.
As the song Society by Eddie Vedder begins to play, she returns to her chair and resumes reading. She reads without any movement of body or head for another fifteen minutes or so during which more songs featured in the movie In to the Wild gets played.
When suddenly the lull gets broken and Stayin Alive by BeeGees gets played, she jumps out of the chair and moves her long, narrow fingers as if she playing her invisible guitar with passion. She also increases the volume of her music player which soon causes her much vexation. A middle aged lady suddenly appears at the door of the room.
“What are you doing? Do I not tell you all the time that this is not your college hostel or your rented flat? This is our house and you cannot play all these strange music in such a loud volume.” The lady scowled and reproached the woman in the discoloured t-shirt with Martin Niemoller’s image printed on it.
“But it’s only eleven o’clock in the morning and it’s a Sunday. It’s not eleven at night.”
“Yes, you are right-it’s a Sunday. Have I not told you hundreds of times to bathe early on holidays? What perverse pleasure do you get in resembling a vagabond? What would our relatives and neighbours think if they see you in this condition? “
“I don’t care about people who are so stupid as to judge me on the basis of my clothes.”
“You don’t, do you? Well guess what, I care and I will ensure that you do too.” The middle aged lady said menacingly and then added in a softer voice,” Do you realize you have not had your breakfast yet? You complain that I lose my temper too often but what option do you leave me with but to get angry when you behave in such thoughtless, sloppy manner? Now, go and bathe and then have breakfast. I have made egg rolls today.”
“But why did you? I mean good for you that you made them but am not going to have them. You know that I have turned vegetarian. I am not going to eat eggs.” The youngish woman looked resolved to oppose this time.
“Ah! Practice vegetarianism when you stay alone in Bombay. I have brought you up on a diet of fish and eggs and meat; you have to eat them here. “
“But I don’t want to, ma. “
“Don’t argue with me now.” The lady reprimands the woman again. “Turn off the unbearable noise immediately and go to the bathroom now.”
The woman storms out of the room, looking indignant.
The song which is now playing is the We are the Sleepyheads by Belle and Sebastian but the stern lady closes the music player on the laptop and she shuts the tome which the woman has been reading; the title of the essay which she has been reading is Feminism and Philosophy.
She presently begins to shake her head vigorously but rhythmically to the tempo of The Eleven by the Grateful Dead which is playing on her laptop. She evens puts the book away and stands up; she begins to dance. But it is not really dancing what she is doing-she is gesticulating with her hands raised over her head which she nods in the same fashion, reminding one of a camel. The next song which plays on her laptop is The fish cheer by Joe Mc Donald and then plays, Because the night by Patty Smith. She continues her gesticulations through the next songs My Baby by Janis Joplin and God save the queen by The Sex Pistols. As the vocalist croons ‘No future, no future…’she gleefully yells out those words too at the top of voice.
It seems as if she is imagining herself to be at a concert.
She is dressed in a pair of faded, baggy trousers and an equally washed out t-shirt with the image of a man printed on it. The man’s eyes are shut and his mouth is covered and next to this rather curious image are the words, ‘Martin Niemoller, concentration camp detainee in Nazi Germany’. The t-shirt is very loose too but it is still obvious that its wearer is extremely thin. Her hair looks unwashed and disheveled and her face, though clean, looks woefully pale and plain as it has no makeup on it. Her eyebrows- very thick and dark and almost masculine- are rather conspicuous in her otherwise nondescript face. If visage is the mirror to the soul, then she seems to be a hippie at heart. As a matter of fact, if one scrutinizes the glass covered book case on the wall next to the desk, one would find copies of poetry of Allan Ginsberg and On the Road by Jack Kerouac. No wait! The copy of Collected poems by Ginsberg is on the desk itself next to The Book of Evidence by John Banville and a bunch of print-outs of what seem like academic papers; the page on the top has the title Immigrant as pollutant.
As the song Society by Eddie Vedder begins to play, she returns to her chair and resumes reading. She reads without any movement of body or head for another fifteen minutes or so during which more songs featured in the movie In to the Wild gets played.
When suddenly the lull gets broken and Stayin Alive by BeeGees gets played, she jumps out of the chair and moves her long, narrow fingers as if she playing her invisible guitar with passion. She also increases the volume of her music player which soon causes her much vexation. A middle aged lady suddenly appears at the door of the room.
“What are you doing? Do I not tell you all the time that this is not your college hostel or your rented flat? This is our house and you cannot play all these strange music in such a loud volume.” The lady scowled and reproached the woman in the discoloured t-shirt with Martin Niemoller’s image printed on it.
“But it’s only eleven o’clock in the morning and it’s a Sunday. It’s not eleven at night.”
“Yes, you are right-it’s a Sunday. Have I not told you hundreds of times to bathe early on holidays? What perverse pleasure do you get in resembling a vagabond? What would our relatives and neighbours think if they see you in this condition? “
“I don’t care about people who are so stupid as to judge me on the basis of my clothes.”
“You don’t, do you? Well guess what, I care and I will ensure that you do too.” The middle aged lady said menacingly and then added in a softer voice,” Do you realize you have not had your breakfast yet? You complain that I lose my temper too often but what option do you leave me with but to get angry when you behave in such thoughtless, sloppy manner? Now, go and bathe and then have breakfast. I have made egg rolls today.”
“But why did you? I mean good for you that you made them but am not going to have them. You know that I have turned vegetarian. I am not going to eat eggs.” The youngish woman looked resolved to oppose this time.
“Ah! Practice vegetarianism when you stay alone in Bombay. I have brought you up on a diet of fish and eggs and meat; you have to eat them here. “
“But I don’t want to, ma. “
“Don’t argue with me now.” The lady reprimands the woman again. “Turn off the unbearable noise immediately and go to the bathroom now.”
The woman storms out of the room, looking indignant.
The song which is now playing is the We are the Sleepyheads by Belle and Sebastian but the stern lady closes the music player on the laptop and she shuts the tome which the woman has been reading; the title of the essay which she has been reading is Feminism and Philosophy.
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