Today I felt sad. Why? A very common reason --- some series which I used to watch with quite a bit of interest had one of the characters killed! Oh, that's preposterous -- I hear you say -- it's just some cooked up fiction, for God's sake.
Really? Maybe it is. But it is so much more -- much so much more. I don't need to emphasize how much. Do you know, years back -- it's more than a decade by now (ah, how the time flies!), when I used to write a diary, I wrote something about these stories, movies, serials, ..., whatever all there is. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was something like this: Real life ups and downs, happiness and sadness, ..., are all either over-dramatized, or under-dramatized (really, the director has a flavor for dramatization, hasn't he?) or just adequate (wow, I hear somebody say, just the one who should win a prize..) versions of what we see made up in the cultural arts. (This was written in a simple but elegant language, though, in a fit of emotion, when what you really feel has a very high probability of coming out pure and elegant...I am proud of the language, even though I can't seem to recollect exactly). Of course, the rational friend says, where else would stories have come from? or Art? or Music? or Theater? All are, one facet, or another, of the real life.
Yes, I tell my pragmatic friend -- how right you are! And yet sometimes, I see movies, I read books, ... just to escape from this real world, to be something I never can be in real life, ... . Oh come on, says my pragmatic friend, grow up! You are no longer a kid who lives by dreams? But, I contradict him, when you grow up, can't you have dreams? He is really pragmatic, since he always has a ready pragmatic answer: Sure, just have a realistic one. Do good, become famous, get money, --- there are so many things to dream of. Yes, you are right indeed, I say, what is the use of these dreams of fiction?
But then why does my heart weep? I tell him nothing no more. He will never understand it, -- and yet I weep, wait for the waves of time to wash out the structure that the particular book/movie/serial created in my sandy conscience. The trouble is that, the conscience is not fully made of sand --- it is rocky at places. And then the water has a hard time doing the job.
Does, --- should the writer have the supreme power to decide who will live and who die? Can he act like a God? Writing about a decade back I had argued in the affirmative. He created the character, and he has the right to decide what to do with it. But, now I realize, it may not always be the right thing to do. When the character out the author's pen grows life like, and affects so many people's lives, dreams, feelings, emotions, ..., should the author still do whatever he likes with the character? Does he get to wield the power, do whatever he wants with so many people? I don't whats the right thing to do --- and neither I am going to argue for anything with my sandy-rocky conscience.
Meanwhile, I will just let it weep. Farewell, Ed! That's one more dream not come true...
Really? Maybe it is. But it is so much more -- much so much more. I don't need to emphasize how much. Do you know, years back -- it's more than a decade by now (ah, how the time flies!), when I used to write a diary, I wrote something about these stories, movies, serials, ..., whatever all there is. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was something like this: Real life ups and downs, happiness and sadness, ..., are all either over-dramatized, or under-dramatized (really, the director has a flavor for dramatization, hasn't he?) or just adequate (wow, I hear somebody say, just the one who should win a prize..) versions of what we see made up in the cultural arts. (This was written in a simple but elegant language, though, in a fit of emotion, when what you really feel has a very high probability of coming out pure and elegant...I am proud of the language, even though I can't seem to recollect exactly). Of course, the rational friend says, where else would stories have come from? or Art? or Music? or Theater? All are, one facet, or another, of the real life.
Yes, I tell my pragmatic friend -- how right you are! And yet sometimes, I see movies, I read books, ... just to escape from this real world, to be something I never can be in real life, ... . Oh come on, says my pragmatic friend, grow up! You are no longer a kid who lives by dreams? But, I contradict him, when you grow up, can't you have dreams? He is really pragmatic, since he always has a ready pragmatic answer: Sure, just have a realistic one. Do good, become famous, get money, --- there are so many things to dream of. Yes, you are right indeed, I say, what is the use of these dreams of fiction?
But then why does my heart weep? I tell him nothing no more. He will never understand it, -- and yet I weep, wait for the waves of time to wash out the structure that the particular book/movie/serial created in my sandy conscience. The trouble is that, the conscience is not fully made of sand --- it is rocky at places. And then the water has a hard time doing the job.
Does, --- should the writer have the supreme power to decide who will live and who die? Can he act like a God? Writing about a decade back I had argued in the affirmative. He created the character, and he has the right to decide what to do with it. But, now I realize, it may not always be the right thing to do. When the character out the author's pen grows life like, and affects so many people's lives, dreams, feelings, emotions, ..., should the author still do whatever he likes with the character? Does he get to wield the power, do whatever he wants with so many people? I don't whats the right thing to do --- and neither I am going to argue for anything with my sandy-rocky conscience.
Meanwhile, I will just let it weep. Farewell, Ed! That's one more dream not come true...
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