How do you react when you think you need people’s love? Do you become a slave for their approval? Do you live an inauthentic life because you can’t bear the thought that they might disapprove of you? Do you try to figure out how they would like you to be, and then try to become that, like a chameleon?
When i’m away in a remote village or a forest, climbing a tree or hiking onto a mountain, the little things, the colors and the flowers, the fresh water and the fresh wind, the sounds of the birds and those of the children speaking in a language that i cannot fathom; i realize that all of these things and all of the people at this moment are here without any human planning and yet they perfectly sync into each other’s beauty.
And then, i come back to a city where a building design takes ages and a tree plantation cannot sustain itself without a newspaper coverage of showing mr so & so with ms so & so planted these many trees. A city is full of planning, awful or good, but its symmetry makes me sick.
Nature, no matter how unplanned and unsymmetrical, fits perfectly with one another. It somehow blends everything in itself and bends itself to fit. While the “planned civilisations” continue to destroy everything around them to give them “a right shape”.
What do we think are we, humans, doing, really?
The above snippet has been written by stuti on 2nd september 2017 where she wonders about the ways of nature and cities. She is left in awe of how remote villages are so much in sync with nature while cities are stuck in haphazard-ous spirals of planning and human design.
Some conversations are like water, they flow and they take many shapes and forms; they diverge, they converge and eventually they all merge into one. But it’s not the intention or the end that matters, it’s what they do while they go along, they dribble, they drizzle, they tickle.
Gayathri Prabhu is the author of the novels The Untitled (2016), Birdswim Fishfly (2006) and Maya (2003). She teaches literary studies at the Manipal Centre for Philosophy and Humanities.
To the author: If I had to tell it again is not just a piece of artwork but also a labyrinth of suffering, a very personal of course-where you hold the readers’ hand and tell them – it is going to be mostly dark, but do not be afraid, I’m going to take you places, and let’s unfold this darkness together.