Here is yet again a conversation,the easiest of all in writings,
narrating an exchange of thoughts between two personifications.
T : what is this,boy? You are not writing anything nowadays.
M : (wears a wistful face)
T : what happened?
M : nothing. It is just that I don't write nowadays.
T : why?
M : why is this nosy why?
T : shouldn't I ask this to You?
M : no
T : why shouldn't I?
M : don't know.
T : You seem depressed a bit.
M : I am frustrated too.
T : interesting, then You do have many things to write.
M : Yes
T : so, why don't You write?
M : why should I?, Sir
T : (laughs mischievously)
M : don't laugh. Even if You laugh I shall not write any.
T : don't talk stupid.
M : You tell me this. Are I a true writer?
T : Aren't You?
M : seriously I don't know?
T : how could I help You?
M : You are nice,but You cannot help me.
T : huhumm
M : tell me what is the basic fabric of any writing?
T : Were it cleverness, the writing wouldn't get its simplicity;
Were it magic, only magician could do;
Were it an innate talent,one's writing wouldn't evolve.
I am tired of trying to be too smart here. Let me be honest,
it is honesty.
M : a thread that I don't have to weave my flowers.
T : why is it so?
M : Because pendulum swings to the extremes.
T : what?
M : my thoughts swing wildly between the good and the bad.
T : so
M : so one excites me to write and the other one warns me
not to write. i cant keep drawing one side of a face.
The picture goes meaningless.
T : so where is the way out?
M : there isn't one, I guess.
T : nevertheless You have to express, my boy
M : but the expression goes distorted,my Master.
T : do You know the secret of art? The art breathes its life
only when You try to be honest but not when You are honest.
M : I don't understand your clever language.
T : because You have limitation.
M : maybe your sophisticated thought is too clever to
my bounds of intelligence.
T : sorry,You stupid, I didn't mean the limitation of your
understanding of things.I meant there was a boundary,
a horizon in all that gives the same a definite shape.
so the boundary of Your writing is your limitation.
In other words, though you keep drawing one side of the
face,though your picture goes ugly, there is a living of art.
Hadn't there been this limitation, You wouldn't have
started to draw itself.
M : Excellent, Sir. An excellent attempt of elucidation laced
with the sophisticated diplomacy.
T (with a wily smile) : You are too hard a nut to crack.
M : but not as unyielding as You, The Eternal
T : why is that so?
M : You keep hitting my mind's door until it opens,
feeding it with caress, often letting it retrospect on your past
-the beautiful memories, brood over your present
-the fateful happening, and ever long for your future-the hope.
T : (looks II with love in the eyes.)
M : Yes, You keep loving me,nagging me and haunting me.
You come to meet me every single moment.
T : but remember, Dear, one day I shall not come to see You.
So do finish all your work before I lose You to my enemy, the destiny.