Dibyendu's WallScript

Let us suppose: today there is no sun. The sky is heavy with clouds. Yet the clouds cannot be captured, for they are elusive — and yet they were real, present. It was because of them that, after promising to meet at three, I arrived at the bus stand at five. There was no telling when the cloud-laden hour would arrive. But the promise was certain: she would come. Is there any year when she does not? Rather, it is I who must wait — scorched beneath the furnace of summer afternoons, holding my patience as though it were a ritual.   At last, at five, Meghla appeared at the bus stand. Around us the sun blazed mercilessly, and yet from the southern sky there spread a quiet, dark smile. Gradually, evening crept in on the clock’s hands, and it seemed as though the sun, restless and hurried, had sunk prematurely into the west. Then suddenly — tap — a raindrop slid down my ear and touched my neck. Another, and another — larger drops. From the opposite stand, I glimpsed Meghla, raising her h...

Change, more than political or social stability, is far more congenial to the flowering of human intellect and imagination. The post-French Revolution world believed so, at the very least. Within human instinct itself lurks a beastly yearning—for a safe and permanent shelter. Any system of society finds its most “stable” era cherished as the most secure by its people. The bourgeois mentality of the medieval world can be read in precisely this way, and even today, in our middle-class life, the same tendency is starkly visible. Narrow in outlook, simplistic in faith, prone to regression, bound by superstition, naturally unlettered, half-cultured, suspicious of complexity—these epithets, once long ago bestowed upon the bourgeoisie, still remain apt. In truth, each of these traits serves the cause of stability. Apparent signs of development are loudly showcased, because such visible progress is needed to mask what stagnates beneath.   The cycle of society, if divided, may be seen in fi...