The Parable of Dover Beach
Life is most sorrowful. Only when you are asleep, or when you are dreaming, do you find respite. In the past fifteen days I have slept very little—on average only four to five hours. And because of this dreadful exhaustion, not a single dream has alighted upon my eyes. The beautiful architecture of dreaming has gone missing. Instead, there has been a backdrop of ceaseless and excruciating torment. Whatever life once bestows, it comes again at the appointed time to reclaim. My father is ill, bedridden for many days. My mother too had become unsettled and anxious for quite some time. It was the season of Durga Puja. I kept thinking—what could I possibly do? There was no leisure for reflection. Nor was there any element of entertainment. At last, last week, I ended up watching four films. Night shows. Two at Nandan, and two more on my laptop, deep past midnight. Cinema distracts one well. Above all, it keeps the nerves occupied. Whenever I find myself shaken, and feel the ne...