Fictional Narratives

Being a writer
Being a Writer is a puzzle! Sometimes I muse whether the writer has to read all the books in the world. How can that be possible? To write is to have an emotional pouring of a catharsis. No writer reads all the books in the world. In today’s world, fiction is littered with inter-textuality, and the authors are self-reflexive and there are multiple authors weaving the carpet of characters. Fiction is borne from the incongruity of reality and fantasy. Sometimes fiction is representation of ideas with the literary tools of aestheticism.


Flame of the Forest
The Flame of the Forest is a tree with orange flowers. It’s a beauty … a treat to watch. It sings the poems of love …I watch its leaves being gently shed. It bequeaths a soul full of love. Passion drenches into rich emotions on its petals.

Parallel between Sisyphus and Atlas

Both, Sisyphus and Atlas come to use from Greek Mythology. Both are punished by Gods. Sisyphus is forced to roll a boulder uphill only to find that it has rolled down and he is forced to repeat this meaningless task again and again. Atlas is punished by Gods to carry the earth on his head. These two characters represent leitmotifs of existential philosophy namely angst and life having no meaning and purpose.

Rupture Being and Rapture Becoming

Both terms are related to existential philosophy. Rupture being refers to unshackling the mind from clichés of self perception. In other words when this is done there is a rapture of being, a state to look at life with joy, creativity and catharsis.

Fictional Narratives

The Window
I watch the evening light falling on it, a melodious charm. The window’s steel limbs are falling as bent shadows on to the cream curtain. Light is life playing a gentle rhythm of shadows. The curtains are swaying gently in the music of evening breeze. An epiphany is taking place.

Samson’s Hair

We all know the Old Testament story of Samson and Delilah. Samson the hulk was selected by God to rampage the Philistines. With his encounter with Delilah, a seductive Philistine woman, he became enamored with her. God said to him, that the secret of his strength lay on his long hair. Twice after Delilah offering him booze, asked him what was his secret of his strength, but he did not divulge it to her. During the third time, the tippler, Samson told her the secret. In drunken stupor his hair was cut down. Samson’s hair as an Idiom means becoming a prey while facing a precarious situation. I don’t want to invite Samson’s hair into my life.

In the age of writing the novel: Quixote, Quixote was labeled as a mad man and he was a satire of chivalry. Then came the modern age where he was given address as a romantic hero. With the dawn of postmodernism, he was elected to be a chosen prophet of trials in life. His relentless mania for rescuing the fairer sex, his imaginary battle with windmills, his quest for an unknown spirituality, all make him a novel figure in life.

When James Joyce wrote the Ulysses, it was a novel of one day in a person’s life. The book translates into an aesthetic adventure. Here is a constructed narrative of twelve hours.

Morn dawned with the cheep cheep and twitter of the birds. The sky was gleaming red, steaming with libidinous virility. I watch the ritual of a cow being milked and its rich creamy milk fall into the bucket. The newspaper arrives and it is full of narratives about the Corona virus. I scan it briefly and drink my cup of coffee and light a cigarette. I dress to go for my work.

Till Evening
I am in class taking the lesson: Gift of Magi written by O Henry. It’s a story about how a wife and husband sacrifice what is precious for them to a buy a gift for each other. While exchanging their gifts, they realize that the gifts they brought were to be used for the things that belonged to them as precious.

The poem of the sky becomes painting. The sky is covered with veils of crimson. Light is playing music of colors. I feel quite lonely as I watch the birds floating in the sky. Leaves wave gently in the evening breeze.

I have dinner and go to bed. I am full of erotic thoughts. I observe how my body becomes a sublime lyric. I feel like mating with the sweet passion of a river. I dream of a Greek Erotic festival called the Corybantic dance.

The Metamorphosis
Kafka’s metamorphosis is reminiscent of a sales man being transformed into a gigantic insect. When his family realizes it, they isolate him in his room. It’s a story of ironic horror. In a way Kafka’s struggle of acceptance by his father is a major theme in the story. Metamorphosis brings into being repulsion, distaste, disgust and loathing for the self. One wonders if it is a story of a weak willed person. Metamorphosis asks the pertinent question, if the law of attraction works, there would be no need of irony in the world. Metamorphosis reveals a pathos of extreme angst, a Kafkaesque.