Fictional Reality-Lost in Reality

Posted: May 28, 2015 in Blog Posts
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

And what if I write about a middle aged dusky brunette? With black squint eyes laden with dark shadows and face covered with wrinkles? and rough hands with poorly clipped nails? what if I feature such person in my tales who does not own fancy laced dresses rather wears the ragged scruffy grey skirt with patches of taut leather to keep it in one shape? and a path choked by untrimmed branches and rocks leads to her cottage?” he asked in a cold voice while he smirked a little. His one brow raised a little higher than the other and his lips making a pout as if he took a sip of strong vinegar. Sitting on the coffee stool with his arms folded on his chest, he glared at Jensen. His words were followed by a deep grave silence.
Jensen looked at Nash whose words were pounding hard in his mind. What was the thing that Nash was trying to mention under cover. For he had just admired his work by saying that,” had you not mentioned all those beautiful landscapes and woven the details about the heavenly features of the village girl. Your book would have been a cracked egg.”
Jensen always wrote about fantasy. His stories used to envision the perfect Juliet for one. He scribbled about the flawless beauties. His words rich with the poetic description of his characters were a lethal weapon to capture the attention of the readers. He was admired, he was loved and above all he was venerated for the perfect writings in which he framed the harsh realities of life merged within the perfections and personas with glamour. But his stories were so perfect even without mentioning the lope holes of the lives of his characters ? Like the bloom is so beautiful without the touch of autumn leaves.. But then we know that every bloom covers up for the wrinkled dried old autumn leaves. So maybe his fiction perfections were also covering some lope holes of the characters…or maybe his own life? But who would ever think so deep ? who would think about the soul behind the pen ? When you read a verse , you drink the words, wear the cloak of expressions and try to sink in the depths of the sentiments associated to that verse relating to your life. But the writer? you never think about him. The people who read Nash’s work probably had the same thick approach. They also embraced the spell of his words and perceived their lives in a different manner. But every time the tale came to an end their perception about life changed in a peculiar manner. And same was with Nash, every time he wrote a story, his own life was re written. But was there anyone to search about the soul ? was there anyone who for once did care about what made his writings so soulful , so honest, so profound..?? what made fiction so realistic?? Perhaps no one.. But the answer was only with one person , Nash himself..
Silence had canopied them and they both were travelling far in their own constellations of memories.
A small cough made Nash come out of his thoughts. He looked up, Jensen was standing close to him. Discerning his expressions, fathoming his thoughts. But his face was like a cryptic maze.
“Nash when you said about writing the tales featuring the mainstream and disliked features.. what was that you meant to say ?” Jensen asked slowly. Nash looking at the wall with a misty expression spoke in a small dejected voice,” these people out there.” as he spoke he walked towards the window and jerked his head towards outside. He continued,” they like fantasy, they want to see perfection. They like the stories that can never happen in reality. But they put their faith in them. But you know there is always one person out of these million who does drink the draught of words. And visualizes in a divergent manner.” his breaths running faster. And his heart thumping hard against his chest. But Jensen stood muddled . He could not understand what Nash was trying to say. Waited for Nash to complete the answer.
” there is no perfection in this world Jensen. Not even near to perfection . we are flawed. We all have dark centers in our lives , we hide from the world. But you know when we write. We write the tales having everything just so perfect in it. The environment, the people everything is just perfect. you know why ? Because we write our realities in a blend of what the world wanted . We write down the truth in fusion with the lies, the world tell us. We write about the handsome romeo and the stunning Juliet just because for us they are always perfect because we perceive them so. Because for every fiction character there is a real human being living , a part of the writers life…and the writer perceives them as perfect, with his own eyes , in his mind through his own heart. Though she maybe a middle aged squint eyed , rough, ragged brunette..They are perfect in ways the world never knows..” Nash was now silent. The answer was given. The truth remain unleashed.
There is no such thing as fiction in this world, everything we read in fairy tales carries a piece of soul of the writer. Every fiction is real, happening somewhere around in the world. It maybe a part of someone’s mind or perhaps someone’s life. That’s the beauty of fiction..that is the beauty which molds a poor old scruffy village girl an admired persona by thousands…so before you think about the perfection related in a fiction saga, drink the words and walk in the shoes of the writer . Maybe the thing you are considering as top notch is just top notch from the writers lens.

Areesh Fatmee For Beyond Sanity Publishing

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Comments
  1. mamoonraza says:

    (Clapping) I always wonder how some fellas think like this.

    Liked by 1 person

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