The wicked human instinct comes in the way of the sanest minds who otherwise would come up in the illusions of winning the race of life.
She looked up at the book open in front of him, her head was aching and she couldn't concentrate, but as per his schedule , which she had set , she was to finish fifty pages of the book each day. It was a huge book , she once again checked the remaining pages, still five hundred were left ,she paused and tried to recall what she had read so far, ...it was a seamless narration in a stream of consciousness vein with no adherence to the rules of grammar. She closed the book and consulted the google to find more about the author in order to get dissuaded , but the critics there had glorified the author for his unique style which was inimitable. She went through the book very slowly as to not amiss a word and waited for the spark to kindle her sensibilities. It is the story of a man who relates it through different devices either to engage the reader or to relieve himself of his past memories which cramp his mind and shackle his entire being. She fussed over it more because it was written by Noble Laureate ,Jon Fosse. It was the translated version of the original , and very brilliant at that. She very often regretted that the Indian writers who too may be as brilliant as the western writers , couldn't garner any global recognition because there are no translators ! The humungous population of India couldn't inspire a few who could get on to translations of our great fiction writers. Was it the extreme solipsism or the indifference towards putting the other in exalted position or may be the ultimate philosophy of our scriptures which say that mind and matter are elusive and what matters is the ultimate Nirvan which is absolute freedom from the earthly attachments.
And perhaps what the writer seeks ultimately is this Nirvan.
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