Alter ego

 

When one has so much to tell, so much to express but one has no suitable listeners- at least not the kind one aspires for- because the ideal listener could only be oneself. However, the thoughts needs to be expelled- the words need to be uttered- albeit soundlessly. And when one writes it down in words- lo behold! It is like one has the ideal listeners arrayed right there in front - hanging on to every single articulation!  

The other day I was reading a renowned author's reminiscences- the person in the writings was so loquacious- Here was a person who has so much to say- so many observations, so many insights, opinions. A whole new person emerged couched in the armour of words.  

In real life he comes across as so remote, so distant- his demeanour always so stoic and grim, as if he actually abhors company. The people who are familiar with this outward persona wearing the mask of inscrutability - would hardly be able to believe or even imagine the gamut of thoughts and emotions running amok within.  A soul that throbbed so tremulously, and yet concealed so adroitly. The readers upon getting acquainted with  the hidden thoughts crystallised in words are amazed that the entity revealed in the writings and the outward opaque persona were one and the same.

This world of words and language of the author feels like an invitation into the sacrosanct precincts of another universe – the doors are left wide open for the reader to explore, to relate, connect and marvel- every nook and cranny, every tile and crevice feel familiar. 

 

We the readers, are given access to that hidden persona only through the world of words- and not otherwise- nobody gets a peek into it any other way. It is like this whole another person was caged within the deceptively grim, stoic carapace. This was someone who was trapped and yet did not seek freedom in the mundane manner- someone who would leap into the external canvas only through the strokes of the pen. As the readers get familiar with the rambunctious, impish person who is so fascinating within the sheath of assumed indifference and enigma, and then when they encounter the forbidding eyes on the countenance – the impact is mindblowing! 

The reader experiences an impish delight at having caught somebody red handed while indulging in some maverick mischief and is compelled to feel a camaraderie- almost to a back slapping level- with the writer of these thoughts- and yet the forbidding visible demeanour makes the reader ponder if one of them is an impostor- the writer or the written!??