Tuesday, February 28, 2017


    Dissenting, insentient, insensate, I descend. I try to imbue with fervour the cavalcade of indignant words that bubble forth. Indigent, indigenously homespun through reiteration I lace my indignation with intent to counter ill intent , assuming that the intentional intensity of these intensified sense of rights will outwit the swirling tides of primordial rage or civilizational unrest.

    Yet my tongue freezes and the words remain unuttered. The capacious, alternately monstrous and disastrous reality I contend with makes a mockery of what I say. Certitude becomes putative, watertight veracity becomes apocryphal. And, accompanying the immensity of the reality whose gravity is immeasurable, whose measure defies comprehension, my meagre measuring of it into impeccable pixels of sense splinter,

    And all of a sudden the waves of myself threaten to besmirch the agency of my self utterance. The safe harbour of the turf, with its gritty textures of brittle safety nets is submerged. Suddenly I am capsized by words into wordlessness. The placid shores of self contained signifiers are redundant and reduced to their insubstantial dimensions. I am drowning now, where the symbolism of the allegorical, the makeshift of the arbitrarily constructed is revealed as make believe . The buffeting tides of incomprehension have dissolved words into the foamy, frothy, ominous depths of extinguishment. It is then that I evaluate the distance I have traversed- of the necessity for dissent , prompted by contending multiplicity, held together by an odd fragment of concession here, an anomalous remnant of relinquishment there.

    But if I allow myself to be swamped in this vast sea where words break down and order disintegrates , this penultimate silence and nothingness which is the unavoidable lot of all human forms then what will I leave behind me but the void of non being. Will I not need to outstrip this disembodiment with a panoply of words ? Will the words be meaningless, will dissent descend into deadness. Will the conventional phrases simply be revealed as the facsimiles they are? I need a new order of dissent and to dissent I need a descent into the underworld of shadows and apparitions and phantoms underscoring what I dissent. This order of descent is not a dantesque allegory of soul purification but a practicable ,survival expedient. Yet, the endangerment it engenders is its own bulwark. Till I unspeak the coordinates of the dissent I hitherto inhabited I need silence while words reconstitute, reassemble and incorporate in their never ending quest to form, re-form, reform, deform and strip away the formulaic to create newer formulas of being and meaning