Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The Mask

Blows
Impact
Rage
Gloom
Perplexity
Rapture
Tears
Remembrance
Jostle blindly
And silently
Masked sanely

Don’t rip the mask, please.
You’ll peel off the skin.

You won’t like what you see, I tell you.

You’ll turn away in disgust

And shatter me.

10 comments:

Titus Eapen said...

Thats Beutiful poetry!!

Shruti said...

exactly the same emotions raging inside me.. u r right!.. a common wind blowing across..
what may be the reason? i wonder..

Swatantra said...

Very beautiful and deep thoughts indeed!!

rahul s nair said...

why wouldnt anyone like it...
its a mirror if you ask me

Balachandran V said...

Thats the crux of the issue, isn't it? That one wears a mask, that one fears that others wouldn't like one's true self? Who knows, there would be somebody who can see what is behind the mask and love you, with all your warts!

P. Venugopal said...

the significance of the mask? imagine yourself without it... simple... all complications gone. BOOM!
in fact, wearing it has been the whole strain, because i cannot wear the same mask all the time. i have to change it every minute. one mask before my wife, one before the boss, a separate one each before each individual and situation i come across. always on the guard to choose the right one for the occasion.
removing it also brings us face to face with another fact. all emotions and passions have been an illusion.
now you look in the mirror.

kochuthresiamma p .j said...

@ venugopal
remove it? no way. it's my refuge & my strength
@ balachandran
mask is our sane image
@ Rahul - mirror also reflects the mask - we live in self delusion
@ swatantra
thanks
@ shruti
at some point we acknowledge the exitence of our mask/s
@titus Eapen
thanks

P. Venugopal said...

Have been experimenting a bit these days, Madam. I see immense possibilities without the mask, possibilities in the spontneity the maskless condition affords. Creativity blooms at zero position--creativity in all one's relations and responses to the world... But 'experimenting' itself is a contrived condition, a condition attained through effort. And when there is the need for effort, one is not at zero position--one is still acted upon by gravitational pulls and is only applying an opposing force through willful effort to reach a position one believes is the zero... One has to travel a long way to reach there and one may never reach the destination too. But I have a vague idea about the possibilities. Anything you touch will become poetry then.
(This is the kind of high-brow comment I deleted from an earlier post, eliciting your advice not to do so. Like Naranathu Bhrandan, I am rolling the stone up the hill once again! Am I creating noise in your beautiful blog? This blog business is a delicate affair. Each one us is in a world of our own and we never know when we touch an exposed nerve. So the mask becomes a necessity here also, doesn't it?)

kochuthresiamma p .j said...

@ Venugopal

i dont believe that hunans have an existence as social beings without the mask/masks. the minute we shed it, we become 'eccentric', 'odd' - even 'insane'. the masks have something to do with our identity. the masks are our choices - the persons we want to be, the image of ourselves we want to project. art happens when an appropriate and aethetically satisfying mask is designed to present the truth which is hidden by our masks.

wonder if i am making any sense!

no sir.you are not creating any disharmony in my blogsphere. i think blogsphere becomes meaningful only when discussions are generated.

P. Venugopal said...

you make a lot of sense to me, madam. that is exactly how it is, the way we manage ourselves in the society.
you come out as a very sobre and practical person in your blog. we follow accepted patterns, but thereby we limit ourselves, don't we?
believe me, madam, art does not happen "when an appropriate and aethetically satisfying mask is designed to present the truth which is hidden by our masks." when we predecide what the "appropriate and aethetically satisfying" is, we are going after a mould that is already set, which is not the truth. we are going after that which is already dead. creativity is the birth of the new, isn't it? how can the new happen when we are totally rooted in the old? i am not speaking about painting a picture, doing a sculpture or writing a poem in a style that is new or old. i am speaking about experiencing the new at the individual level, which may or may not translate into a work of art. it is a very subtle thing. the proof of its subtility is the artist's inability to produce anything that can be called a work of art when he or she is distracted in mind. when our concern is to conform, to receive into ourselves or depict as a work of art something as seen only through a pair of tinted spectacles, are we not blocking the new from happening?