12. Michelangelo Antonioni.
Existence begets survival begets fears begets analysis begets fact searching...and what are the facts?
The fact was that a diary existed, in which there were some more facts written by a normal woman, and some illusions written by a psychologically disturbed woman.
Yes. I am getting rational.Fear made me irrational.She didn't see anything.She thought she saw something.She thought she saw something because she went mental. What kind of psychiatric disorder was that? schizophrenia??
My dad went out, and I was all alone in the house.
I started reading the diary again, this time looking for specific terms 'psychiatry',
'schizophrenia'...I didn't find any of those words, but found the word 'mental'...
She wrote : He took me to a mental doctor today. He thinks I am mental. Mental? I am mental?? The doctor gave me some tablets They are making me sleepy.
She wrote that entry many pages after her last entry...at least the entry which I
had thought as last. I kicked myself for being sloppy. I read the diary again, this carefully, making sure that I hadn't left anything important.
I was amazed at myself for alternating between being rational and being fearful.Fear threw problems at me and rationality solved them. But, did the fear paved way to rationality, and viceversa?
It didn't matter anyway. The facts pointed to a definite solution, a solution which said that my mother had gone mental. I just need to tie the loose ends -- on one end was the smell problem, which I dismissed as a mere coincidence, and on the other end the 'ataka' problem, and in-between is that problem of photo. The last of those two problems, I decided to solve that day. Solve might be a big word..may be more like confirmation.
Even now, I sometimes wonder, why I didn't ask subsequent questions like What happened after she got mental? Why nobody, except my dad knew about it? etc.
My answer is this : How many states of mind are there? There is one state of mind which is full of fear and anxiety, the fear and anxiety which are necessary for survival, I must add. Next, there is the state of mind which consists of complete rationality. It analyzes everything. Finds solutions for all problems. Finally, there is one state of mind which I prefer, and try to be in that state most of the time. I call it 'fuck it' state of mind. (fuck it, in the sense when people say. " fuck it! I will just do it". )
How to define 'fuck it' state of mind?
fuck it state of mind = (animal mind) minus (fears of an animal)
It is the state of mind where you go by instincts, the instincts which define you as a person, which comes out of wholesome 'you', but without the fears.Animals go by instinct, but they are full of fear. If I become like an animal without its fear, I become 'fuck it'. Its like having sex, rather more like fucking, and what matters is your desire.Nothing else.You don't analyze.You don't have any kind of fears. All you want is to satisfy your desire.
Its like when you see a picture, and without much analyzing find out that something is odd about it. Its like recognizing faces without analyzing every part of it. If we transfer that instinct to 'action', then I call it 'fuck it'.
What triggers that state of mind? I had no idea. I have no idea. I didn't know. I don't know.
With that state of mind, I quickly searched for a torch light. My search became fruitful after 10 mins. I found a working, high yield torch light in my dads room. I changed to comfortable clothing, and I climbed the ataka.
It looked chaotic.I pointed the torch light at the darker corners of the ataka.
Nothing there. Then I started the laborious process of unpacking everything in my sight. I unpacked the carefully packed cardboard boxes, unpacked the clothes box, old news papers box, pooja item boxes. I unpacked everything. But, found nothing. I found nothing unusual.
I spent close to one hour there, and was bathed in sweat. All through that unpacking and searching, I was observing myself, I noticed that state of mind in me. I was surprised at myself. It was as if the director said, 'Action', and the actor acting the scene untill the director says 'cut'. is it possible for the director to direct each and every step of the actor? Hell No!
The perfect moment is the moment when the director gets what he wants without being able to understand the thought process of the actor. Its immaterial for him. I didn't care much about thoughts....all I cared was action.
I was pretty confident that nothing unusual existed in that Ataka. I got down from the ataka, went to my room, and laid down for a while. Didn't care much about etiquette of not dirtying the bed sheets. I didn't care. I was THE animal. Right??
15 minutes rest. What next? What next?
But, first, the ending of lose end : Nothing was there on ataka.
Next, the mystery of the photo.
I placed the photo on the table, and looked left and right, as if I wanted to let-go of my 'conscious analysis' of my mind. Then I turned my gaze at the photo casually, looked at it for a couple of seconds, and turned away.
I found the same odd things I found before. The look on my mother's face, the camera angle and the camera's flash in the mirror.Obviously, well, obviously according to my instincts, mother was looking at the camera, and the exact spot where the person, most probably my dad, clicked the camera..that spot had been caught in that mirror. If I somehow find out whats in the mirror, I would be able to clear this mystery once for all. I was quite sure that I wouldn't be able to find anything.I was sure that her expression was the same kind of expression I saw in mental hospitals..where people smile,laugh,cry as if they were going through a movie of emotions...almost a child like.
But, loose end is a loose end. I wanted to clear the last hurdle.
But, How? How to find the contents of that mirror. It was difficult, because the mirror was not those huge mirrors you see in movies, but one of those hand-held mirrors for the purpose of women who think they are beautiful.
Then, I got an idea...more like.. copied an idea. I remembered my favorite movie 'Blow Up' directed by the great Michelangelo Antonioni. I watched it many times before and thoroughly enjoyed every time. WhatS great about that movie is that the director using boredom as an aesthetic. The movie moves slow, and you feel a kind of sweet boredom. Its like that existential shit. But, what I remembered was not that, but a particular central scene in the movie.
The main protagonist is a fashion photographer.In his usual crazy search for beauty, he goes to a park..just on his instinct. He observes a couple romancing..and takes a pic of them. He follows them, and after a few minutes, he finds the woman alone, and take of pic of her. The woman chases after him demanding to return the reel. Cut to the scene I was talking about -- The hero develops the photographs.As he is aware that the woman desperate need of that photograph, even to the extent of going naked for him, he wants to find out the contents of those photographs. He blows them up further, and make them into bigger photographs. He notices something odd in the photograph -- The woman watching someone with fear, and a semblance of a body lying in the bushes. He develops the photograph further, blowing them up again. The photograph takes up the whole wall..as if it is a wall-poster. Then he notices clearly a dead body among the bushes, most probably the body of the same guy she was with a few minutes back in the park. The whole scene unfolds in silence with no music or sound. Thats what make the scene extremely interesting. We observe the hero with bated breath.
I remembered and re-remembered the exact scene, and then, life imitated art. I wanted to blow up the photograph the same-way he did. But, Lacked the equipment. I didn't want to go to photo studio and attract attention. I wanted to do everything by myself.
What to do? What to do?
What if I scan the photograph and zoom it? Simple, right?
I grabbed the photograph and my wallet, and ran out. I went to the internet cafe, fortunately they had a brand new scanner. I requested him to let me do that scanning, and the owner obliged. I scanned the photograph, saved it in the USB, and ran back. I didn't care what people thought of me. What judgment people
came about me? All I cared was to make sure they didn't come to know the things I was doing.
I looked at the JPEG image of the photograph for the first time, after I copied it into
my dad's computer.
my dad's computer.
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