Arghyadeep Dash

MS 2011

Pastel View is about relentless contamination of the volitional abilities. The perceived reality, hence, is a stable construct of the mind. The strange monotonousness is hidden by a persistent desperation for immediate clarity that, nevertheless, remains unachieved. Tenacity colours the awareness and desperation disguises itself as a normal routine. One may not be aware of the gradual metamorphosis or the elements responsible. This leads to unavailing and elusive manipulation of the consciousness. As a result, myriad possibilities are buried under plain view.

The word absurdity is coming to life under my pen; a little while ago, in the garden, I couldnt find it, but neither was I looking for it, I didnt need it... Absurdity was not an idea in my head, only this long serpent dead at my feet, this wooden serpent... And without formulating anything clearly, I understood that I had found the key to existence, the key to my nausea, to my own life. In fact, all that I could grasp beyond that returns to this fundamental absurdity. Jean-Paul Sartre

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...so here I am. As I open the door, I can sense the flow. How smooth it is. In front of my eyes, I see the world. I perceive it. Almost with pure fluidity, I ponder how I could be any less affected. There is a world outside that I would, a thousand times, like to view impartially. But what the hell: I think, I suffer. I raise questions, but I am never sure if there exist answers to them. A strange mind it is. And stranger it gets. It is imperative and natural for me to analyse my existence. I have a view, slightly blocked by my spectacles. A consciousness runs through me. My actions are supposed to be meaningful. But I am a puppet whose strings I myself tied, carefully and passionately. I do not expect everyone to raise philosophical issues. It is honourably boring. It has taken away that whiff of extroversion from me. But I want to be able to see into myself. I want to be real. And then I delve deeper again. I have got a thousand memories to draw on and a thousand expectations to satisfy. I have got more companions when I am all alone. I am just too busy casting doubts on axioms. Brain is a weird organ. It gets you inside fractals.

There is no escape. There is but one and only one consistent realization of the nature of things. Everything is absurd. We have an intrinsic desire to find a meaning of life, the universe and everything. But there is no meaning that we can uncover. Our thoughts are preceded by our biases, and we continue to make gestures commanded by existence. We move in circles, and the information obtained through analysing the universe merely sharpens our trajectories. The universe is indifferent to human beings and this must be fully grasped. Once grasped, attaining happiness from illusions would be the most difficult job to do. All of us are fundamentally included in one of the three categories of dealing with the absurd. One, you sustain within your mind an abstract hope. This hope is caused as a natural result of the unfathomable absurdity. (A physicist making every effort to determine the properties of an elementary particle, hoping that the information or its consequences could give certain meaning to his life, or transcend it. An existentialist who believes in a mystical and unlimited God, and relates the absurdity of everything to this entity, forbidding rationalism at and beyond that point.) Two, you suicide, thus, immediately ending the existence and hence its relation to the absurd. Three, you accept the absurd. Consequently, you realize the triviality of hope and existence of true beauty in the absurd.

The search for meaning is, perhaps, meaningful. And that is truly a difficult pursuit. By gaining, step by step and by pure reason, a true understanding of the nature of universe, it is possible to invigorate our senses. I guess that is something that we, the people of science, are supposed to do. But then, there can be many other pursuits for meaning. For me, being an artist is meaningful. For a friend of mine, music is meaningful. Now there is a basic problem: How do you verify that the meaning you construct agrees with the meaning that is inherent? There is no way to do so.

Crazyman

Why do we run anyway? Is there no need of a reason? Why then human beings seek the truth through reasoning? What is the need to spend the entire childhood educating ourselves when we dont understand the backdrop of the process? Why cant we then agree that the vicious humanity has ultimately found a way to control our lives by inventing illusive wool-gathering techniques such as money and religion? If we agree (or not), can we colour our lives with pastels and then wish to decrypt the traces that we coloured? Do we do that all the time? The fading rainbow spans the embers of the mind and flawlessly evokes those beautiful strings of magic that tied us together when we were young. That rainbow did not narrow any more than our minds did. On and on we travelled across the bridges of self-deceit. The bell of mundaneness is ringing. It is attenuating as we walk down the road. One day, the sound will fade away. And the pastel traces will forever vanish. With conscious efforts, we will try to chase the precious. Life is a state of mind. Existence is the portal to experience it. There are infinitely many prime numbers.

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Drifter

To dawn into a world where a plethora of artificial meanings have long been ascribed to objects. Of a million languages, to be aided to learn a few; and to fit into the simulation with such aids. To be driven to conform to the system. To realize the ridiculous nature of habit and the cyclic tedium of existence. Artificial meanings have replaced the corresponding objects. This is a combinatorial system based on layers: the base layers are in shreds and their remains are buried. Relevance of the system cannot be measured, nor verified. This system is the received reality. In such a process, the meaning of the real is obscured. Contradictions arise in cases where linguistic or designative meanings can no longer be assigned to objects, and hence are superseded by vague expressive views. This is not to say that expressions are independent of previously held beliefs sustained by language and signs. Owing to such deterrences, the meaning of existence is scarcely sought after. Inclination to create meanings and structures characterizes the mind. In waking life, one refers to the previously assigned meanings to construct clarity. The cosmic irrelevance of this regenerative system renders the proper feeling of absurdity. Being unable to perceive objects for what they really are, we are lost; like being lost in a maze. Routine activities and social entanglements inexorably conform us to the system. And time passes by. We will always be lost. In fact, being lost can be extremely engaging. Staying in the maze, we find profound structures of meanings and simulations that disguise themselves as worldly opportunities. And we are happily deluded. Hope is no longer futile in this system, hence. Am I nearing the edge? Perhaps not. I cannot perceive the boundary. I see only darkly. And beings of the maze cannot identify with me. The sense of time is becoming progressively strange. Everything seems absurd, indeed. But I have to keep drifting for there is no other way. Ignorance cannot be recovered. What can you ask from life, anyway? A quiet death? Its all a joke. A cosmic joke.

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