Sunday, December 25, 2005

the god of small things

but when they made love he was offended by her eyes. they behaved as though they belonged to someone else. someone watching. looking out of the window at the sea. at a boat in the river. or a passer-by in the mist in a hat.

he was exasperated because he didnt know what that look meant. he put it somewhere between indifference and despair. he didnt know that in some places, like the country that rahel came from, various kinds of despair competed for primacy. and that personal despair could never be desperate enough. that something happened when personal turmoil dropped by at the wayside shrine of the vast, violent, circling, driving, ridiculous, insane, unfeasible, public turmoil of a nation. that Big God howled like a hot wind, and demanded obeisance. then Small God (cosy and contained, private and limited) came away cauterised, laughing numbly at his own temerity. inured by the confirmation of his own inconsequence, he became resilient and truly indifferent. nothing mattered much. nothing much mattered. and the less it mattered, the less it mattered. it was never important enough. because Worse Things had happened. in the country that she came from, poised forever between the terror of war and the horror of peace, Worse Things kept happening.

so Small God laughed a hollow laugh, and skipped away cheerfully. like a rich boy in shorts. he whistled, kicked stones. the source of his brittle elation was the relative smallness of his misfortune. he climbed into people's eyes and became an exasperating expression.

3 Comments:

Blogger Justin said...

Am I just a booty call to you?

7:58 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

oi! i called your cell twice hoping you would pick up and hoping i could whine about my schopenhauer-esque life. i will call you again.

9:19 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

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11:34 pm  

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