The World Of Literature

Words Of Rent

Books have a strange transcending function. They make you travel through time’s many dimensions. There suddenly you enter the world of the author - at times into that given, at times you become its revived author. And then there are those moments of discovery, a meaning changed, and a feeling’s recovery. Also there are those folds of past. Of moments that were there but never last. There in before when you first entered that world – there in some other time – on bed all curled. But there is this ‘now’ another dimension-Same story, different construction.

So the books provide a nostalgic familiarity – to those worlds you loved and those of reality. The moments keep repeating inside or around- that fragrance of past, that haunting sound. And out of those many worlds it also has this unique quality –it gives you an escape from illusionary reality. There in real illusions you enter in fusions. With varied confusions, you undergo illusions. But each has its aromatic ambiance so different from the other, the fragrance of scents and slimy gutter.

You enter those dungeons of times, you listen to those imagined rhymes. You live life transcending your self – in each of those characters your individuality melts. There you become a collected self of numerous shades. There in fecundity your singularity fades. And you begin to love the magic of letters – to fly – your every particle flutters. You tend to attain some wings with many colors -many imaginations with time’s spurs.

History and ancient civilizations, emotions and repressed fascinations, the zest for life and craving of death – those songs of glory and trumpets of wraths – you listen to them all – being a part of every stall. There you live into those numerous bodies, many characters one embodies.

books are not just illusions after all. they have stories of real life rise and fall. There one finds an escape – into a theater without spade. It might cause many ambers inside your head – you may blush or out of anger – turn red. But there amidst those many stories – there are our ancestral histories . Those are  desires of men – being repeated through all times. They are mental creations –breathing in many rhymes.

Yes, the tempo changes – so do the language. But that is the only way, out of a heavy cage – the cage of time and numerous events – life is all dependency upon those words of rent. 

Written by - Mystical Wanderer