[MY BOOKISH OBSESSIONS] The Bright Sun Will Bring It To Light //Grimm’s Fairy tales//

A murder.
A guilty conscience.
A revelation.

Where do you go to escape from yourself, from your own mind?

No matter how far you run you can never leave that small voice in your heart behindthe guiding angel that’s present in all of us showing us the most truthful mirror ever that shows us just as we really are.

All of us are hiding something – some dark truth, some humiliation, some desperation. And the tailor’s apprentice – the main character of our story – was too. Falling on hard times, he grew so desperate for money that he reported to killing someone! The Jew he decided not to believe when he said he only has eight farthings – before leaving the world – uttered the following words:

“The Bright Sun Will Bring It To Light”

Although the apprentice didn’t pay much attention to his words then – carried them in his heart as he moved forward in life, married, and had children.

But the guilt was festering in his heart something dark and malignant at a rapid rate. He couldn’t see it yet but there was not a single day when his mind didn’t decide to torment him with the memory of his horrible crime. The flashes of those images – killing a man, dragging him to hide behind a tree, going on as if nothing happened – must have played horrible tricks on his mind.

On one particular morning, as he was waiting by the window for his wife to bring him coffee, he saw sunlight dancing in the liquid, jogging up memories of the event he never really forgot and before he knew it, he uttered the same words as Jew did when he died, in front of his wife.

A woman as she was – a woman in the grip of curiosity – she MADE HIM CONFESS THE SECRET BEHIND THAT SENTENCE.

She was dumbfounded, for sure. And her need to protect her husband was great indeed, which is why she promised never to utter those words ever again. But, it seems that her need for gossip was greater. *shrugs*

First she only confided in her friend with this larger than life, closer to death secret. But if Pretty Little Liars has taught us anything, it’s that –

Two can keep a secret IF one of them is dead.

-which, alas, wasn’t the case here. And very soon, the apprentice’s dirty laundry was out in the open for the whole town to see and condemn him for. It’s amazing, isn’t it? How subtle the threads were that lead to his downfall!

Does time heal all wounds?

Yes. It does. But it doesn’t hide the one who afflicted those wounds. The Jew was the victim here and he got justice – the law of nature saw to that. And the apprentice – guilt ridden as he was – was made to pay his dues. Because his true nature demanded it.

I have found from experience that the human soul isn’t made to carry as big a burden as comes with guilt. No matter how big or small, we always have that urge to atone. To make peace with whoever we wronged.

I was a rebellious teenager. Doing things just because my parents didn’t like them gave me joy. Was it joy? (NOPEEEEEE) Or just an effort to look cool? (100000%) I don’t know. But yes, I frequently disobeyed my mum and dad. My teachers. Everyone who dared tell me the distinction between right and wrong.

And one day I suffered because of it. My parents were called. I had to sit at home for a week – listening to them bash me, for valid reason, of course. But I didn’t care.I spoke back. Hurled at them the meanest words you could possibly imagine. They were hurt. Especially my father.

A day passed. Two did. A week. But no one spoke to me. I felt deaf. Irritated. Angry. At myself. At everyone.

Finally, I came to the realisation that it was the guilt of what I had said – of the fact that I had hurt them with my words – that wasn’t letting me rest. And it wasn’t until I apologised and they forgave that my heart found peace.

Such a little incident, isn’t it?

And yet, guilt overpowered me just as it overpowered the apprentice, even though the gravity of the situation was decidedly different in both these cases.

No doubt he must have felt light as a feather after confessing to his wife. In those precious few moments he must have felt the kind of freedom he couldn’t for many, many years! And hidden even in his condemnation was his joy – that he didn’t have to live a lie any longer; that the weight of the secret, of the hurt he inflicted was off his chest now.

There is satisfaction in that.

In the end, no matter how deep you choose to bury your mistakes, no matter how many blind eyes you turn, the sun’s bright rays of truth always bring it to light.

So, remember dear readers – read your books; eat your veggies; and confess your wrongdoings – no matter how small. And anyway, there is no bigger misdeed than hurting someone to an extent that it causes a crack deep in their hearts!

Go within yourselves – dig out every trace of guilt that’s been ailing your beautiful heart and turn it into a dove – with a little apology and lots of love.

[R E V I E W] Let go // A novel of obsession//THE ZAHIR by Paulo Coelho //

People are like clouds.  Sometimes they stay welled up, greyed, and full of pain. Sometimes they let it all out, sometimes they rain.

But whether the drizzle is a happy one or just a premonition of an upcoming storm is quite hard to figure out. There is one thing, however, that we can be sure of and that is the reason behind all they do –

L O V E.

Sometimes it’s the lack of it that drives them mad, sometimes its abundance. But whatever the case, it’s always the extremes that lead to every outburst. Something similar is at the heart of T H E  Z A H I R by Paulo Coelho.

I have never really been that keen on Coelho, to be honest. Yes, I have read The Alchemist, and yes, it was a brilliantly written novel but that was years ago and since that one book by him, I never quite got myself to pick up any other of his books. I don’t know but there is something about the way he writes. It’s mysteriously unsettling. It’s like something inside of me wants to escape whenever his words enter my thoughts. I feel…well..I can’t quite put it into words but whatever it was, it stopped me from reading whatever Coelho wrote. That’s why I put off reading The Zahir. It was given to me by my boyfriend who made me promise that I would read it. And I did, thinking that he will soon forget about it and I won’t have to go through that unknown and tremendously disturbing feeling again.

But he would NOT let it happen! DAMN, he would pester me EVERY DAY about it! xD SO MUCH THAT I HAD TO READ IT AND GET IT OVER WITH. He claimed that once I read The Zahir, I will change my opinion of Coelho. I doubted it but I decided to give it a shot anyway.

AND HE WAS RIGHT!

I admit that the first few pages, I didn’t know what was going on and was uninterested. But just as I was about to quit (I was, after all, looking for reasons to just close the book), I was hooked in.

It was like the words were clawing me in and the more I resisted and wanted to leave, the more I kept getting drawn into it. It was like quicksand and I could not break myself free.

I was now a captive of this treacherous little book.

And I never realised when my hate for my captor turned into Stockholm syndrome*!

*ONE DIRECTION, ANYONE??? oh, come on!!!!!

That was the moment I knew I was falling in love with Coelho and what’s weird is that I ENJOYED IT!

The Zahir was becoming my obsession. The sheer volume of the narrator’s thoughts! THEY WERE VERY LOUD! I could hear my mind screaming them back to me, just to ensure that I never forget it.

I was enjoying this kidnapping! I was enjoying how completely detached from the world I was becoming. And somewhere in this process, I found the one answer I too had been searching for soo long, without even realising it –

Am I happy?

urst.

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There is someone for everyone which sets their souls on fire, who ignites such a passion in their hearts that it becomes impossible to not think about them in every thought, to not see them in every face, to not dream of them every passing night.

But the tragedy is that some people realise this a little too late – that once broken, the fragile thread is never smooth again, the heart is never again. That’s something that happens with our story’s protagonist. He is rich. He is famous. He has the passport to be with any woman he likes and still lead a happily married life. But he isn’t happy. He loves his wife. He loves his career. But he isn’t satisfied. His wife loves him. She loves her life. And yet, she isn’t satisfied either. Neither of them is happy. They need to find that SOMETHING. THAT FEELING OF BEING ALIVE. And in search of their respective obsessions…what will they eventually get?

Passion or despair?

I am T H E  Z A H I R.

Your obsession.

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I was left enthralled by the time I finished reading this absolutely gorgeous book. Have you read The Zahir?
Did you feel the same?

Do you plan to read it?

What are your opinions of Coelho in general?

Do you feel the same aversion as I felt before reading The Zahir?

LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS BELOW! ❤ ❤ ❤

Until next time 🙂

‘Eh, my little beauty, eh, my beauty’ //WOMEN IN LOVE – D.H. LAWRENCE (REVIEW?)//

READING is the utmost pleasure – that’s true enough.Anyone up for debate on THIS topic, here is my reply to you –

 

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MARY POPPINS  TO THE RESCUE!! ;P

But sometimes it also serves as a reminder of the acute lack ( of what, exactly? ) in our lives. When I see all those characters so intimately involved in each other’s thoughts and feelings – the inner workings of their minds – I can’t help but feel a sharp sting. It reminds me of all the things that I don’t have in my life yet – all those things that I haven’t experienced. And what’s more – it makes me wonder IF I’ll EVER have it all? And these realizations pave way to skepticism. So, in a way reading is dangerous. It is AS TREACHEROUS AS IT IS PLEASURABLE.

Continue reading “‘Eh, my little beauty, eh, my beauty’ //WOMEN IN LOVE – D.H. LAWRENCE (REVIEW?)//”