Μες στα κεφάλια μας γίνεται πόλεμος, πόλεμος που τον κερδίσαμε. Πόλεμος που τον χάσαμε. Το χειρότερο είδος πολέμου. Πόλεμος που φυλακίζει τα όνειρα και τα ονειρεύεται σαν να ήταν δικά του. Πόλεμος που μας κατάντησε να λατρεύουμε τους κατακτητές μας και να νιώθουμε αποτροπιασμό για τον εαυτό μας. Είμαστε αιχμάλωτοι πολέμου. Τα όνειρά μας είναι ευνουχισμένα. Δεν ανήκουμε πουθενά. Αρμενίζουμε δίχως άγκυρες σε φουρτουνιασμένα πέλαγα. Μπορεί να μη μας αφήσουν να φτάσουμε ποτέ στη στεριά. Οι θλίψεις μας δε θα είναι ποτέ αρκετά θλιβερές. Οι χαρές μας δε θα είναι ποτέ αρκετά χαρούμενες. Τα όνειρά μας δε θα είναι ποτέ αρκετά μεγάλα. Κι οι ζωές μας δε θα είναι ποτέ αρκετά σημαντικές για να μετράνε.
Arundhati RoyShe wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. She spoke to no one. She spent hours on the riverbank. She smoked cigarettes and had midnight swims...
Arundhati RoyStichwörter: flowers beautiful midnight
When she listened to songs that she loved on the radio, something stirred inside her. A liquid ache spread under her skin, and she walked out of the world like a witch.
Arundhati RoyStichwörter: inspirational music beautiful witch
Perverted quality; Moral perversion; The innate corruption of human nature due to original sin; Both the elect and the non-elect came into the world in a state of total d. and alienation from God, and can, of themselves do nothing but sin. J.H. Blunt.
Arundhati RoyThey visited him in saris, clumping gracelessly through red mud and long grass ... and introduced themselves as Mrs. Pillai, Mrs. Eapen and Mrs. Rajagopalan. Velutha introduced himself and his paralyzed brother Kuttappen (although he was fast asleep). He greeted them with the utmost courtesy. He addressed them all as Kochamma [an honorific title for a woman] and gave them fresh coconut water to drink. He chatted to them about the weather. The river. The fact that in his opinion coconut trees were getting shorter by the year. As were the ladies in Ayemenem. He introduced them to his surly hen. He showed them his carpentry tools, and whittled them each a little wooden spoon.
It is only now, these years later, that Rahel with adult hindsight recognized the sweetness of that gesture. A grown man entertaining three raccoons, treating them like real ladies. Instinctively colluding in the conspiracy of their fiction, taking care not to decimate it with adult carelessness. Or affection. [emphasis mine]
It is after all so easy to shatter a story. To break a chain of thought. To ruin a fragment of a dream being carried around carefully like a piece of porcelain.
To let it be, to travel with it, as Velutha did, is much the harder thing to do.
Stichwörter: imagination love education parenting make-believe
Some things come with their own punishments. Like bedrooms with built-in cupboards. They would all learn more about punishments soon. That they came in different sizes. That some were so big they were like cupboards with built-in bedrooms. You could spend your whole life in them, wandering through dark shelving.
Arundhati RoyAmmu loved her children (of course), but their wide-eyed vulnerability and their willingness to love people who didn't really love them exasperated her and sometimes made her want to hurt them-- just as an education, a precaution.
Arundhati RoyTo the Kathakali Man these stories are his children and his childhood. He has grown up within them. They are the house he was raised in, the meadows he played in. They are his windows and his way of seeing. So when he tells a story, he handles it as he would a child of his own. He teases it. He punishes it. He sends it up like a bubble. He wrestles it to the ground and lets it go again. He laughs at it because he loves it. He can fly you across whole worlds in minutes, he can stop for hours to examine a wilting leaf. Or play with a sleeping monkey's tail. He can turn effortlessly from the carnage of war into the felicity of a woman washing her hair in a mountain stream. From the crafty ebullience of a rakshasa with a new idea into a gossipy Malayali with a scandal to spread. From the sensuousness of a woman with a baby at her breast into the seductive mischief of Krishna's smile. He can reveal the nugget of sorrow that happiness contains. The hidden fish of shame in a sea of glory.
Arundhati RoyAlthough you know that one day you will die, you live as if you won't.
Arundhati RoyWhen, as happened recently in France, an attempt is made to coerce women out of the burqa rather than creating a situation in which a woman can choose what she wishes to do, it’s not about liberating her, but about unclothing her. It becomes an act of humiliation and cultural imperialism. It’s not about the burqa. It’s about the coercion. Coercing a woman out of a burqa is as bad as coercing her into one. Viewing gender in this way, shorn of social, political and economic context, makes it an issue of identity, a battle of props and costumes. It is what allowed the US government to use western feminist groups as moral cover when it invaded Afghanistan in 2001. Afghan women were (and are) in terrible trouble under the Taliban. But dropping daisy-cutters on them was not going to solve their problems.
Arundhati RoyStichwörter: gender women feminism islam france
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