Six Pence And Solitude

In his small life what does a man look for?

Many would say that he is only after wine, women and money. Others will say that he is searching for happiness. Perhaps he is discovering the former by working for the latter. And still many would say that they really dont have a clue as to what is the meaning of this absurd question. But isnt it a known fact that no matter how conspicuously one professes that he is not in the mad rush for money but rather happiness; he is only trying to fool himself. For how can one enjoy or be happy when he is penniless. So does it conclude anything? Yes... that the ulterior motive of our existence on this earth is to earn money and more money and so on.

But do you also realise that you gotta earn real big!! With an average life span of say 65 years and with the rising inflation rates and with what not reasons, which somehow always seem to make you poorer, to maintain the same standard of living or hopefully much better when compared to as of now, you will have to work like an intelligent dog until your last breath on earth. So when do you get the much yearned-after time to relax and enjoy your life.

Again, isn't our average lifespan of just 65 years much too small when compared with the time in cosmic sense. You are born and by the time you reach your deathbed, you might have met dozens of aquaintances and influenced directly or indirectly dozens others or in some cases the figure might run into hundreds or even millions, but have you ever pondered over how many of those are going to remember you after you are turned into ether and does it really matter even if they remembered you and that too for centuries to come? In my opinion, not a scintilla. We say we want to be happy. We are working hard in order to earn money, which in turn will keep our loved ones happy. And they work hard to keep their loved ones happy. In a way everybody is just trying to keep others happy and they are doing this mechanically with a mental block thinking that they are indeed trying to acheive nirvana for themselves. Its a vicious circle. So we are back to square one: do we really have some quality time for ourselves and when we say we want to enjoy our lives, are we indeed talking about our lives?

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I recently read two great books written by equally great authors.

The Moon and Six Pence by William Somerset Maugham.

Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

The reason I have mentioned these books is that they have tried to answer the above mentioned questions, though partially and contradictorily.

In 'The Moon And Six Pence', the author has tried to portray a character who can go to any length just to follow his desires. The fictional Charles Strickland had a pretty wife, two lovely children, a beautiful daughter who was sure to transform into a lovely damsel and who would certainly marry the most suitable bachelor and a son who would surely develop into an athletic and handsome young lad whose career in the army was inevitable, and a cushy and comfortable job of a stock broker. Everything was normal in his life. He was the perfect husband and father. They were assured to lead a comfortable and happy life until they died. But he was not happy. There was something amiss in his life. So, one fine day he renounced his family and job and went to Paris in order to settle there. The reason: he thought Paris would give him a better environment to indulge in his only passion which was painting. In contrast to everybody's apprehensions and absurd conjuctures about his sudden departure, he was staying there in abject poverty. But he did not complain because he was enjoying his solitude and the freedom to paint anything, anywhere and at any time.

Is that what it is to chase one dreams and work only for your own happiness irrespective of what others and your family think about you? He was so indifferent and brutal to everybody he came in contact with that he was always ungracious and never thankful for whatever his friends would do for him. His only aim in life was to paint and when he realised that Paris also didnt give him the abode he was looking for he went to Tahiti. His best years were spent there. Until his last breath on earth he never once complained of his penury or of his ailness as he was afflicted with leprosy in his last few years. I dont think that he even had the right to complain for this was his own decision. He never sold any of his paintings. I think he died content for he had the satisfaction that his life had not been a waste.

The book was certainly a good read. And it shows how different people can have their own myriad definitions of happiness. Charles Strickland's idea of turning into a hermit to pursue his desires was a ridiculous and absurd idea for most people but to him it was the culmination of his long repressed ambitions and their subsequent fulfillment.

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Jose Arcadio Buendia, the name, does it ring any bells inside your ears? It will not if you haven't read 'Hundred Years of Solitude'. Before taking it up I was a little apprehensive about reading it because it was my first book by the author and moreover a good 422 pages of it :) But start reading it and the story grips you until the very last page. It reads like a fairy tale.

Jose Arcadio Buendia discovered a newland secluded from the whole world and his family along with the first settlers laid the foundation stone for a happy and prosperous village and christened it Macondo. It was surely a happy village for its people were hard-working and through their labour they had made it self-sufficient also. They had never needed to contact the world outside their village. Neither they were interested in the petty politics played between the labours and the conservatives nor they had any fleeting concern about the government and its useless and often conflicting policies. Jose Arcadio Buendia was a dreamer and would often venture into unprofitable and insane projects on his own. Despite this he made sure that his village was always on the path of development. If there was anyone who was as tireless as he was but practical at the same time, it was his wife Ursula. She would run about the whole family house trying to join the loose ends, taking care of the needs of every family member and guests as well and giving her sage advice. Until her very end she was the soul of the house.

Colonel Aureliano Buendia, the second son of Jose Arcadio Buendia was a self-decorated colonel. There was no cemetry in the village for it had never seen a death. But one incident changed his life. Patrol guards of the conservative government had killed an innocent woman and his son. From that night on he had turned into a rebel. He collected some of his most trusted friends and they set about the country in hopes of routing out the conservatives. It was an all out war against the government. And they were pretty successful at it too for from a small group of few men they had grown into an effective organisation of 2000 men active across the length and breadth of the country. Colonel Aureliano Buendia survived many attempts at his life. By the time he retired from his lifelong rebel he was a respected figure all over the country and even the government realized that fact.

Jose Arcadio Buendia and Ursula's family was very big. Four generations are intertwined in a labyrinth of relationships interspersed with wild romances and tragedies. It is a story that makes you realize the folly of existence. Every member of the Buendia family who was ever born is made to die before the story ends and the whole family along with entire Macondo is wiped of off the face of the earth. No character in the story, except Remedios the beauty for she had never belonged to this earth, died content with his or her life. Ofcourse, they had to die one day but you don't feel sad or unhappy at their demise, rather you have a feeling of pity towards them and you feel relieved that they indeed died. No matter the characters were how jovial or nonchalant but there was always an air of solitude about them and a feeling of unbelonging to this world always clung to them. And this feeling gripped them until they met their deathbeds. It is a fascinating story of struggle and perseverance, of practicality and insanity, and of wild and nurtured relationships all at the same time.

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In writing this article I think I might have contradicted and recontradicted myself but then this life is also full of contradictions.

Au Revoir