Succinct, story the short and sweet lit genre is known for its crisp telling, cadencing brevity, oftentimes convoluted argument too, but ever so briskly paced, ethos invoking, raconteur heft and then on occasion the O Henry surprise slash under the sudden avalanching end.
Pathos and pathos evoking- of extraordinary Chekov Wanka slay style, or the MUNSHI PREM CHAND genius worked catharsis in the reader's mind- are storytelling art’s absolute summits, the spice in the telling’s gruel.
Even so, mainly, the story as practised is born of human suffering at the hands of human society. Such has been the tradition so far. THE DIAMOND NECKLACE is the finest exemplar. Of course, this sky scintillates with many a storied star-bright, coruscant and lo! enlightening too for the life’s deficiencies plagued given contexts.
I have often feasted upon the savoury offerings, yet with some wakeful reserve if not trepidation altogether. I seek in the story hope, promise and healthy optimism.
Humans must not always be suffering; they are here for a reason and with a purpose, both stepping stones to hailing in human beings the positive and in shoring in their hunger for enlightenment so they live evoking the finest in culture and civilization.
So I too felt the urge to try my hand at the story genre; I do hone literary writing. But I never much made it to conventions conforming story writing. I never could because human suffering, however real, never made an impression on my mind other than provoking in me a disgust for convention and, so to say, confirmed living. Rebellion always holds attention, always, and an innocent wish to be of use in bettering human society.
Humans are not born so they live to suffer. No! Not at all. That would be so unnatural indeed. That is not the natural covenant. I observed little suffering among other species that could be attributed to the ‘society-made’ realm. In fact, all the so-called lesser species relish living, their own society made suffering absent from scene. Birds famously sing their bird songs. Nor are fish any less playful. The peacock dance needs no saying. That story is endless.
Humans, in contrast, “excel” at accentuating man-made suffering in human society. They know of no bounds there. The latest kid on their suffering causing block is technology, ever more fermenting sciences born technology. We presently are bearing witness to the fast-emerging mega mammoth on the world stage: ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE.
Who should then be wasting time writing stories that ‘glorify’ man-made human suffering? Select examples: WANKA. KAFAN. GOD SEES THE TRUTH BUT WAITS.
Not me!
I write but to provoke healthy thought among readers. The thought itself is Indian nation-centric, INDIA REDEEMING toned that is. That is my home turf and chosen thematics. There the form essay presses; story can wait at my atelier.
I write but to inspire my reader to dream, and dream big, such as should help human beings make the best of their once in Yugs bestowed human life. It’s their chance to make it in coming clear of the recurring soul transmigration that is but PURUSHAH SUKHDUKHANAM BHOKTRITTAVE HETUH UCHAYATE. Yet that natural mandating is discreetly different from man-made human suffering which is needless punishment for the sufferer’s no fault, and certainly depriving a seeker of his or her chance to transcend worldliness as part of living experience- that at its very best and indeed the finest one available to human beings.
If I were to write story, it would address that particular facet of living out life.
A famous such instance from Urdu literature is PARCHHAYIYAAN, a longish piece of Sahir poetry- lo! Poetry at its finest as storying on another superior plane. The unique work encapsulates humankind’s Nuclear Age pains and pleasures as no other literary work.
But then Mahabharat is a story as is the one preceding the great epical storytelling, namely RAMAYANAM, both wonderful mega stories that tell a thousand tales on how humans make it to best-ever living, tops living, purposeful living and living that adds meaning to human existence- the finest art ever of living knowledgeably.
Well, on our turn, what can one offer but a brave effort at following in the footsteps a la MAHAJANO YEN GATAH SA PANTHAH.
Not bad.
To each their own.
So is too the art of storytelling well served.
If at all, I will tend that belles lettres fragrant garden.
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