Jahandost is back after a long and hectic semester. I have been meaning to write this for some time now but did not get a chance. Some of the old blog friends from back in the days will pick up the symbolism and hopefully some things will make more sense now. The story is inspired from Jorge Luis Borges. And so my story starts.
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The Muse’s Art
by Jahandost
The moment I found out the truth I was puzzled, how could it be. My life was indeed stranger than fiction. I exited my apartment, took a cab to downtown, wasted no time after exiting the cab and ran towards the building where he worked. I took the elevator to the seventh floor where he worked. As I approached the door and reached for the lock, the door opened by itself and man sitting on the desk spoke softy, “What took you so long Elaine? Must have been traffic right? Of course I could have fixed that but that would not have been that fun, would it?” He chuckled.
“Who are you and how do you know my name?” I replied in a rather bewildered tone.
“Now, now, now. You do know who I am. Don’t you?” He replied.
“So I am not real. “
“You are as real as you want yourself to be.”
“Or is it that I am as real as you want me to be.”
“Well that’s another way to put it.”
“Why did you create me?”
“Don’t be blasphemous Elaine. I did not create you. It is only God who creates. We are mere imitators.”
“Why am I even arguing with you. Are you also putting words in my mouth?”
“Well, its slightly more complicated than that. Elaine, have a seat.”
“You are kind of freaking me out.”
“I do have that effect on people. Would you like to drink anything? Piña Colada, I know that’s your favorite. After all isn’t that your favorite.” And out appeared a glass of Piña Colada from nowhere.
“Let me guess. Here you can do anything.”
“That’s a slight exaggeration.” As said these words he waived his hands and the next thing I know we were sitting in a cafe on the top of Eiffel Tower. Our attire, his and mine, had changed completely.
“Does this cafe even exist in the real world?”
“Does it even matter? Who cares? Anyway is there anything that you would like to know?”
“So who am I supposed to be modeled after? Your sister? Your mother? Your aunt? Your girlfriend? Your friend?”
“None of the above and yet there is some element of truth in all of these statements.”
“So I am the woman you never knew?”
That made him fall silent and the next moment we were no longer in Paris but in the middle of desert.
“But why?”
“To be taken seriously.”
“To be taken seriously?”
“Do you honestly think that people will take me seriously if I said the things that you say.”
“Perhaps not but am I not a lie?”
“Yes, perhaps, may be, no. I do not know. I can live with that Elaine.”
“Right.” For the first time I truly felt some sympathy towards the man who was responsible for my literary creation.
“But since you are such a likable character, I feel ambivalent and perhaps somewhat guilty when people try to relate to you on a personal level given that you are not real.”
“But you just said that I am as real as you want.”
“Yes I did. Its not as much fun as it looks, I mean being able to control or do almost everything even if it is in a fictional world.”
“So it is ok to deceive people as long as it is not on a personal level.”
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
“What happens now?”
“I donno. Perhaps I should ask someone.”
“Perhaps.”
“The good thing is that you won’t remember a word of this discussion Elaine.”
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