My Thoughts as they are: The Absurdity of Togetherness

It was one of those rare lazy afternoons I could afford to lie on the couch with a hot cup of tea cooling off right beside on the table. Outside the window, it was raining quite heavily and the imagery might have become a cliché now with frequent online posts about people watching the rain with a cup of tea or coffee. It was, however, how it was and I was contemplating over what I had read for an hour and a half. If Thoreau’s Walden spoke about the joyous solitude in the woods, then Albee’s plays talked about the misery of loneliness and the vain efforts to seek contact. And I could understand best and relate to both, loneliness and self solicited solitude, as I lay down on that couch thinking about the year I had celebrated Christmas with a group of strangers. This was something I would never have done, say, a few years back. I am sure most of you would agree that after a certain period of time of silence, conversation becomes necessary. Like water after a long jog in the morning.

What if I have to say something?

Albee elucidates a similar theme in his plays The Zoo Story and The Death of Bessie Smith. In The Zoo Story, two strangers start talking at a park and as the play progresses, we realise that the two people hardly have anything in common, yet they are trying to seek some connection, linking each line of their speech to something or another. This reminded me of nothing but the Christmas episode when I was in the train on my way back from Kerala. So you see, even this story follows a similar route. We were about eight of us in that small compartment and within a span of twenty four hours, we had celebrated Christmas, shared a cake and enjoyed a movie together. It is quite something if you ask me, yet not at all unbelievable and if you were to wonder how this was possible, you would not find a logical explanation to it. That is the absurd nature by which we communicate.

Carver, in his short story Viewfinder, describes a stranger visiting the protagonist with a photograph he had clicked of the character’s house. The story centers around the conversations of these two characters. And throughout the story, the characters do everything except talk about the sale or purchase of the photograph in question. And what were they trying to achieve by prolonging the talk of business? Nothing. They probably wanted to break spells of long silence.

Mundaneness ought to be obliterated and what comprises of our existence is the rest. We find a little joy in the brief conversations we have while commuting or while travelling alone somewhere. My “viewfinder” is this screen you are peering into and just in case you find the entire idea absurd, think about whether you know me. Of all the things we read, or speak, or write, what do we really do? And if not for this absurdity of communication and togetherness, what would we possibly share?