Where inspiration lies

Over her husband's shoulders Dulshi could see waiters walking from one table to another. She caught a glimpse of a crook-backed man hobbling out, his mouth drooping and drooling. Outside, another with sinewy arms was toiling up snow-covered passes. Birds have ceased to chirp, waiting for winter to leave Moscow.

Disciple didn't want to spoil his vodka with add-ons. Master chose hot coffee.

"They have warned me against vodka." Master offered explanation though nobody actually cared. "Those were the days..." He mused as the steaming coffee was ambling along his innards.

"Mr. Wickramasinghe used to come here on and off. Moscow was somewhat another home to him."

"Well, master... I respect Martin Wickramasinghe, but honestly his works are so boring. I mean very unexciting. Dull."

Master was not quick to respond Dulshi.

"Now, now Dulshi, don't be that harsh. Well master, it's like this. Wickramasinghe is 'probably' the greatest writer. Or that's a fact beyond doubt. But I don't know - there is something missing, we were talking the other day."

Master nodded firmly. There was no sign of disapproval, both disciple and wife could note.

"And the books you talked about?"

"Almost all the books, master, starting from Gamperaliya. Yes we talked about all of them."

"Viragaya and Bhava Tharanaya too?"

Master sounded specific.

"Well..."

"Well... and I hope not. I know I had the same feeling about Gamperaliya trilogy. Many writers touched the same subject after him, perhaps overused the 'generation' concept. But remember Wickramasinghe was in the writing business, and there itself he proved himself quite versatile."

Master paused to take a sip. But the coffee has gone slightly cold. Dulshi poured more steaming coffee from the pot and served two more ice cubes into her Tangi Lemon. Disciple leaned against the sofa nursing his glass, still almost untouched.

"He wrote on different subjects. Diametrically opposed, you can say. I'm not going to touch that area."

Master took a moment's rest before resuming.

"Both these novels are his masterpieces more than others. At least that's what I think. One major feature is stream of consciousness..."

Dulshi's eyes brightened up at this point.

"Yeah I know. William James invented the concept."

No sooner than she had uttered those words, master burst out laughing. And that was quite a laugh! Everyone at the inn turned to see what's going on here. Even disciple was getting uneasy a tad. In a few seconds' lapse however, master regained composure.

"Sorry for embarrassing. But you know these things make me laugh. These concepts have been with us right throughout, but for the hell of it we think it belongs to the West."

"But William James coined 'streams of consciousness'!" Dulshi shot back somewhat unhappy she couldn't say anything more aggressive.

"There you are my dear. 'William James coined', not 'invented'. Stream of consciousness was there even at the Buddha's time. Remember how the very first instance of enlightenment is recorded? 'Such and such thing arose in me. Such and such thing dawned upon me'. You find plenty of 'stream of consciousness' in oriental works."

"Actually what do you mean by stream of consciousness?" Disciple sounded bewildered.

"It's a narrative style trying to portray an individual's point of view. Take Joyce's 'A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man' for example. You can see how Joyce has manipulated individual thought process into a work of fiction."

Master tried to fathom Dulshi's tone - sore and nearly humiliated, if only he cares to name them.

"Such a brainy wife you've got, my son! Yes she is right about the stream of consciousness. So we were talking about Viragaya and Bhava Tharanaya. These novels have one major protagonist each. Their thought process comes out as stream of consciousness."

"That means Wickramasinghe was on a voyage of self discovery?" Disciple asked suddenly.

"Excellent." Master beamed with happiness, as he had the next sip of coffee, gone cold again. No one to serve him with hot coffee this time; it was of least interest for master. "He is the man of our tradition, son. It's the success story of our man. Viragaya's Aravinda and Bhava Tharanaya's Siddhartha were both in a quest for truth."

"And you think they found it?"

"I don't have to think my dear. They found it. That's what our stream of consciousness means."

Disciple didn't understand a word as yet. Dulshi looked downcast, though still attentive to master's words.

"Try to remember Aravinda's wording. Being devoid of worldly pleasures, Aravinda finally finds solace. But the thing is that's somewhat vague. Viragaya is Wickramasinghe's first step of tracing the essence of our tradition."

"Now I understand."

"Bhava Tharanaya clearly shows Wickramasinghe's maturity, may be because it's his last novel. Siddhartha struggles with his own emotions and overcomes them all one by one. He made sure his future generations wouldn't get lost. When the likes of Joyce and James keep looking for an answer, Aravinda and Siddhartha have already found it. That's our stream of consciousness. That's why you should read Wickramasinghe in particular."

Sachitra and Samodh

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