Do we make monsters, or we just unearth them from within? Dark and philosophical, no? Well, such allegorical thoughts do come to mind when you have spent better part of the week reading Frankenstein, yes, the good old sci-fi novel by Mary Shelley. The books leave with you a paradoxical thought: to love or hate the monster? Is the monster made or born?
The book also delves into the theme of how one’s appearance and demeanour, in this case not very eye-pleasing, can ostracise one from the society. Reminds me of the fact how an apparently cuter looking dog in my society gets more food and love than a lesser looking. Also, reminds me of something that Javed Akhtar said recently: Justice is man made. Nature has no justice.
Shelley also exposes the flaws in the society, like the fear of the Church, but let that be for another post. To neutralise the impact of Frankenstein, I, in vain, started or restarted, The Metamorphosis. It was stupid of me to think the absurdity of Kafka would make me feel any better. It only added to the abyss of depression. I don’t know if it’s just me that Kafka queerly resembles Camus in more than one way.
Enough nihilism for the week I guess. The monsters of business do takeover at times. My personal monster (I say it half-jokingly here) is AI. You see, I have been in the business of creating textual content for ages. It paid my bills, and sometimes afforded me some luxuries (including the luxury of time), but good new AI has dislodged Google search and making content has never been easier. I somehow don’t seem too rattled. I don’t fear losing business – that’s one fear as well. Perhaps, too much Kafka or rather Kafkaesque.
This week, I plan to finish Knife, Salman Rushdie’s memoir after his attack. A good old friend gifted this book last year, and I have been guilty of not doing justice to my favourite author. But then, justice is man made, no?
Adios for now!
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