Lost In The Dew

We kept our hew In statesman-like to gold Fortuned to the deep Gaining us away And genius game Wafts of liver smoke In doing hell For lights and deadened river To empty guys And cloth upon the ground Who would woo us then But these utensils to end oil And nightshine Made for ever-grade Litmus to unwhen Of festering the deep And forest clear Places unrehome Shining might Level our remission For climate rise Earth in silence This will be our war.

⛱️

And in this heat,- I accepted every light- and high, and buffer In Earthen scream to me This feat of victors’ war To discover us all In making fear the globe For the infirm and their faith Fathers to the elect Rainmen from South Africa,- and a closing of amends Nodes of raining gauge Little hustings of insured men Courts for war and disappearance Tempests to retreat from

Every May in fear That we would be the next- To melt in fury as everyone And inexplicable wire to a glow Nature’s pinpoint intonation Tidings of the West for stolen might The due course of power to every wheel The measurements of diesel and substance then Our victory is Trudeau And the lights that appeared in every virtue Misery to know- These hands were not free And it was not so long ago,- but even then- our courtesy to know- thoughts to interconnection And more than conjecture The Earth made us a deal And we signed under golden light For a Victory in this age And now we are trouble And the duly path to men deliberate hell

The beach has spoken In Earthly rise aboard When all this will be tossed to sea In early light we know The piracy of new- Pilfering our sky to rendered ships Diesel and the acids Places none to be- but ever-built to higher Without a spade to make And angling shore to welsome But abode as before- Atop the sea and drifting Vernacular at war- We are screwed While judgement men replete Our better day is quashed Calgary men to stoke And to stop and quiet What restless worship The policy of gold and rough placation

The verdant West will drown- every man and his moor Lasting South In pailing and deliver We heed your war And duty fold electric Our Victim Sea And pray remit The fossil came to war And in closing light The coming rain- Suppose by pipe The Earth is still afraid- In Vision hell- and suffer.

I had no idea how to be a person in my early twenties. I didn’t know exactly who my true self was since I was living for everyone but myself. I lived under the shadow of my parents who expected me to be successful at every single step I took. I also had no choice but to follow the rules and arbitrary bullshit of the military. Never in a million years would I have guessed that was to be my path after high school. Never.

Know this: the military is a place for waywards and lost souls, not for kids whose parents love them or have legitimate college prospects. Being forced to join the military at 18 after 17 years of mental, emotional, and physical abuse was a recipe for… something called my life. I hated my life at home growing up. There was never a space in time living with my parents that I felt safe or could let my guard down. Naturally the military had me acting the same way. I trusted no one, as everyone had their own agenda and looked out for themselves and no one else. Anyone who was actually in the military knows it’s a corporate hierarchical purgatory meant to beat you down until you obey. At least to the ones who don’t appreciate blindly following authority. Call me dramatic, call the previous paragraph hyperbolic to the American military, I do not care. That is my truth and I have a lot more truth to impart.

My life has been a nonstop transformative cycle of death and rebirth. Over and over again something inside me dies, replaced by new growth fertilized by past experiences of heartache. Just when I think I’ve found solid ground, life shatters for me once again, forcing me to reevaluate how I live, how I see the world. But that’s for another post I suppose. I just woke up with a fire inside and I wanted to throw the military under the bus. As it should be.

Any inquiries about the military experience can be sent to ephemeralds@proton.me as I’ll give it to you straight, the good the bad and the ugly.

Finished Star Trek: Vanguard “Storming Heaven” by David Mack.

Freshly escaped from the T'Kon crystal, the Wanderer regains her strength and rallies the other Shedai to attack Vanguard.

Meanwhile, Nogura and T'Prynn, having traced the source of the artifacts back to the Eremar pulsar, need to send the Sagittarius out to investigate. But the Klingons and Romulans are waiting for them to do just that.

And to cap it all off, the Tholians start amassing an armada on the boarder.

T'Prynn comes up with a plan to send a decoy out, which the Klingons and/or Romulans will happily destroy, while the real Sagittarius is deployed from the cargo hold of a freighter at another location.

The decoy is destroyed by Romulans, and Endeavour pretends to investigate and gather the wreckage. The Klingons, believing the Sagittarius is destroyed and the Endeavour is busy, think they can get away with harassing freighters again, so they go after the one carrying Sagittarius. But Nogura anticipated this, and has the Enterprise lying in wait to protect the freighter. Everything seems to be going more or less according to plan. Which is how you know it's about to go tits up.

Sagittarius makes it to Eremar, and discovers a the ruins of a Dyson bubble in orbit around the pulsar. Not a full sphere, but a series of platforms; staties holding position around the star, and connected by energy lines. They touch down on one, and discover an array of crystals similar to the Mirdonyae artifact, and begin gathering them.

This gets the Tholian's attention, so a bunch of ships break formation from the armada for Eremar. Endeavor follows, and meets the Tholians at Eremar, but are unable to talk them down before the Tholians start destroying the remains of the Dyson bubble. Endeavor engages with the Tholians, giving Sagittarius time to escape the statite before the Tholians turn it to slag, and they both take off toward Vanguard with the Tholians in hot pursuit. Enterprise arrives en-route to shoo the Tholians off, and Endeavor and Sagittarius are able to make their way back to Vanguard. Though the Enterprise needs to go off and have an episode, so they head out in a different direction.

Back at the station, Carol Marcus and Ming Xiong begin working on how to deploy the T'Kon crystals that Sagittarius brought back. A key element being the equation that the Shedai Apostate gave to Birdy Mac in an earlier novel, but Birdy died before she could bring it back to Starfleet. Quinn saw the formula, but didn't memorize it, and spent the intervening months trying to wash away the whole ordeal with whiskey. T'Prinn manages to get the information by mind melding with him, and in the process helps him back on the wagon.

Xiong and Marcus are able to complete the array, and use it to capture all of the Shedai. Everything seems to be going more or less according to plan. Which is how you know it's about to go tits up.

With the Shedai captured and imprisoned in the array, you'd think the whole ordeal would be over. A major threat has been taken off the board. The Tholians are a little stirred up, but other than that, the galaxy is at more or less it's well-known status quo. But Starfleet Command can't leave well enough alone, and orders Vanguard to see what else the array can do. So against all better judgement, they flip it on again, which causes all Tholians everywhere to collapse and recoil in pain. If they were stirred up before, they're rightly pissed off now, and the Armada decides it's time to wipe Vanguard off the map.

...Aaaaand, a battle ensues, which is as good a point as any to leave the rest to spoilers.

Knowledge seems to be a broad theme of the novel, and to a certain extent, to the series as a whole. The pursuit of forbidden knowledge, the applications of knowledge, the suppression and dissemination of knowledge. The various powers trying to gain what knowledge they can, while denying it to the others. The Klingons because they want to make a weapon of it before someone else does, Starfleet because there could be any number or applications aside from weapons, and it would be best kept from the Klingons or Romulans, and the Tholians who know all to well what the humanoids are dealing with but can't be arsed to elaborate beyond “you don't know what you're dealing with”. In another subplot that I didn't include in the recap, Duras is getting a little too cozy with the Chancellor, so Jetanien and Lugok give Pennington just enough knowledge to drop a truth bomb on the empire, disrupting Duras' ascension in Klingon politics, and probably sewing the seeds of distrust that will eventually lead to the end of their alliance with the Romulans. These subtle manipulations of information weave threads through the whole tapestry, which inevitably comes unraveled when one is pulled too far.

The buildup with the Shedai seemed to be a damp squib, as Xiong was able to round them all up with the T'kon crystals and a little bit of technobabble. Once the Shedai were captured, the novel pivots to make the Tholians the primary threat. Having a threat neutralized and under thumb is one thing, but we'd expect our heroes at this point to say “Great! Now let's see if we can communicate with them, and maybe negotiate.” But Starfleet instead decides to experiment with the technology, which should give any discerning Star Trek reader pause. You would think that imprisoning a sentient species, enslaving them and using them against their will to power the very array that captured them would be more disturbing than it comes across. Kirk or Picard would throw a revolt before acceding to that, but Nogura reluctantly states his objections on grounds of caution rather than morally, before giving the order. And it only occurs Xiong and Marcus as a possible legal avenue to stop ill-advised experiments, and not as a moral imperative. Star Trek generally makes a bit more hay over that sort of thing.

Which I suppose is just as well that that morally and practically ill-advised experimentation is exactly what leads to the final showdown with the Tholians.

#StarTrek #Vanguard

Finished “Sanctuary” by John Vornholt.

The novel opens with Enterprise in hot pursuit of infamous pirate Auk-Rex. Auk-Rex is kindof a Dread Pirate Roberts; more of a persona than a person, probably an alias, and mostly serves as a plot justification for the rest of the novel. Auk-Rex is bookin' it to an uncharted planet, which Spock hastily speculates might be a place called “Sanctuary”. A place Starfleet only knows about by rumor where fugitives and political dissidents often go to escape pursuit. So Auk-Rex will be home free if the ship is able to make it there.

They concoct a plan to launch a shuttle to pursue Auk-Rex as they're expected to catch up just as they reach orbit. So Kirk, Spock, and McCoy depart in the shuttle, and pursue Auk-Rex's ship down to the surface only to witness an escape pod crash into the mountain as they arrive.

Now on the ground, they are basically mugged by forest dwelling bandits of various races who relive them of most of their useful technology. They make it back to the landing site only to find that their shuttle is gone; transported away by the Senites.

One of the Senites, Zicree introduces themself and welcomes them, explaining that anyone who comes to Sanctuary is welcome, but must set their old lives behind them, and are never permitted to leave.

The Senites are a race of genderless aliens native to sanctuary. This isn't a major theme or anything. They just are.

Now… this novel was released in 1992, about 6 months after the TNG Episode “The Outcast”, and was probably being written over the previous year. And while non-binary and gender nonconforming people have existed for as long as there have been people, back in the '90s, they weren't really at the forefront of public consciousness. Workshopping of English neopronouns was mostly just beginning, and we were still years away from collectively settling on singular they/them. Star Trek novels did contribute somewhat to this workshopping, with the Hermats, aliens possessing of both genders preferring s\he (which I sort of read in my head back then as sh-he) and hir. But we won't encounter them until later. So the pronoun the Senites got stuck with was unfortunately 'it', though the occasional 'he' slipped in. But they don't really complain about it, and it doesn't really come up all that much, so opinions may vary on how much that really matters.

Anyway, so the Senites allow outcasts, fugitives, refugees, dissidents, or anyone fleeing persecution to come to Santuary to live out their lives. And if they can make it to the ground, then they are free to stay. But they are basically imprisoned there, prevented from ever leaving by the Senites themselves, who impound spacecraft, and maintain an energy shield around the planet. Kirk and party try to explain that they didn't know that before they came down, but Zicree isn't hearing it.

Kirk, Spock and McCoy eventually make their way to a nearby settlement of Dohama, briefly encountering a couple remote homesteading communities on the way. Dohama is inhabited by some of the more savory fugitives, and the Senites generally keep them placated with booze, greasy foods, and nightly festivities. Not too bad a place if you're into that sort of thing. There aren't very many women around, though. It's rumored most of the women are in another settlement called Khyming, which itself is nearby the Senites' seminary and their main base of operation. They meet Billiwog, a long term resident who likes building boats, and buy a boat from him to try to reach Khyming.

Meanwhile, in orbit, Scotty and the Enterprise learn the nature of Sanctuary from the sundry bounty hunters and rival powers blockading the planet in hopes of catching fleeing fugitives before they make landfall. They meet a Klingon captain who had been stationed there for some years just in case a fugitive from the Klingon Empire comes along that he can catch before they touch down. And an Orion pirate captain and former slave girl who Scotty has a brief dalliance with.

Back on the planet, Kirk and the boys wash up on Khyming. Zicree appears and tells them they can stay, as long as they behave, but if they become a problem, they'll be sent back to Dohama.

Where Dohama is a rollicking beach-side shanty town, Khyming is more like a resort spa. They meet up with a human woman, Renna, who recently arrived on Sanctuary with her elderly father, who is in the infirmary suffering massive injuries after crashing on the planet. Injuries consistent with an escape pod ejecting too close to the ground. After her father dies, she joins up with Kirk and party in planning their escape from Sanctuary.

I'm going to leave the summary there for the most part; I don't think it's necessary to get any further into spoilers. Memory Beta has a more detailed summary, so it's not like the plot isn't already out there.

It's an interesting dynamic; If you were to set up a situation like this, welcoming all comers from all walks of life, including unrepentant criminals, you'll inevitably end up needing to keep the more well behaved residents sequestered from the rifraf. So it makes sense that you'd have an isolated place like Khyming, and that Khyming would be majority female. And that much of the majority male criminal element would be exiled to the mainland in a place like Dohama. It's clear the author put some thought into how this situation would pan out. I mean let's face it; There's a reason the hypothetical of meeting a bear in the woods exists. I'm a straight-passing cis male, and some days, given the choice, I'd choose the bear too. It's not the main theme, but it is a theme that gets some exploration.

Another theme that gets touched on, but doesn't get nearly as much attention comes with the revelation that the Senites reproduce by periodically drugging the denizens of places like Dohama and surgically altering and mentally conditioning them. This is posited as more of a situation that poses a hazard for our heroes and their rag-tag party of refugees to escape from, more than saying anything about bodily autonomy, or forced indoctrination.

Starfleet sends the USS Neptune to assist Scotty with trying to retrieve their missing crewmates, which also makes an interesting side quest. The Neptune is a science ship specializing in marine biology, and Scotty was previously acquainted with the captain, Donald Mora. They can't beam down any technology, because it will be destroyed or confiscated by the Senites. They can only beam down biological matter, but anyone they beam down won't be able to leave. This leads Captain Mora to one of the more creative solutions I've seen from a Starfleet captain; to beam down a plague of Regulan locusts that he happens to have aboard that have been irradiated so they don't reproduce and become invasive, but that the Senites won't soon forget. Quite refreshing for anyone who whishes Starfleet would show more balls in dealing with situations sometimes.

The main theme according to the author in his forward to the novel is spaceflight being a privilege. Which yeah, is in there. Kirk and party, and anyone else whether they came to Sanctuary of their own volition or not are planetbound against their will, and denied any conveyance that could return them to the ship.

The much more interesting journey follows Kirk and party across Santuary, from Dohama to Khyming and onward, while they try to devise some way to circumvent the Senites' security system and leave the planet. It's really about the journey rather than the destination. And the real treasure are the friends we maroon on a prison cult planet along the way.

#StarTrek

Any day is a great day when you find a quarter or a dollar on the ground. But since everything is so digital I don’t find as much change. However, I do find pencils on the ground wherever I go.

On Tuesday, I talked about finding pencils in my condo dumpster. Ever since, I’ve been more alert on finding pencils on the ground. So where do I look for them? On the sidewalk or curb nearby school grounds, the parks, libraries, or where the kids hangout or go during lunch.

Just a little warning, don’t be hanging around when there’s kids nearby or pick up a pencil when someone drops one. That’s creepy. Only pick up stray pencils when there’s no one around.

#writing #pencils

I have been on a chicken kick recently, but today I finally had some beef again. Oh, man. That is what my body has been craving. I sprinkled a little bit of desiccated organs on it, salt, pepper, and some butter. Very very, very delicious. I am so glad that I'm liking beef again. Well, not so glad because it's too freaking expensive right now. But very glad that I enjoyed it. My tummy is currently a happy camper, and hopefully it will help keep my anxiety low as everything occurs today. I am fairly certain that I will be able to do omad today. That makes me happy, because I have been thinking about food 24/7. That drives me nuts. That reminds me, I still have some nuts. Not craving then because I am very satiated right now.

Also, and other news. I have a “power station” arriving this weekend. Basically, it's a chin up bar and dip bar, etc. That makes me very, very happy because my over the door chin up bar frightens me. LOL I broke one before, and now I am very hesitant to put my weight on it. This thing holds 500 pounds so I can go crazy on it. I will be tracking how long it takes me to be able to do a chin up again. I have not been able to do a chin up in a long time. It would be nice to be able to do one again. Even if I don't it's just going to be good for me. I have no idea where I'm going to put it. So I'm hoping that it'll fit in my hallway and then I can just walk underneath it. It'll look tacky as hell, but I don't care.

That is all I have. Two little bits of good news.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

Not proofed nor edited.

23 September 2026

“The Open Window” By Tomas Tranströmer From the collection Mörkseende (1970) Translated from the Swedish by Patty Crane

I stood shaving one morning in front of the open window on the second floor. Switched on the razor. It started to purr. It whirred louder and louder. Grew into a roar. Grew into a helicopter and a voice—the pilot’s—pierced through the noise, shouting: “Keep your eyes open! You’re seeing this for the last time.” We lifted off. Flew low over the summer. So much that I loved, does it have any weight? So many dialects of green. And above all, the red walls of the wooden houses. The beetles glistened in the dung, in the sun. Cellars being pulled up by the roots wafted through the air. Activity. The printing presses crawled along. At that instant, the people were the only ones who kept still. They held a minute of silence. And above all, the dead in the country graveyard were still like those who posed for a photo in the camera’s youth. Fly low! I didn’t know which way to turn my head— with my visual field divided like a horse.

Shit, I can hardly log in to anything right now. Almost everything is set up for “two-factor authentication” whether you'd like to or not.

I feel like I'm witness to the doom that is soon to come to many.

#journal

DIGGER is phenomenal. Groundbreaking on multiple levels and may just be the best thing I've seen in the last decade.

The first retail order for THE SOLAR GRID hardback came in from the fine people at Partners and Son. Orders overall have passed the 100 mark. This is actually a very good metric given that I only posted about it 4 days ago. Compared to the Kickstarter campaign I ran way back when, which ran for two whole months and only managed to attract interest from around 400 people.

In other news, phone decided to roll over and die an eternal death out of the blue while I was out, forcing me into a mode of existence I haven't experienced since the 90s. Wherever I look, the phone model I like to use—or anything remotely like it—seems to be completely absent from retailers around here, so it looks like I'ma have to learn how to survive like a caveman for a little longer.

#journal

JOURNAL 15 octobre 2026

La nuit a été agitée, heureusement que je ne travaille pas aujourd'hui. On pouvait pas lâcher la petite comme ça dans la nature. On l'a raccompagnée d'abord à toyoko — je sais il y a la des gens qui s'occupent des gamins ; On est allées avec hayame, pas question d'entraîner les autres là-bas en cas d'ennuis, nous deux on peut assurer…

Les bénévoles font à manger, accueillent les gamins pour qu’ils aient un endroit calme et une écoute mais il y a pas d'hébergement. J’ai téléphoné à A elle était d'accord, on la prend à maison pour la nuit, après on verra. Mais il fallait chercher ses affaires. C'est dans une espèce de sous sol un mec qui lui gardait. J’ai compris que c'était pour la tenir et la faire bosser pour lui. Il y avait trois autres filles qui semblaient plus âgées. Le mec ne voulait pas rendre son sac. Il ne pouvait pas savoir la colère qui m'habite, je lui ai dit : si tu le rends pas je te casse la gueule. Il s’est marré et il a voulu faire son macho. Il veut me pousser Il aurait pas dû…

Hayame m'a arrêtée. On a pris le sac. Les filles étaient terrorisées. Quand on est parties il était toujours par terre mais il bougeait. Ça va pas améliorer ma réputation dans le coin mais je m’en fous j'y mets jamais les pieds. Je ne regrette rien Je recommencerais pareil. Mais si hayame n’avait pas été là je le démolissais complètement Je me fais peur dans ces accès de violence 😬

On a emmené la petite. On l'a fait dormir entre nous, elle était épuisée, on lui a quand même fait prendre une douche, elle s’était pas lavée depuis des jours.

Elle a dormi avec son lapin en peluche Merde Une petite fille

Ce matin on a parlé. Elle est arrivée d’Osaka la semaine dernière, elle a échoué à toyoko ramenée par un rabatteur. Il y en a des tas à shinjuku Aussitôt ils l'ont prostituée. Elle a couché avec trois ou quatre types elle sait plus. On lui donnait quelques yens, on l'a fait boire. Elle a eu du pot de tomber sur nous. On a téléphoné à sa mère qui était super inquiète. Son père l'avait foutue dehors. C’est un ivrogne. Ça s'est passé la semaine dernière. Elle a besoin de se reconstituer On va la garder avec nous quelques jours, puis elle pourrait aller vivre chez une tante qui l'aime bien près de tôkyô. Elle retournerait au collège, c'est d'accord, dès qu'elle se sentira mieux, midori l'accompagnera. En attendant elle reste avec nous. Midori et yôko échangent leurs studios, celui de midori est très bien pour deux celui de yôko est trop petit. Elles déménagent en ce moment.

La petite T chan a repris figure humaine, elle est trop mignonne. c’est une enfant merde merde Mais décidément les pères ici seraient-ils donc tous des salauds ? Je vais préparer un bon repas avec elle pour ce soir, elle ne quitte pas mon ombre…

T chan au si joli et rare prénom dort. On vient d'aller voir en silence. Une petite fille avec son lapin bleu dans les bras qui dort doucement comme si dehors c'était pas l'enfer. Ça me fait venir des larmes. merde merde merde alors ce monde est ignoble le Japon me dégoûte sous le vernis de perfection obligatoire il y a un paquet de merde Ça me rend dingo. Demain je l'emmène avec moi au dojo J'attendrai qu’elle soit réveillée, tant pis si j’arrive en retard je préviendrai yôko.

Au fait ça y est, elle et izumi sont installées dans l'ancien logement de midori et celle-ci dort seule dans le petit nid qu'ont laissé yôko et izumi. C’est bien comme ça. Nous aussi on ne va pas tarder à se coucher on n’a pas beaucoup dormi la nuit dernière.

#Tchan #toyoko

“THE THIRD AND FINAL CONTINENT” (1999)

Kitaptan dördüncü seçimim Jhumpa Lahiri’den. Küreselleşme, kültür, kimlik, etkileşim, göç ve “Amerikan Rüyası” hepsi bu metnin bir parçası. Hikâyenin dergide yer alma tarihiyse 1999 ve devrin getirdikleri bize arka planda öylece göz kırpmaktadır.

Bu hikâyede kabul görmediğimiz kıyafetler, pratikler, görünüşlerimiz de vardır, “içten içe” başlayan yani “gözlerden” bize yansıyan. Erkek karakterin bakışında, eşi Mala’yı anlatırken bunu hissederiz, bir (sari) üzerinden. Anlarız ki değişmeyen şeyler vardır; kadınlar, iradeleri dışında zorla açılmaya, zorla kapanmaya, okutulmamaya, temsil edilmemeye ve bedeni üzerinden tercih ettikleriyle ve edemedikleriyle (kendisi dışında) tüm bakışların hapsi altındadır.

***

Talihimizi uzaklarda ararız, ararken hem unuttuklarımız hem de başarabildiklerimiz vardır; bu hikâye anlatıcının da dediği gibi Umman Denizi’nden başlıyor, Kızıldeniz’e oradan Akdeniz ve İngiltere’ye uzanıyor. Son olarak da üçüncü kıtaya ulaşıyor; o kıtaysa Amerika. Bu bir başarı hikâyesi mi? Tam olarak değil.

Başlığı ilk gördüğümüzde, bize o hiç sevmediğimiz sözcük öbeğini hatırlatır, “üçüncü dünya ülkesi” ama kastedilen o değildir; tarihler 1964’ü gösterdiğinde anlatıcının bahsettiği, uzun yolculuğun sonu Boston’da biter. Bahsedilen Kuzey Amerika’dır, yüzölçümüyle üçüncü sıradadır.

Tarihin 1964’ü gösterdiğini söylemiştik, anlatıcı bize bu konuda hiçbir şey anlatmasa da Hindistan’da bu tarihte ne olmuş olabilir? Okuyucu merak edecektir.

***

Karakter hayatta kalma yolculuğuna İngiltere’de önemli bir üniversitenin kütüphanesinde başlar ve sonu önemli bir üniversitenin kütüphanesine MIT’e kadar uzanır. Kültürün hep izi vardır, karakter sabahları Hindistan’a özgü körili yumurta (yumurta körisi) yer, kriket izlenir ve o meşhur kliplerle birlikte Mukesh dinlenir. Ancak işler Kuzey Amerika’da biraz değişir artık kahvaltılarda mısır gevreği yenmeye yavaştan başlanmıştır. Uçaktan indiğinde karakterin ilk izlenimleri şu satırlarla anlatılır:

“The pace of life in North America is different from Britain, as you will soon discover,” the guidebook informed me. “Everybody feels he must get to top. Don’t expect an English cup of tea.” As the plane began its descent over Boston Harbour, the pilot announced the weather and the time, and that President Nixon had declared a national holiday: two American men had landed on the moon. Several passengers cheered. “God bless America!” one of them hollered. Across the aisle, I saw a woman praying. (483)

Karakterimiz kiralık bir ev bulur, ev sahibi Croft Hanım adında, 100 yaşında sinirli, zor bir kadındır daha doğrusu ilk başta öyle görünür ve Helen adında bir kızı vardır. Bir evde ilk defa, Hindistanlı olmayan birisiyle yaşayacaktır. Ancak bu deneyim, karakterin tüm önyargılarını, korkularını kırar; asıl başarı tam da burada durmaktadır.

***

O tarihlerde Ay’a Yolculuk gerçekleşir (Bilseler hâlâ ediyor). Bu yolculuklar, ev sahibi kadın için fazlasıyla anlamlıdır çünkü “Amerikan Rüyası”nın bir parçasıdır. Hikâyenin kahramanı olan adam içinse bu yolculukların hiçbir anlamı yoktur. Kadın, sürekli “Splendid” (Fevkalade) kelimesini adama tekrar ettirir. Karakter, o anki hislerini anlatırken şu sözlere yer verir:

I was both baffled and somewhat insulted by the request. It reminded me of the way I was taught multiplication tables as a child, repeating after the master, sitting cross-legged on the floor of my one-room Tollygunge school. It also reminded me of my wedding, when I had repeated endless Sanskrit verses after the priest, verses I barely understood which joined to my wife. I said nothing. (487)

Adam, ilk kirasını ödediğinde “o hep emir veren kadın” ona çok iyi davranır, şaşırır. Zaman geçer ve karakterimiz bu yalnız yaşayan kadına alışmıştır. Piyanosu başında onu ziyaret eder ve ziyaretleri sırasında, 1886 yılında dünyaya gelen bu kadının nasıl bir dünyada yaşadığı, gençliği gözünde canlanır.

***

Hikâyenin anlatıcısı erkek bir karakter, çok sevmeden yaptığı geleneksel bir evlilik var. O nedenle eşi Mala’yı anlatırken kurduğu cümlelerden, bakışından rahatsızlık duyuyoruz. Yazar bunu bize çok iyi hissettiriyor. Karakterimiz, eşini havalimanından almadan önce şöyle bir sahne yaşanır:

(…) I saw and Indian woman on Massachusetts Avenue, wearing a sari with its free end nearly dragging on the footpath, and pushing child in a stroller. An American woman with a small black dog on leash was walking to one side of her. Suddenly the dog began barking. I watched as the Indian woman, startled, stopped in her path, at which point the dog leaped up and seized the end of the sari between its teeth. The American woman scolded the dog, appeared to apologize and walked quickly away, leaving the Indian woman to fix her sari, and wait her crying child. She did not see me standing there, and eventually she continued her way. Such a mishap, I realized that morning would soon be my concern. It was my duty to take care of Mala, to welcome her and protect her. I would have to tell her which streets to avoid, which way the traffic came, tell her to wear her sari so that the free end did not drag on the footpath. A five-mile separation from her parents, I recalled with some irritation, had caused her to weep. (494)

***

Bir havalimanı sahnesinde, eşi kollarında altın bileziklerle, alnındaki yaratılışın simgesi (Bindu) ve ayaklarında kırmızı dekoratif kınayla, havalimanında karşısına dikilmektedir. Adam ne bir el uzatmıştır ne de bir öpücük kondurmuştur. Menüde “sığır çorbası” olan uzun yolculukta, Mala hiçbir şey yiyememiştir.

Boston çevresinde yürüyüşleri sırasında adam, Mala’ya ilk oturduğu evi gösterir. Burada bir kadının oturduğunu söyler, yapayalnız bir kadının. Eşini “o meşhur”, “huysuz ama tatlı” Croft Hanım ile tanıştırır. Karakterimiz, uzun bir süreden sonra, o yaşlı kadını gördüğünde, bağırarak “Fevkalede” der, duygulanır ve şüphesiz bu sadece iki kişinin bildiği bir espridir.

***

Tanışmalarda hep biraz mahcubiyet vardır, eğer ki uzak yerlerden bir yaşamın tam ortasına düşmüşsek, heyecanımızı anlayacaklarını umarız. Kahramanımız, eşi Mala’yı ilk defa çok iyi anlamaktadır:

Mala rose to her feet, adjusting the end of her sari over her head and holding it to her chest, and for the first time since her arrival, I feel sympathy. I remembered my first days in London, learning how to take the Tube to Russel Square, riding and escalator for the first time, unable to understand that when the man cried “piper” it meant “paper” unable to decipher, for a whole year that the conductor said “Mind the gap” as the train pulled away from each station. Like me, Mala had travelled far from home, not knowing where she was going, or what she would find, door no reason other than to be my wife. As strange as it seemed, I knew in my heart that one day her death would affect me, and stranger still, that mine would affect her.  (498)

Boston’da ilk kiracısı olduğu ev sahibinin, vefat haberini duyduğundaysa Amerika’da ilk “yasını tuttuğu ölüm ve hayran olduğu hayat” ifadesi kullanılır. (499)

Yıllar geçmektedir artık bir oğulları vardır, Harvard Üniversitesi’nde okumaktadır ancak kaygılar ve korkular anne ve babayı sarmaktadır: Bizden sonra da elleriyle pilavı yiyecek midir, Bengalce konuşacak mıdır? (499)

***

Hikâyenin sonu çok güzel bir cümleyle kapanır:

(…) Still, there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known. Each room in which I have slept as ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination. (500)

Kendinizi unutmadan, yok saymadan ve başkasını öteki yapmadan düşlediğinizden güzel deneyimlerle, insanlarla karşılaşmanız ve hayatları tanımanız dileğiyle.

Bahsi geçen eserler:

A CENTURY OF FICTION IN THE NEW YORKER 1925-2025 EDITED BY DEBORAH TREISMAN. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2025.

Jhumpa Lahiri’nin düzenlenen görseli, Chicago Public Library’den alınmıştır.

Today I learned that my best friend of almost a decades, favorite color is olive. And I thought about how interesting it is, how he is my best friend, has been with me for longer than anyone else, and I feel most comfortable with. And yet I know so little about him, and he knows so little about me, it is one of those stereotypical male friendships I guess. But at the same time, it is so incredibly intimate.

Have been awake with insomnia for the past hour and a half or so. Not sure how much sleep I'll be able to squeeze out of this night.

C’è un alone sul vetro dell’ascensore. Un’impronta, forse due, di mani appoggiate. Un fatto gravissimo, a giudicare dalle reazioni, di quelli che mettono a repentaglio la civiltà occidentale. Il teatro del crimine è uno di quei palazzi genovesi dalla finta signorilità ostentata. Passerella rossa, panca di legno, cavedio impregnato di quell’odore inconfondibile di vecchio e mal arieggiato. Il tutto rivestito di una pretesa eleganza, quella dei palazzi castellettini di fine Ottocento, figli di una borghesia che, evidentemente, continua a pretendere il rispetto dovuto ai nobili senza averne mai avuto il titolo. Chi è di Genova sa. Ebbene, in questo tempio del buon gusto, qualcuno ha osato lasciare un’impronta. I responsabili, naturalmente, sono i ragazzi. stranieri, senza genitori accanto. Una categoria che, a quanto pare, non gode nemmeno del beneficio di avere le mani. Sono dei maiali, si lascia intendere, vivono in un porcile, distruggono la signorilità del palazzo. L’educatore viene redarguito quasi quotidianamente. Gli si suggeriscono punizioni esemplari, disciplina, fermezza, possibilmente con quel retrogusto militaresco di chi considera ancora il ceffone un efficace strumento pedagogico. Non manca nemmeno la lezione di lingua rivolta all’educatore. “Capisci cosa vuol dire? Sai che cos’è un porcile?” Sì. Si capisce benissimo. Si capisce soprattutto chi, in questa storia, dovrebbe sentirsi umiliato. Perché il punto non è il vetro. Il vetro si pulisce. Il punto è quella straordinaria facilità con cui un’impronta diventa una colpa collettiva, un ragazzo diventa un problema e un problema diventa la prova che questa gente non sa vivere civilmente. L’adolescente italiano sporca un ascensore, quello straniero offende il decoro; il primo è maleducato, il secondo è incompatibile. È una forma molto raffinata di razzismo condominiale che non ha bisogno di dichiararsi, gli basta dichiararsi amante della pulizia. E guai a contestarla perché qui nessuno ce l’ha con gli stranieri, ci mancherebbe. Si pretende soltanto quel rispetto che sembra viaggiare sempre in una sola direzione, dal più debole verso il più forte. Quei ragazzi hanno attraversato confini, lasciato famiglie, affrontato solitudini che molti adulti non saprebbero reggere per una settimana. Ma la loro colpa imperdonabile è aver appoggiato una mano su un vetro. Non si chiede di tollerare la sporcizia, si chiede di distinguere tra educare e mortificare, tra insegnare il rispetto e pretendere la sottomissione. Soprattutto, si chiede di smettere di trattare dei ragazzi come ospiti indesiderati che devono scusarsi continuamente per il semplice fatto di esistere. Perché il vero problema, temo, non sia l’impronta. È che quei ragazzi lasciano tracce, si vedono, vivono lo spazio. Ricordano al condominio che il mondo non finisce sulla passerella rossa e questo, evidentemente, è intollerabile. L’alone sparirà alla prossima passata di detergente. La puzza di superiorità morale, invece, continuerà a salire dal cavedio. E quella, purtroppo, non la leva nemmeno l’impresa di pulizie.