Sunday, May 15, 2011

Becoming Jane and Becoming Jane Austen .

Men always disappoint us. They find some way to hurt and humiliate us, even their love feels like a cage at times, and you are forever assaulted by them – both emotionally and physically. Their reactions seldom please us , for we nearly always expect something other than what they just did. Love is a flight of fancy , a throwing of caution to the winds for a woman , whereas for a man , it is possession , a hunt , a chase – culminating in devouring and territorial validification .

Yet , somehow , inspite of knowing all this and more – every man that challenges us in any way , finds his way to our hearts – we find ourselves forgiving them , falling for the wrong things , and washing down memories we thought we will never ever forget – forgiving , forgetting , and speeding along on that downward spiral that love , attraction and infatuation is.

Every time I see Becoming Jane , I find a little piece of my heart breaking. The scoundrel that Tom Lefroy is , my heart still pines for him , as he asks for a reading for his daughter. I keep thinking to myself , why could they not get married – why does a love which could have been so fulfilling die ? why is he such a scoundrel ? why is he not stronger than she is ?

Men hardly ever are.

But then , maybe , had he not been what he was , we would not have had Mr Darcy – the imperfect loving man , who will love you , as much he can , and the gods will make you wanting in just that amount of love that he provides.

Maybe , to be an Austen – you need to remain an Austen , and live by your pen . Maybe ,greatness can only be achieved if we live divorced from matrimony.

In this existence , men come as imperect creatures , leaving you disappointed , telling you lies , and you perfect them , with your pen – talking about things that could have happened, and did happen – where the lands were fertile and men not so infirm as they are in the real world – in the world of words and in the world of your dreams .

No comments: