Sunday, November 08, 2009

Li kissirtu sewwu

Il-każ Vella Gera, kif qed insejjaħlu jien, ta lok li toħroġ fid-dieher ċertu tip ta’ oxxenità grassa li żgur m’għandhiex titħalla terfa’ rasha fil-pajjiż. Kienu bosta dawk li b’dal-każ ħassewhom urtati, u ma nlumhomx, għax dak li tkisser mhux lakemm jissewwa.

Qed nirreferi għall-pubblikazzjoni, fil-gazzetta studenteska Ir-Realtà, tan-novella pjuttost spinta Li Tkisser Sewwi, miktuba mill-awtur Malti Alex Vella Gera. L-istorja, irrakkontata fl-ewwel persuna, tikkonsisti f’sensiela ta’ ħsibijiet skjetti ta’ raġel b’ossessjonijiet ħormana akuti li fin-nisa ma jara xejn għajr mezz ta’ sodisfazzjoni sesswali.

Mingħajr ma noqgħod nidħol f’ġudizzji morali fuq il-karattru tan-narratur, ngħid li l-istorja kienet biċċa xogħol artistika tajba ħafna. Vella Gera rnexxielu jippreżenta l-arketip tiegħu f’kuntest Malti b’mod konvinċenti ħafna. Kien hemm min ilmenta minħabba l-użu ta’ “kliem baxx.” Nistaqsi jien: liema kliem ħtieġlu jpoġġi f’ħalq in-narratur biex joħroġlu t-tendenzi partikulari tiegħu? F’dal-kuntest, id-diskors tan-narrattiva bilfors kellu jkun dak li kien.
Apparti dan, jidhirli li fil-karattru tiegħu l-awtur xeħet b’ħila ċerta ambigwità psikoloġika li, imqar jekk biss bejn il-linji, tfakkarna fit-taqbida primordjali bejn l-istinti karnali u ċerti sentimenti emozzjonali li ilha tkidd lill-ġeneru uman, u mhux biss lill-irġiel, minn ewl id-dinja. Fl-istorja ta’ Vella Gera, altru milli xi fakkinata, allura, nidentifika qabelxejn taqbida fl-inkonxju kollettiv li qatt ma tista’ tbassar sewwasew fejn hi sejra. Hemm ħafna x’wieħed jgħid, imma dwar dan nieqaf hawn, għax mhux l-iskop tiegħi li nagħmel analiżi tan-novella. Madankollu nżid biss li fil-fehma tiegħi l-pubblikazzjonijiet riċenti ta’ Alex Vella Gera jixhdu li huwa wieħed mill-iżjed kittieba Maltin promettenti tal-ġenerazzjoni tiegħu.

Lura għal x’ġara fuq il-kampus, qiegħed jingħad li din l-istorja ma niżlet tajjeb xejn mal-kappellanija tal-Università, tant li l-kritiċi letterarji tagħha kienu tal-ġudizzju li mhux xieraq li materjal bħal dak jitqassam fuq il-kampus. Ir-Rettur tal-Università, il-Professur Juanito Camilleri, minn tant nies, donnu kien tal-istess fehma, għax minnufih ħareġ ordni ta’ projbizzjoni fuq it-tqassim ta’ dan il-ġurnal fuq il-kampus. Biex tgħaxxaqha, fil-każ dlonk iżżefnu wkoll il-Pulizija, u ma trid xejn biex fil-ġejjieni qrib dan il-każ jispiċċa wkoll il-Qorti.

Li f’pajjiż retrogradu bħal tagħna jqum daqsxejn kjass fuq storja bħal din fiha u ma fihiex. Tajjeb li nfakkru li dan ma kienx l-ewwel każ ta’ ċensura li ġiet infurzata bil-barka tal-awtoritajiet tal-Università ta’ Malta. Naħseb kulħadd għadu jiftakar il-każ ta’ Karl Schembri. Iżda jkolli nistqarr illi qatt ma bsart li din il-biċċa kienet ser tiskala daqshekk. U jekk f’dil-farsa kien hemm xi ħaġa tabilħaqq oxxena ma kinitx l-istorja inkwistjoni, iżda dil-ħamba għalkollox mhux f’lokha li tqajmet dwarha. Oxxentià, ma tistax tiddeskriviha mod ieħor.

U allura bir-raġun li jiena l-ewwel wieħed inħossni urtat. U m’iniex qed ngħid dan biss b’riferenza għall-aġir tal-Kappillan u tar-Rettur tal-Università, iżda wkoll għad-diversi persuni bravi ħafna li fis-siti ta’ xi ġurnali lokali bl-Ingliż esprimew ġudizzju negattiv għalkollox dwar il-merti artistiċi tan-novella u saħansitra dwar l-integrità morali tal-awtur.

Naraha ħaġa tassew tal-għaġeb kif f’pajjiż ibbumbardjat minn ħemel ta’ mezzi tal-midja, fostna għad hawn nies – inklużi studenti Universitarji u persuni suppost kolti b’karigi għolja fil-ġerarkija akkademika tal-pajjiż – li lanqas biss jafu jagħmlu distinzjoni bejn narrattiva artistika u fehma personali ta’ individwu. Tant hu hekk, li bosta persuni, kif ġa għedt, ħarġu jeħduha qatta’ bla ħabel kontra l-awtur innifsu u ma nafx x’ma qalulux.

Li kieku Vella Gera kiteb artiklu f’ġurnal bħala opinjonista, u stqarr li “n-nisa, fis-sess isiru dak li misshom dejjem ikunu [...] Jirċievu [...] xogħolhom jirċievu u jaqilgħu mir-raġel,” kont ngħid paċenzja. Ma kont niskanta xejn li kumment miktub f’tali kuntest jitqies offesniv u politikament skorrett. Iżda f’dal-każ m’aħniex nitkellmu dwar fehma personali, iżda dwar narrazzjoni tal-għaġna psikoloġika ta’ karattru għalkollox fittizju.

Tassew nistqarr magħkom li għadni s’issa ma nistax nemmen li hawn daqstant nies illi lanqas għandhom edukazzjoni biżżejjed biex jintebħu bid-differenza evidenti ta’ bejn dawn it-tnejn. U allura lil dawn it-talin ser ikolli nistaqsihom xi domandi stupidi: jekk direttur ċinematografiku jidderieġi film dwar qattiel reċediv, allura dan bilfors ikun ifisser li d-direttur ikun qed jidentifika miegħu? Meta l-attriċi Sharon Stone ħadmet fil-film Basic Instinct kellha xi ħsieb tinstiga l-vjolenza fiżika fuq l-irġiel? Meta Mel Gibson idderieġa l-Passion of the Christ, xi ħadd f’sensih qatt għaddietlu minn rasu li kien qed jiċċelebra l-vjolenza fuq il-persuna ta’ Kristu? Ma naħsibx, jew aħjar, nittama li le. Ngħid is-sew, jien u nikteb dan qed inħossni kemxejn ridikolu, għax kif jgħid il-Malti, ir-raġuni ma tridx forza, u affarijiet bħal dawn tant huma ovvji li lanqas naf kif ser naqbad inpoġġihom. Għaldaqstant nitlobkom tiskużawni ta’ dil-artiklu sfurzat, iżda ir-raġuni ma tridx forza, veru, imma l-bluha forsi iva.

Lil hinn minn dir-redikolaġni, hemm punti oħrajn x’wieħed iqis. Qabelxejn, fil-fehma tiegħi, bil-pożizzjoni li ħa, il-Professur Juanito Camilleri għamel tmasħira liema bħalha mill-kariga tiegħu ta’ Rettur. Fil-fehma tiegħi b’dan l-aġir aktarx impulsiv waqqa’ l-pożizzjoni tiegħu u l-istituzzjoni li jmexxi għaż-żuffjett. Li l-Kappillan jiskrupla bit-tebgħ tal-istorja ta’ Vella Gera forsi nasal naċċettaha. Hekk jew b’hekk, f’dan-naħat tad-dinja għad trid tinħoloq istituzzjoni daqstant erotofobika u sesswalment ripressa daqs il-Knisja Kattolika. Iżda lanqas f’mitt sena ma kont nobsor li kellu jkun proprju r-Rettur, minn tant nies, li jieħu ċerti miżuri li f’għajnejja juru nuqqas kbir ta’ għarfien letterarju u nuqqas ta’ rispett lejn il-libertà tal-espressjoni artistika.

U għalhekk għandi diversi mistoqsijiet oħra x’nagħmel f’dar-rigward: jaf ir-Rettur li din ma kinitx l-ewwel biċċa letteratura spinta li ġiet ippubblikata f’pajjiżna? Jaf ir-Rettur li l-kampus tal-Università huwa ffrekwentat biss mill-adulti? Jaf ir-Rettur li xogħlijiet letterarji ta’ dak il-ġeneru, uħud minnhom meqjusin bħala klassiċi letterarji, illum wieħed jista’ jakkwistahom bla taħbit ta’ xejn mill-ħwienet tal-kotba lokali u saħansitra, terġa’, mil-libreriji tal-Università li huwa jmexxi? Jaf ir-Rettur li fis-sillabi tal-istudji letterarji, kemm f’livell avvanzat u f’livell ta’ baċellerat, jiġu studjati kittieba grafiċi u espliċiti? Jaf ir-Rettur f’liema sena qed ngħixu llum? Nixtieq nemmen li iva, imma tassew ma jidhirlix, għax kieku r-Rettur kien konxju minn dan kollu, ma naħsibx li kien ser jieħu pożizzjoni li b’xorti ħażina tfakkarna fil-persekuzzjonijiet kbar li għaddew minnhom kittieba spinti ċelebri bħal Jean-Paul Sarte, Henry Miller u D.H. Lawrence għexieren kbar ta’ snin ilu.

U għandi nifhem ukoll li kull min esprima xi appoġġ għall-projbizzjoni tat-tqassim fuq il-kampus tal-ġurnal Ir-Realtà għadu mingħalih, jew inkella forsi jixtieq, li llum għadna fir-realtà ta’ żmien Ġużè Ellul Mercer. Iżda ħabat li mhux talli m’għadniex fit-tletinijiet, talli llum, tajjeb jew ħażin, aħna membri sħaħ tal-Unjoni Ewropea. Iżda fid-dawl ta’ din l-istorja kollha, kemm tassew nistgħu ngħidu li pajjiżna “daħal fl-Ewropa?” Jien pjuttost ngħid li, tal-inqas artistikament u intellettwalment, dħalna f’koma. U mhux ta’ b’xejn li f’dal-pajjiż qajla tiltaqa’ m’artist diċenti li jgħidlek li jħossu jagħmel parti mill-kontinent. Imma dwar dan aħjar tkellimna l-Ministru għall-Kultura Dolores Cristina, li ngħid għalija, għadni ma fhimtx eżatt x’inhu l-irwol rispettiv tagħha fil-kabinett.

Biex nagħlaq għandi stedina x’nagħmel lir-Rettur. Kemm-il darba r-Rettur ser jibqa’ jsostni li l-istorja ta’ Alex Vella Gera hija illegali, oxxena u mhux ta’ min tkun f’idejn l-istudenti, allura nistiednu jmur sal-libreriji tal-Università u tal-Junior College, kemm tal-kotba u kemm tal-films, u jiknishom minn kull xogħol artistiku li jkun sesswalment espliċitu. Konvint li jkollu xalata. B’hekk biss, jidhirli jien, jista’ jkun tassew konsistenti f’għemilu u konformi ma’ dawk il-liġijiet tabilħaqq skaduti li forsi setgħu kkonvinċewh jieħu l-passi li ħa.

Kemm-il darba l-Professur Juanito Camilleri jonqos milli jagħmel dan, allura ma tagħti tort lil ħadd li jispekula li wara dil-biċċa jaf ikun hemm motivazzjonijiet politiċi. Għax fis-sew assolutament ma tagħmilx sens li jkollok sitwazzjoni fejn wieħed jista’ jissellef ktieb “oxxen” mill-Università iżda mbagħad ma jkunx jista’ jipproduċi u jippubblika xogħol artistiku simili fuq il-kampus.

Fil-fehma tiegħi li l-aħjar soluzzjoni għal kulħadd hi li dil-projbizzjoni oxxena titneħħa u kollox imut fuq ommu. Ma narax mod ieħor kif forsi tista’ tinbidel ir-reputazzjoni xejn tajba li sar għandha din l-università fost kull min f’pajjiżna tassew jgħożż il-ħsieb liberu.

Jekk dan ma jseħħx, allura wisq nibża’ li jaf jinħoloq preċedent ikrah ħafna li jista’ jkollu konsegwenzi tabilħaqq gravi fuq l-espressjoni artistika ħielsa fil-pajjiż.

F’ġieħ is-sens komun, li kissirtu, sewwu.

(Dan l-artiklu deher fil-ġurnal It-Torċa ta' llum, Il-Ħadd 8 ta' Novembru, 2009.)

Mużika: The Red Telephone - Love
They're locking them up today, they're throwing away the key, I wonder who it'll be tomorrow, you or me?



Monday, October 19, 2009

Lament / Eleġija - Jim Morrison

Lament

Lament for my cock
Sore and crucified
I seek to know you
Aquiring soulful wisdom
You can open walls of mystery
Stripshow.

How to aquire death in the morning show
TV death which the child absorbs
Deathwell mystery which makes me write
Slow train, the death of my cock gives life.

Forgive the poor old people who gave us entry
Taught us God in the child's prayer in the night.

Guitar player
Ancient wise satyr
Sing your ode to my cock.

Caress its lament
Stiffen and guide us, we frozen
Lost cells,
The knowledge of cancer
To speak to the heart
And give the great gift:
Words--Power--Trance

This stable friend and the beasts of his zoo,
Wild haired chicks,
Women flowery in their summit,
Monsters of skin.
Each color connects
-------To create the boat
-----------Which rocks the race.
Could any hell be more horrible
-------------------than now
-------------------------and real?

I pressed her thigh and death smiled.

Death, old friend
Death and my cock are the world
I can forgive my injuries in the name of
Wisdom--Luxury--Romance

Sentence upon sentence
Words are the healing lament
For the death of my cock's spirit
Has no meaning in the soft fire
Words got me the wound and will get me well
If you believe it.

All join now and lament the death of my cock
A tounge of knowledge in the feathered night
Boys get crazy in the head and suffer
I sacrifice my cock on the alter of silence.




Eleġija

Eleġija għal żobbi
Maħsus u msallab
Infittex li nsir nafek
Int u tikseb għerf imqanqal
Ħitan ta’ misteru taf tiftaħ
Spettaklu ta’ nżigħ.

Kif iġġibha l-mewt fl-ispettaklu tal-matutin
Il-mewt fuq it-televixin li t-tifel jassorbi
Misteru ta’ bir il-mewt li jġegħilni nikteb
Tren kajman, il-mewta ta’ żobbi tagħti l-ħajja.

Aħfer ’il povri xwejħin illi daħħluna
Għallmin’Alla fit-talba notturna tat-tfal.

Daqqaq tal-kitarra
Satiru dehni tal-qedem
Kantalu l-ode tiegħek ’il żobbi.

Mellislu l-eleġija
Twebbes u mexxina, lilna s-silġin.
Ċelluli mitlufa,
L-għarfien tal-kankru
Biex titħaddet mal-qalb
U tagħti d-don il-kbir:
Kliem--Setgħa--Estasi

Dal-ħabib tal-istalla u l-bhejjem l’għandu fiż-żu,
Xebbiet xuxithom imħabbla,
Nisa jitfarfru fil-fjur ta’ ħajjithom,
Mostri tal-ġilda.
Kull lewn jorbot
------Ħalli jkewwen id-dgħajsa
---------------Li tħeġġeġ ir-razza.
Haw’ xi infern iżjed waħxi
------------------minn t’issa
-----------------------u ta’ veru?

Qbadtilha koxxtejha u l-mewt tbissmet.

O mewt, ja ħabibti
Il-mewt u żobbi huma d-dinja
Nasal naħfer l-inġurji tiegħi f’isem
L-Għerf--Il-Lussu--Is-Seduzzjoni

Sentenza wara sentenza
Il-kliem huma l-eleġija fejjieqa
Għax il-mewta tal-ispirtu ta’ żobbi
Tifsira fin-nar bati m’għandhiex
Il-kliem għamluli l-ġerħa u huma għad jaħjuni
Jekk temminha.

Issa ingħaqdu kollha bi ħġarkom ħa tibku l-mewta ta’ żobbi
Ilsien t’għarfien fil-lejl kollu rix
Iġġennu ja subien u oqogħdu hemm batu
Ser nissagrifika żobbi fuq midbaħ is-skiet.

Mużika: Lament - Jim Morrison



Sunday, September 13, 2009

Second Coming (Prometheus’ Lovesong)

“Prometheus stole fire from Zeus,” you said,
“and he lost his freedom as a punishment”.

But he earned his athanasia
in the communal mind of men,
as he set the world ablaze
for the ransom of us mortals,
a christlike figure amongst
our Greek forefathers
who bestowed the gift of reason upon me
and the gift of tragedy upon thee
through this blasphemous treason.

True, Prometheus stole fire from Zeus
and he lost his freedom as a punishment,
a befitting forfeiture for a Mātariśvan
who dared to defy the will of the gods.

But fret not,
as I can’t lose my freedom,
for I am freedom
and freedom is me,
sent here to resteal you
so that men again can see.

Mużika: Tell All The People - The Doors



Thursday, July 23, 2009

- Erostratus -
Storja ta’ Jean-Paul Sartre maqluba għall-Malti minn Kevin Saliba

(Erostrate dehret għall-ewwel darba fil-ġabra ta’ stejjer qosra Le Mur, li Jean-Paul Sartre kien ippubblika fl-1939.
Din il-verżjoni Franċiża tista’ titniżżel minn hawn.
Biex tniżżel u tistampa din it-traduzzjoni (mingħajr stampi) f’verżjoni word agħfas hawn.
Ħajr lil John Degiorgio għall-qari tal-provi. Ħajr ukoll lil Markus Schroder talli tani l-permess nuża xi ritratti ta’ xeni mill-film tiegħu Eróstrato.)



Il-bnedmin, trid tarahom mill-għoli. Kont nitfi d-dawl u nintefa’ mat-tieqa: lanqas biss kien ikollhom ħjiel li wieħed seta’ jgħajnashom mill-għoli. Jieħdu ħsieb in-naħa ta’ quddiem, minn xi daqqiet dik ta’ wara, iżda l-effetti kollha tagħhom huma meqjusa għal spettaturi ta’ madwar metru u sebgħin ċentimetru. Min qatt ħaseb dwar kif tidher l-għamla ta’ kappell tal-feltru mis-sitt sular? Jinsew jipproteġu spallejhom u rashom bi lwien qawwija u b’tessuti jgħammxu, ma jafux jissiltulu ’l dan l-għadu hekk kbir tal-Umanità: il-veduta mill-għoli. Kont nittawwal mit-tieqa ’l barra u naqbad nidħak: fejn kienet, mela, dil-famuża “qagħda dritta” li tant kellhom bokka biha: kienu jitgħattnu mal-bankina u żewġ riġlejn twal għoddhom imkaxkra kienu joħorġu minn taħt spallejhom.

Fil-gallerija tas-sitt sular: hemm kien messni qattajtha ħajti. Jeħtieġ li s-superjoritajiet morali jintrifdu b’simboli materjali, inkella jaqgħu. Iżda sewwasew, x’superjorità għandi fuq il-bnedmin? Superjorità fil-qagħda, xejn iżjed: poġġejt lili nnifsi ’l fuq mill-uman ta’ ġo fija u noqgħod niflih. Huwa proprju għalhekk li kont inħobb it-torrijiet ta’ Notre Dame, il-pjattaformi tat-Torri Eiffel, is-Sacré-Cœur, is-sitt sular tiegħi fuq Triq Delambre. Dawn huma simboli mill-aqwa.

Ġieli kien ikolli nerġa’ ninżel fit-toroq. Biex immur l-uffiċċju, ngħidu aħna. Kont naqta’ nifsi. Meta tkun fl-istess livell tal-bnedmin, hija ferm iżjed iebsa li tgħoddhom b’nemel: iqanqluk. Darba rajt wieħed mejjet fit-triq. Kien ħadha għal wiċċu. Dawruh wiċċu ’l fuq, kien infaġar. Rajtlu għajnejh mifuħin, u l-bixra mwerrċa, u dak id-demm kollu. Bejni u bejn ruħi għedt: “Din mhi xejn, mhix iżjed kommoventi minn daqsxejn żebgħa friska. Żebgħulu mnieħru bl-aħmar, dak kollox.” Iżda f’riġlejja u f’għonqi ħassejt ħlewwa ta’ qalb tqażżek u tani mejt. Ħaduni fi spiżerija, tawni daqqtejn bil-keff fuq spallejja u sqewni xi alkoħol. Kont nasal noqtolhom.

Kont naf li kienu l-għedewwa tiegħi, imma huma ma kinux jafu. Bejniethom kienu jinħabbu, kienu jibqgħu qaqoċċa; u lili, xi daqqa t’id ’l hemm jew ’l hawn kienu jagħtuhieli, għax kienu jaħsbuni wieħed bħalhom. Iżda li kieku kellhom ixommu mqar l-iċken nitfa mill-verità kienu jsawtuni. Hekk jew hekk, dak li għamlu, wara. Meta qabduni u fehmu min kont, bambluli xebgħa xebgħun; fl-għassa tal-pulizija bektuni għal sagħtejn sħaħ, tawni bil-ħarta u bil-ponn, ilwewli driegħi, ċarrtuli l-qalziet u fl-aħħarnett xeħtuli n-nuċċali fl-art u jien u nfittxu, għarkupptejja b’idejja mal-art, bdew jidħku u jfajruli bis-sieq ġo sormi. Dejjem bsart li kienu ser jispiċċaw isawtuni: b’saħħti m’iniex u nistax niddefendi ruħi. Uħud minnhom kienu ilhom ħafna għassa tiegħi: dawk il-kbar. Fit-triq kienu jibqgħu deħlin fija, biex jidħku, ħalli jaraw x’kont ser nagħmel. Ma kont ngħid xejn. Kont nagħmel tabirruħi li ma fhimtx. Imma minkejja dan, għamluhieli. Kont nipprendihom lilhom: kienet bħal teħbira. Imma emmnuni, kelli raġunijiet iżjed serji l-għala nistmerrhom.

Inkwantu dil-biċċa xogħol, kollox mar ferm aħjar minn dakinhar illi xtrajt pistola. Tħossok b’saħħtek meta ġġorr fuqek, b’mod tenaċi, xi ħaġa li tista’ tisplodi u tagħmel il-ħoss. Kont neħodha miegħi l-Ħadd, kont sempliċement inpoġġiha fil-qalziet u mmur nimxi – is-soltu fit-toroq prinċipali. Kont inħossha ġġebbidli fil-qalziet bħal xi granċ, kont inħossha ma’ koxxti, kiesħa silġ. Iżda bil-qajla l-qajla kienet tisħon tmiss ma’ ġismi. Kont nimxi b’ċerta ebusija, kelli x-xeħta ta’ wieħed b’ġismu mqajjem li żobbu kien qed iwaqqfu ma’ kull pass li jagħmel. Kont inżellaq idi fil-but u mmiss l-oġġett. Minn ħin għal ieħor kont nidħol f’xi mibwel – anke hemmhekk kont noqgħod b’seba’ għajnejn għax spiss kien ikolli l-ġirien – kont noħroġ il-pistola, kont inħossilha l-piż, inħares lejn il-maqbad biċ-ċangaturi suwed u l-grillu iswed qisu għajn nofsha mbexxqa. L-oħrajn, dawk li kienu jaraw, minn hemm barra, riġlejja miftuħin u l-qalza tal-qalziet, kien ikun mingħalihom li qed inbul. Imma jien fl-imbiewel ma nbul qatt.

Lejla minnhom għaddietli minn rasi li nispara fuq in-nies. Kien is-Sibt filgħaxija, ħriġt biex ngħaddi għal Lea, waħda bjonda li toqgħod titlajja bi dritt lukanda fi Triq Montparnasse. Qatt ma kelli x’naqsam ma’ mara: kont inħossni misruq kieku qatt kelli. Tirkibhom, veru minn daqshekk, iżda jdexxulek taħt żaqqek kollu b’dak ħalqhom kbir muswaf u, skont ma smajthom jgħidu, huma proprju huma li jmorru minn fuq f’dil-affari kollha, u fil-wisa’. Jiena ma nitlob xejn m’għand ħadd, iżda ma rrid nagħti xejn lanqas. Jew inkella nkun neħtieġ xi mara bierda u bigotta li toqgħodli għal kollox b’sentiment ta’ diżgust. Kull l-ewwel Sibt tax-xahar kont nitla’ ma’ Lea f’kamra tal-Hôtel Duquesne. Hija kienet tinża’, u jien kont noqgħod inħares lejha bla ma mmissha. Xi drabi kienet tiġini weħidha fil-qalziet; drabi oħra kien ikolli l-ħin immur niżvoga d-dar. Dak il-lejl ma sibthiex fil-post tas-soltu. Qgħadt nistenna għal ftit, u peress li ma rajthiex ġejja, issopponejt illi belgħet xi riħ. Kien il-bidu ta’ Jannar u kien qed jagħmel ħafna ksieħ. Iddejjaqt: jien tfantis waħdi u kont diġà stħajjilt bi ħġari l-pjaċir li kelli nieħu dik l-għaxija. Kien hemm, xorta waħda, fi Triq d’Odessa, waħda smajra li kont innotajtha spiss, mara kemxejn avvanzata imma soda u mbaċċa: lili ma jdejquni xejn in-nisa avvanzati: meta jkunu mneżżgħin jidhru iżjed għarwenin mill-oħrajn. Iżda din ma kienet taf xejn dwar il-gosti tiegħi, u kont qed nitfantas xi ftit ngħidilha bihom hekk ċumm bumm. Barra dan jien ma nafdax nies ma nafhomx: dan-nisa ma trid xejn biex jaħbulek wara l-bieb xi wieħed ta’ qattagħni li mbagħad jixref fuqek ħabta u sabta u jeħodlok il-flus. Ikollok xorti jekk ma jilgħablekx ukoll xi daqqtejn ta’ ponn. Madankollu, dik il-lejla, ħassejt ċerta awdaċja, u qtajtha li ngħaddi sad-dar ħalli nġib il-pistola u mmur nittanta xortija.

Meta rsaqt lejn dil-mara, xi kwarta wara, kelli l-arma fil-but u ma kont qed nibża’ minn xejn. Mad-daqqa t’għajn mill-qrib kellha bixra pjuttost imċerċra. Kienet tagħti lemħa ’l-ġara ta’ quddiemi, mart is-sottuffiċjal tal-armata, u kont tassew kuntent għax kont ili għomor biex naraha għarwiena ’l dik. Meta żewġha ma jkunx hemm kienet tilbes bit-tieqa miftuħa, u mhux l-ewwel darba li qgħadt wara l-purtiera biex forsi nagħtiha xi qatgħa. Imma meta tbiddel kienet toqgħod dejjem fuq in-naħa warranija tal-kamra.

Fl-Hôtel Stella kamra vojta kien hemm waħda biss, fir-raba’ sular. Tlajna. Il-mara kienet tqila mhux ħażin u bdiet tieqaf ma’ kull tarġa biex tieħu n-nifs. Ħassejtni veru tajjeb: għandi ġismi magħlub iżda wtieq, minkejja ż-żaqq, u trid iżjed minn erba’ sulari biex taqtagħli nifsi. Fuq il-pjan tat-taraġ tar-raba’ sular il-mara waqfet tilheġ u poġġiet idha tal-lemin fuq qalbha. F’tax-xellug kellha ċ-ċavetta tal-kamra.

“X’telgħa din,” qalet hi u tipprova titbissimli. Ħadtilha ċ-ċavetta bla ma weġibt xejn u ftaħt il-bieb. Kont qed inżomm il-pistola b’idi x-xellugija, ippuntata ’l quddiem mill-but, u qabel ma xgħelt l-iswiċċ ma tlaqthiex. Il-kamra kienet vojta. Fuq is-sink kienu poġġew biċċa sapuna ħadra u kwadra, għall-ħasil. Tbissimt: jien niġi naqa’ u nqum mill-bidejiet u mill-biċċiet tas-sapun. Il-mara kienet għadha qed tilheġ warajja, u dil-ħaġa bdiet tqanqalni. Dort; hija ġebbditli xofftejha ’l barra. Jien imbottajtha.

“Inża’,” għedtilha.

Kien hemm pultruna tal-ġild; intfajt bilqiegħda komdu. F’mumenti bħal dawn jiddispjaċini li ma npejjipx. Il-mara neżgħet il-libsa u mbagħad waqfet, u tatni ħarsa dgħulija.

“X’jismek int?” għedtilha jien u nitmattar lura.

“Renée.”

“Sewwa, Renée, ħaffef. Qed nistenna.”

“M’intx ser tinża’ int?”

“Ejj’ejja”, għedtilha, “ħallik minni ħi.”

Niżżlet il-qalziet ta’ taħt sa saqajha, imbagħad ġabritu u poġġietu bil-galbu fuq il-libsa mar-reġġipettu.

“Allura int xi bugħażż hux, ħanini, wieħed kutu kieti?” staqsietni. “Trid il-mara toqgħod tagħmel ix-xogħol kollu hi?”

Fl-istess waqt għamlet pass lejja, u hija u sserraħħ idejha fuq driegħ il-pultruna, ipprovat tinżilli għarkupptejha bejn riġlejja bis-saħħa. Iżda qajjimtha bil-goff:

“Tagħmillix minn daw’, tagħmillix minn daw’,” għedtilha.

Ħarset lejja mistagħġba.

“Ħeqq, xi tridni nagħmillek mela?”

“Xejn. Imxi, ippassiġġa, ma rrid xejn iżjed minnek.”

Bdiet timxi ’l hawn u ’l hemm, b’bixra imbarazzata. Lin-nisa xejn ma jdejjaqhom iżjed milli joqogħdu jimxu għarwenin. Mhumiex imdorrija jpoġġu għarqubhom mal-art. Il-qaħba qawset dahra u telqet idejha jitbandlu. Jien kont fis-seba’ sema: hemm kont ninsab, poġġut trankwill fuq il-pultruna, imlibbes sa għonqi, sal-ingwanti żammejt fuqi, u bl-amar tiegħi dis-sinjura avvanzata kienet neżgħet għarwiena ħuta u kienet qiegħda ddur miegħi dawramejt.

Dawret rasha lejja, u biex issalva l-apparenza tbissmitli b’mod nejjieki:

“Tarani sabiħa lili eh? Qed titgħaxxaq bija hux?”

“Ħallik minn dan.”

“Isma’ għid,” staqsietni b’rabja ta’ f’daqqa, “biħsiebek tibqa’ tmexxini hekk ’l hawn u ’l hemm għal ħafna ħin?”

“Poġġi bilqiegħda.”

Poġġiet fuq is-sodda u qgħadna nħarsu lejn xulxin fis-skiet. Ġisimha kien imqajjem xewk xewk. Smajna t-tektik ta’ żveljarin min-naħa l-oħra tal-ħajt. F’daqqa waħda għedtilha:

“Iftaħ riġlejk.”

Eżitat sekonda, imbagħad obdiet. Ħarist bejn saqajha u ġbidt nifs ’il ġewwa. Imbagħad infqajt nidħak, tant li ħariġli d-dmugħ. Wara sempliċement għedtilha:

“M’intix tinduna għid?”

U erġajt qbadt nidħak.

Hija ħarset lejja, skantata, imbagħad ħmaret nar u għalqet riġlejha.

“Majjal,” qalet minn bejn snienha.

Iżda jien dħakt b’iżjed qawwa: allura qamet bilwieqfa f’salt u qabdet ir-reġġipettu minn fuq is-siġġu.

“Ejj hemm,” għedtilha, “għadni ma spiċċajtx. Ser intik ħamsin frank dalwaqt, imma rrid ingawdihom kollha tafx.”

Qabdet il-penti bin-nervi.

“Xbajt, qed tifhem?! Jien ma nafx xi trid int. U jekk tellajtni hawn fuq biex toqgħod titnejjek bija...”

Allura ħriġt il-pistola u wrjethielha. Ħarset lejja b’bixra serja u niżżlet il-penti bla ma qalet xejn.

“Imxi ejja,” għedtilha, “ippassiġġa isa.”



Imxiet ’l hemm u ’l hawn għal ħames minuti oħra. Imbagħad tajtha l-bastun tiegħi u ġegħeltha tagħmel xi eżerċizzji. Meta ħassejt li l-qalziet ta’ taħt tiegħi kien imxarrab, qomt minn hemm u newwiltilha karta ta’ ħamsin frank. Ħaditha.

“Saħħa,” żidt ngħid, “ma tantx kiddejtek wisq għal dal-prezz.”

Tlaqt ’l hemm, ħallejtha għarwiena laħam f’nofs il-kamra, bir-reġġipettu f’id waħda u bil-ħamsin frank fl-oħra. M’għalejt xejn għall-flus li nfaqt: kont bellahtha u qaħba mhux lakemm tgħaġġibha. Jien u nieżel it-taraġ ħsibt: “Dak li rrid jien, ngħaġġibhom kollha kemm huma.” Kont kuntent qisni tifel żgħir. Is-sapuna l-ħadra kont ħadtha miegħi, u meta wasalt id-dar, ħakkiktha kemm flaħt fil-misħun sakemm minnha ma kien għad fadal xejn ħlief pellikola rqajqa qisha xi ħelwa tal-menta li ntredgħet qatigħ.

Iżda bil-lejl qomt maħsud u erġajt rajt wiċċha, il-ħarsa t’għajnejha meta wrejtha l-arma, u ż-żaqq ħxajna li kellha tielgħa u nieżla ma’ kull pass li middet.

“Kemm kont ċuċ!” għedt bejni u bejn ruħi. U ħassejt rimors morr: kien messni sparajt fuqha la kont fiż-żifna, kont intaqqbilha żaqqha bħal passatur. Dak il-lejl u tul it-tlieta ta’ wara, ħlomt b’sitt tqajbiet ħomor imqiegħda f’ċirku madwar żokritha.

Minn hemm ’il quddiem ma ħriġtx iżjed mingħajr il-pistola. Kont inħares lejn dahar in-nies, u kont nistħajjel, mill-mixja tagħhom, il-mod kif kieku jaqgħu li kelli nispara fuqhom. Kont qbadt id-drawwa, ta’ kull nhar ta’ Ħadd, li mmur nintasab quddiem ix-Châtelet, x’ħin ikunu ħerġin in-nies mill-kunċerti tal-mużika klassika. Għall-ħabta tas-sitta kont nisma’ qanpiena ddoqq, u l-uxxiera kienu jiġu jsakkru l-bibien tal-ħġieġ bil-ganġetti. Dak kien ikun il-bidu: il-folla kienet ħierġa bil-mod il-mod; in-nies kienu mexjin b’passi mperpra, b’għajnejhom għadhom mimlija ħolm, b’qalbhom għadha mimlija b’sentimenti ħlejjin. Bosta kienu qed iħarsu madwarhom imgħaġġbin: aktarx it-triq kienet qed tidhrilhom kaħla nir. Imbagħad xiddu tbissima misterjuża: kienu għaddejjin minn dinja għal oħra. Kien proprju fl-oħra li kont qed nistenniehom jien. Żellaqt idi l-leminija fil-but u ħfint il-maqbad tal-pistola b’saħħti kollha. Wara ftit, kont qed nara lili nnifsi nispara fuqhom. Kont qiegħed inwaqqagħhom għal wiċċhom bħal brilli, kienu qed jaqgħu wieħed fuq l-ieħor, u dawk li kienu baqgħu ħajjin, kollhom paniku, kienu qed ibewġu lura lejn it-teatru u jkissru l-ħġieġ tal-bibien. Kienet logħba tabilħaqq imqanqla: fl-aħħar idejja bdew jirtogħdu, u kelli mmur nixrob konjak għand Dreher ħalli nerġa’ niġi f’tiegħi.

Lin-nisa ma kontx noqtolhom kieku. Kont nisparalhom fil-kliewi. Jew inkella fil-pexxun, ħalli nżeffinhom daqsxejn.

Ma kont għadni ddeċidejt xejn. Iżda kont qed nagħmel kollox daqslikieku d-deċiżjoni tiegħi kienet diġà ttieħdet. Bdejt billi ħadt ħsieb l-irqaqat iż-żgħar. Mort nitħarreġ f’gallerija tal-isparar, fil-fiera ta’ Denfert-Rochereau. Ma kellix xi riżultati tal-għaġeb, imma l-bnedmin joffrulek bersalli mdaqqsa, l-iżjed meta tisparalhom mill-qrib. Imbagħad bdejt naħdem fuq il-pubbliċità. Għażilt ġurnata meta l-kollegi kollha tiegħi kienu miġburin l-uffiċċju. Nhar ta’ Tnejn minnhom, filgħodu. Kont ningwalaha tajjeb magħhom, normalment, minkejja li ma stajtx għaliha li neħdilhom b’idhom. Kienu jneħħu l-ingwanti biex isellmulek; kellhom mod oxxen kif jgħarwnu idejhom, kif jaqilbu l-ingwanta u kif iżerżquha tul subgħajhom bil-mod il-mod, huma u jikxfu l-għera ħoxna u mkemmxa tal-pala t’idhom. Jien kont nibqa’ dejjem bl-ingwanti.

It-Tnejn filgħodu ftit li xejn kien ikollna xogħol. It-tajpista tas-servizz kummerċjali ġiet iġġibilna l-irċevuti. Lemercier iċċajta magħha bil-ħlewwa, u meta telqet l-oħrajn bdew jelenkaw il-faxxini tagħha b’kompetenza bierda. Imbagħad qabduha fuq Lindbergh. Jogħġobhom dan Lindbergh. Jien għedtilhom:

“Lili l-eroj is-suwed jogħġbuni.”

“In-Nigri?” staqsa Massé.

“Le, suwed fis-sens ta’ ngħidu aħna Maġija Sewda. Lindbergh eroj abjad. Lili ma jinteressanix dak.”

“Jekk hu faċli, ara tmurx taqsmu int l-Atlantiku, buli,” qal Bouxin b’ton aspru.

Spjegajtilhom l-idea tiegħi tal-eroj iswed:

“Anarkist mela,” kompla Lemercier.

“Le,” għedt bil-kalma, “l-anarkisti jħobbu l-bnedmin bil-mod tagħhom.”

“Allura xi wieħed miġnun.”

Imma Massé, li huwa kolt, indaħal dak il-ħin:

“Nafu t-tip tiegħek,” qalli. “Jismu Erostratus. Ried isir famuż u ma kien sab xejn aħjar milli jaħraq it-tempju t’Efesu, wieħed mis-seba’ għeġubijiet tad-dinja.”

“U x’kien jismu l-perit ta’ dat-tempju?”

“M’għadx għandi amment,” stqarr hu, “naħseb ħadd ma jafu ismu.”

“Tassew? Imma l-isem Erostratus tiftakru hux? Rajtx, ma marx xagħwiet sa barra mela.”



Dit-taħdita ntemmet b’dan il-kliem, iżda kont veru kalm; kellhom jiftakruha fil-mument opportun. Lili, li sa dakinhar qatt ma kont smajt b’Erostratus, l-istorja tiegħu qawwietli qalbi. Kien ilu iżjed minn elfejn sena mejjet, u għemilu kienu għadu jibbrilla bħal djamant iswed. Bdejt nemmen li d-destin tiegħi kellu jkun qasir u traġiku. Għall-ewwel dil-ħaġa kexkxitni, iżda mbagħad drajtha. Jekk wieħed iħares lejha minn banda jaraha tal-biża’, iżda minn band’oħra, lill-mument għaddieni din tagħtih qawwa u sbuħija notevoli. Meta kont ninżel fit-toroq f’ġismi kont inħoss saħħa stramba. Fuqi kien ikolli l-pistola, dil-ħaġa li tispara u li tagħmel il-ħoss. Iżda ma kienx iżjed minnha li kont qed nieħu s-sikurezza, iżda minni nnfisi: kont essri tal-ispeċi tal-pistoli, tal-murtali jew tal-bombi. Jien ukoll, xi darba, fi tmiem ta’ din ħajti mqita, għad nisplodi u ndawwal lid-dinja bi fjamma vjolenti u qasira daqs leħħa tal-manjeżju. Seħħli, dik il-ħabta, li jkolli l-istess ħolma diversi ljieli. Kont anarkist. Intfajt fi triq il-kżar u fuqi kont qed inġorr magna infernali. Fis-siegħa miftiehma, għadda l-korteo, il-bomba splodiet u nbżaqna fl-ajru, jien, il-kżar u t-tliet uffiċjali mberfla bid-deheb, quddiem għajnejn il-folla.

Issa kont ili ma nidher l-uffiċċju ġimgħat sħaħ. Kont immur nippassiġġa fit-toroq prinċipali qalb il-vittmi futuri tiegħi, jew inkella ningħalaq f’kamarti u noqgħod infassal il-pjanijiet. Tawni s-sensja fil-bidu t’Ottubru. Allura qbadt ngħaddi ħini nikteb din l-ittra, li bħalha għamilt mitt kopja u tnejn:

“Sinjur,
Int persuna magħrufa u l-kotba tiegħek jinbiegħu bl-eluf. Ħallini ngħidlek għaliex: dan għax int tħobb il-bnedmin. Għandek l-umaniżmu fid-demm: tassew xortik tajba int. Meta tkun man-nies wiċċek jieħu d-dawl; appena tkun ma’ xi wieħed bħalek, anke jekk ma tkunx tafu, tħoss simpatija għalih. Tiggostalu ġismu, il-mod kif ikun magħqud, riġlejh li jinfetħu u jingħalqu meta jrid, u fuq kollox idejh: togħġbok din li jkollu ħamest iswaba’ f’kull id u li jkun jista’ jipponta behmu lejn is-swaba’ l-oħra. Titgħaxxaq meta dak ta’ maġenbek jaqbad kikkra minn fuq il-mejda, għax il-mod kif jaqbadha jkun uman għalkollox u min jaf kemm-il darba ddeskrivejtu fil-kotba tiegħek; huwa inqas flessibbli, inqas għaġġieli minn dak ta’ xadina, iżda ferm iżjed intelliġenti, mhux hekk? Fil-bniedem tħobb ukoll il-laħam, il-mixja ta’ midrub gravi fi triqtu lejn ir-riabilitazzjoni, dik l-arja ta’ xi ħadd li qed jivvinta l-mixi mill-ġdid ma’ kull pass li jagħmel, u dik il-ħarsa famuża li l-bhejjem selvaġġi ma jġerrgħuhiex. Għaldaqstant kien faċli għalik li ssib l-aċċent konvenjenti biex tkellem lill-bniedem dwaru nnifsu: aċċent modest iżda mqanqal. In-nies jintefgħu fuq il-kotba tiegħek b’ċerta regħba, jaqrawhom fuq xi pultruna komda, joqogħdu jaħsbu fuq dik l-imħabba kbira mnikkta u rżina li ġġibilhom, u dana jagħtihom il-faraġ għal ħafna xorti, talli jkunu koroh, talli jkunu ġwejfa, talli jkunu kornuti, talli ma jkunux ħadu ż-żieda fl-ewwel ta’ Jannar. U dwar l-aħħar ktieb tiegħek, bil-qalb kollha jgħidu: din azzjoni tajba.

“Nimmaġina li għandek kurżità tkun taf x’jista’ qatt ikun bniedem illi ma jħobbx il-bnedmin. Sewwa wisq, jiena wieħed minnhom, u tant ma nħobbhomx li ser immur noqtol nofs tużżana minnhom ma ndumx: għandek imnejn tistaqsi: imm’għala nofs tużżana biss? Għax il-pistola tiegħi għandha sitt skrataċ biss. Mostrożità din, hux? U barra minn hekk, dan hu att tabilħaqq bla dehen, hux hekk? Iżda jiena ngħidlek li ma nistax inħobbhom. Dak li tħoss int nifhmu sew. Iżda dak illi tħobb fihom int lili jqallagħni. Bħalek, jien rajt bnedmin jomogħdu bil-mod waqt li jżommu għajnejhom attenti, huma u jqallbu rivista ekonomika b’idhom ix-xellugija. Għandi xi tort jien jekk nippreferi nara l-ikliet tal-foki? Il-bniedem b’wiċċu ma jista’ jagħmel xejn bla ma jispiċċa f’logħba tal-fiżjonomija. Meta jomgħod b’ħalqu mitbuq, l-irkejjen ta’ ħalqu jitilgħu ’l fuq u jinżlu ’l isfel, donnu jkun għaddej bla heda mis-serenità għal sorpriża mbikkma. Din togħġbok lilek, naf, int issibha bħala l-viġilanza tal-Ispirtu. Imma lili ddardarni; l-għaliex ma nafx, hekk twelidt jien.

“Li bejnietna ma kien hemm xejn għajr differenza fil-gosti kieku jien ma kont inħanfsek xejn. Imma kollox jiġri bħalkieku inti qiegħed fi stat ta’ grazzja mentri jiena le. Jien liberu li nħobb jew nobgħod l-awwista l’Amerikana, imma jekk ma nħobbx il-bnedmin, allura jiena wieħed miżerabbli u l-ebda miżbla ma tridni. Is-sens tal-ħajja kkapparrawh għalihom. Nittama li qed tifhem xi rrid ngħid. Issa ilni tlieta u tletin sena naħbat ma’ bibien mitbuqa li fuqhom ikollhom miktub: “Ma jidħol ħadd li mhux umanist.” Kulma kont dħalt għalih kelli nitilqu ħesrem; kien jeħtieġli nagħżel: jew kien xi tentattiv assurd u misħut jew inkella llum jew għada kellu jinbidel fi gwadann għalihom. Dawk il-ħsibijiet li ma kontx naħsibhom b’mod espliċitu għalihom, kieku qatt irnexxieli nbegħedhom minni, nifformulahom: kienu jibqgħu hemm ġo fija bħal taħrikiet ħfief u organiċi. Saħansitra l-għodod li kont ninqeda bihom kont inħosshom tagħhom; il-kliem perkażu: xtaqt kliem li jkunu tiegħi. Iżda dawk li ninqeda bihom jien tnikkru f’min jaf kemm-il kuxjenza; jissawru f’rasi minn jeddhom skont id-drawwiet li qabdu m’għand ħaddieħor, u ara taħseb illi jien u niktiblek qed nużahom bla stmerrija ta’ xejn. Iżda did-darba kienet tal-aħħar. Ħa ngħidlek: jeħtieġ tħobbhom il-bnedmin, inkella jkollok xorti jekk iħalluk tilgħab tal-ors. Imsomma, jiena ma rridx noqgħod nilgħab tal-ors. Sejjer naqbad il-pistola dalwaqt, ser ninżel fit-triq u ser nara daqsxejn jekk tistax issir xi ħaġa kontra tagħhom. Saħħa Sinjur, għandu mnejn ikun proprju miegħek li niltaqa’. Jekk ikun hekk, ma ssir taf qatt imbagħad b’liema pjaċir inkun tajjartlek rasek. Jekk le – bħal m’aktarx jiġri – aqra waħda l-gazzetti t’għada. Fihom għandek tara li tizju jismu Paul Hilbert mar qatel, waqt dagħdigħa, ħamsa min-nies li nzertaw għaddejja mill-Boulevard Edgar-Quinet. Ħadd daqsek ma jafu l-valur tal-proża tal-ġurnali ta’ kuljum. Għandek tifhem, imbagħad, li m’iniex “imdagħdagħ.” Anzi, ninsab kalm ħafna u nitolbok tilqa’, Sinjur, l-isbaħ tislijiet tiegħi.”

Paul Hilbert

Daħħalt il-mitt kopja u tnejn f’mitt envelop u tnejn, u fuq l-envelops ktibt l-indirizzi ta’ mitt kittieb Franċiż u tnejn. Imbagħad, tfajthom kollha fil-kexxun tal-mejda flimkien ma’ sitt kotba bolol.

Tul il-ħmistax ta’ wara barra ħriġt ftit li xejn, tħallejt ninħakem bil-qajla l-qajla mid-delitt tiegħi. Fil-mera, fejn ġieli kont immur inħares, kont ninnota il-bidliet ta’ wiċċi bi pjaċir. Għajnejja kibru, kienu qed jibilgħuli wiċċi kollu. Kienu suwed u teneri taħt in-nuċċali, u kont indawwarhom bħal pjaneti. Għajnejn sbieħ t’artist u t’assassin.



Imma fija kont nistenna bidliet ferm iżjed fil-fond wara t-twettiq tal-massakru. Rajt ir-ritratti ta’ daż-żewġ xebbiet sbieħ, dawk iż-żewġ sefturi li kienu qatlu u serqu l-padruni tagħhom. Rajt ir-ritratti tagħhom, ta’ kif kienu qabel u ta’ kif saru wara.



Qabel, wiċċhom kien jitbennen bħal fjuri għaqlija fuq għenuq illamtati tal-pikè. Kienu jrejħu l-iġjene u onestà li tiftaħlek l-aptit. Ħadida diskreta kienet ġegħdetilhom xagħarhom pariġġ. U – iżjed rassikuranti minn xagħarhom innokklat, minn għenuqhom u mill-bixra ta’ tnejn li qegħdin għand il-fotografu – kien hemm ix-xebh ta’ żewġ aħwa, xebh tabilħaqq qawwi, li dlonk joħroġ fid-dieher ir-rabtiet tad-demm u l-għeruq naturali tal-grupp tal-familja.



Wara, wiċċhom kien jiddi bħal ħuġġieġa nar. Kellhom l-għonq għeri ta’ tnejn sejrin għall-qtugħ ir-ras. Tikmix kullimkien, tikmix iwaħħax ta’ mibegħda u biża’, tinjiet, toqob fil-ġilda bħal donnu xi bhima kollha dwiefer kienet qagħdet iddur mejt fuq wiċċhom. U dawk l-għajnejn, dawk l-għajnejn dejjem suwed u bla qiegħ – bħal tiegħi. U madankollu ma kienu baqgħu jixxiebhu xejn. Kull waħda kienet tixhed il-fakra tad-delitt komuni tagħhom bil-mod tagħha. “Jekk jibbasta,” għedt lili nnfisi, “delitt li sar fil-biċċa l-kbira b’ċikka, biex jibdel dawk l-uċuħ iltiema b’dal-mod, mela x’ma nistenniex minn delitt meqjus u organizzat għalkollox minni?” Dan kellu jippossedini, jaqlibli l-kruha hekk umana tiegħi ta’ taħt fuq... delitt, delitt li jaqta’ l-ħajja ta’ min jagħmlu f’biċċtejn. Għandu jkun hemm mumenti meta fihom tkun tixtieq terġa’ lura, imma jibqagħlek hemm, warajk, jimbarralek it-triq, dal-mineral ifexfex. Ma kont qed nitlob xejn għajr siegħa waħda biex ingawdi ’l tiegħi, biex inħoss il-piż tiegħu jisħaqni. Dis-siegħa kont ser inħejji kollox b’tali mod li tkun kollha tiegħi: għamilt f’rasi li l-eżekuzzjoni nagħmilha fil-parti ta’ fuq ta’ Triq d’Odessa. Kelli napprofitta mill-paniku sabiex inlebbet ’l hemm huma u jiġbru l-mejtin tagħhom mill-art. Kelli niġri, naqsam il-Boulevard Edgar-Quinet u ndur b’kemm nimxi għal Triq Delambre. Ma nkunx irrid aktar minn tletin sekonda biex nilħaq il-bieb tal-bini fejn noqgħod. Dak il-ħin, dawk li kellhom jiġu jfittxuni jkunu għadhom il-Boulevard Edgar-Quinet, il-passi tiegħi jkunu tilfuhom u jkunu jeħtieġu fuq siegħa fiż-żgur biex jerġgħu jsibuhom. Jiena noqgħod nistenniehom id-dar, u meta nismagħhom iħabbtuli l-bieb, nikkarga l-pistola u nispara ġo ħalqi.

Kont bdejt ngħix iżjed komdu; ftehimt ma’ fornitur tal-ikel minn Triq Vavin li kien jibgħatli bukkun tajjeb kull filgħodu u kull filgħaxija. Il-lavrant kien idoqq, imma jien ma kontx niftaħ. Kont nistenna xi ftit minuti, imbagħad inbexxaq il-bieb u nara platti mimlijin idaħħnu f’basket tawwali mqiegħed mal-art.

Fis-27 ta’ Ottubru, fis-sitta ta’ filgħaxija, kien fadalli sbatax-il frank u nofs. Qbadt il-pistola u l-pakkett tal-ittri, u nżilt ’l isfel. Qgħadt attent li ma nagħlaqx il-bieb, ħalli wara li nkun wettaqt il-kolp inkun nista’ nidħol ġewwa iżjed malajr. Ma kontx qed inħossni tajjeb, kelli idejja kesħin silġ u d-demm kien tiela’ għal rasi, għajnejja bdew jikluni. Ħarist lejn il-ħwienet, lejn l-Hôtel des Ecoles, lejn tal-gazzetti minn fejn nixtri l-lapsijiet, u m’għarafthomx. Kont qed ngħid lili nnifsi: “Xi triq hi din?” Il-Boulevard Montparnasse kien maħnuq bin-nies. Kienu qed jimbuttawni, jitfgħuni lura, jidħlu fija bil-minkeb jew bl-ispalla. Ħallejtni nintefa’ ’l hawn u ’l hemm, ma kellix saħħa niżgiċċa minn fosthom. F’ħin bla waqt rajt lili nnifsi qalb dil-kotra, orribilment waħdi u ċkejken. Kemm setgħu jweġġgħuni kieku riedu! Kont qed nibża’ minħabba l-arma li kelli fil-but. Deherli li kienu ser jintebħu li kienet qiegħda hemmhekk. Kieku, kienu jħarsuli b’għajnejn isawtu, kienu jgħidu: “Ħojj hemm... ħojj...!” b’korla kuntenta, jaħfnuni b’dawk l-idejn ta’ bnedmin. Minxur! Kienu jixħtuni għal fuq rashom u nerġa’ naqa’ f’dirgħajhom bħal pupazz. Qist li kien ikun iżjed għaqli jekk nipposponi l-eżekuzzjoni tal-pjan tiegħi għall-għada. Mort niekol għand La Coupole b’sittax-il frank u tmenin. Is-sebgħin ċenteżmu li kien fadalli xħetthom f’miżieb.

Qattajt tlett ijiem f’kamarti, bla kilt u rqadt. Kont għalaqt il-persjani u la ssograjt nersaq lejn it-tieqa u lanqas nixgħel id-dawl. Jum it-Tnejn, xi ħadd daqqli l-qanpiena tal-bieb. Żammejt in-nifs u qgħadt nistenna. Wara xi minuta reġa’ ċempel. Mort fuq ponot subgħajja nwaħħal għajni mat-toqba tas-serratura. Ma rajt xejn ħlief biċċa drapp sewda u buttuna. Reġa’ ċempel oħra u mbagħad niżel ’l isfel: min kien ma nafx. Billejl kelli viżjonijiet rinfreskanti, siġar tal-palm, ilma ġieri, sema vjola fuq koppla. Għatx ma kellix għax kull siegħa kont immur nixrob mill-vit tas-sink. Imma kelli l-ġuħ.



Erġajt rajt il-qaħba s-smajra. Dan kien f’kastell li kont bnejt fuq il-Causses Noires mili ’l bogħod minn kull villaġġ. Kienet għarwiena u weħidha miegħi. Ġegħeltha tinżel għarkupptejha u timxi fuq idejha mal-art bit-theddid tal-pistola tiegħi; imbagħad irbattha ma’ kolonna, u wara li fissirtilha fit-tul dak li kont ser nagħmel, imlejtha tilja ċomb. Dax-xeni tant skunċertawni li kelli mmur indoqqhomlu. Wara bqajt fid-dlam bla ma nitħarrek, b’rasi battala għalkollox. L-għamara bdiet tfaqqa’. Kienu l-ħamsa ta’ filgħodu. Ma nafx x’ma kontx nagħti biex nitlaq mill-kamra, iżda ma stajtx noħroġ għax kien hemm in-nies mexjin fit-triq.

Sebaħ il-jum. Ma kellix iżjed ġuħ, iżda beda jxoqq l-għaraq għalija: il-qmis ġibtha għasra. Barra kienet ix-xemx. Imbagħad ħsibt: “F’kamra magħluqa jinsab Hu, moħbi fi dlam ma tarax tidgħi. Tlett ijiem ilu ma jiekol u jorqod. Ċemplulu l-bieb, iżda Huwa ma fetaħx. Minn hawn u ftit ieħor, Huwa ser jinżel fit-triq u ser joqtol.” Kont qed inwerwer lili nnifsi. Fis-sitta ta’ filgħaxija reġa’ bini l-ġuħ. Kont imbegħren bir-rabja. Għal mument bqajt dieħel fl-għamara, imbagħad xgħelt id-dawl tal-kmamar, tal-kċina, tal-kamra tal-banju. Qbadt inkanta ngħajjat kemm niflaħ, ħsilt ħasla idejja u tlaqt ’il barra. Domt fuq żewġ minuti biex nimposta l-ittri fil-kaxxa. Bdejt indeffishom ’il ġewwa għaxra għaxra. Xi wħud minnhom kelli ngħaffiġhom. Imbagħad imxejt tul il-Boulevard Montparnasse sa Triq d’Odessa. Waqaft quddiem vetrina ta’ ħanut tal-qomos, u meta lmaħt wiċċi fiha ħsibt: “Għal-lejla.”

Intasabt fil-parti ta’ fuq ta’ Triq d’Odessa, tefgħa ta’ ġebla ’l bogħod minn fanal tat-triq, u qgħadt nistenna. Għaddew żewġ nisa. Kienu id f’id, il-bjonda kienet qed tgħid:

“Kienu poġġew xi twapet mat-twieqi kollha, u n-nobbli tal-pajjiż kienu qed jieħdu sehem fil-ġilwa.”

“Mela kienu bla flus?”

“M’hemmx għalfejn tkun bla flus biex taċċetta xogħol li jqallgħek ħames luwiġi kuljum.”

“Ħames luwiġi!” skantat is-samra. Hi u għaddejja minn maġenbi kompliet tgħid: “U mbagħad, nimmaġina li kienu jieħdu gost ixiddu l-kostumi tal-antenati tagħhom.”

Tbiegħdu. Kont qiegħed inħoss il-bard, imma kont qed negħreq qatigħ. Dikment rajt tlett irġiel ġejjin; ħallejthom jgħaddu: kelli bżonn sitta. Dak tax-xellug ħares lejja u ċaqċaq waħda lsienu. Jien dawwart ħarsti ’l hemm.

Fis-sebgħa u ħamsa, żewġ gruppi li kienu qed isegwu ’l xulxin mill-qrib feġġew mill-Boulevard Edgar-Quinet. Kien hemm raġel u mara ma’ żewġt itfal. Warajhom kienu ġejjin tliet nisa anzjani. Middejt pass ’il quddiem. Il-mara dehret irrabjata u bdiet tissossa lit-tifel minn driegħu. B’leħen mkarkar ir-raġel qal:

“X’uġigħ ta’ ras fih dal-imqarċaċ ukoll!”

Qalbi tant bdiet tħabbat illi qabdu juġgħuni dirgħajja. Imxejt ’il quddiem u qgħadt quddiemhom, immobbli. Subgħajja, fil-but, kienu rotob ħaxu madwar il-grillu.

“Skużani,” qal ir-raġel waqt li mbuttani.

Ftakart li kont għalaqt il-bieb tal-appartament, u dil-ħaġa fixlitni: kont ser nitlef ħin prezzjuż biex niftħu. In-nies tbiegħdu. Dort lura u qbadt insegwihom mekkanikament. Iżda l-aptit li nispara fuqhom kien telaqni. Intilfu fil-folla tal-bulevard. Mort nissiegħen mal-ħajt. Smajt it-tmienja jdoqqu u anke d-disgħa. Qgħadt intenni lili nniffsi: “Imm’għala għandi noqtol ’il dan-nies meta huma ġa mejtin?”, u kelli aptit nidħak. Ġie kelb ixammem ma’ saqajja.

Meta dak ir-raġel godli għadda minn biswiti, inħsadt u mort nitrod warajh. Kont qed naralu t-tinja tar-raqba ħamra bejn it-tomna u l-għonq tas-surtun. Kien qed jimxi daqsxejn imferċaħ u jieħu n-nifs bil-qawwi, kien jidher sod. Ħriġt il-pistola: kienet liemja u kiesħa, bdiet tqażżiżni, ma kontx qed niftakar sewwa x’suppost kelli nagħmel biha. Daqqa kont qed inħares lejha u daqqa lejn ir-raqba ta’ dat-tizju. It-tinja tar-raqba kienet qed titbissimli, bħal fomm imbissem u mqit. Kont qed nistaqsi lili nnifsi jekk kontx ser immur narmi l-pistola f’xi katusa.

F’daqqa waħda dat-tali dar lejja u ħarisli b’bixra mfantsa. Għamilt pass lura.

“Xtaqt... nistaqsik...”

Ma kienx jidher li qed jisma’, kien qed iħares lejn idejja. Temmejt ngħid bi tbatija:

“Tista’ tgħidli fejn tiġi Triq de la Gaîte?”

Kellu wiċċu mimli, u xufftejh bdew jirtogħdu. Ma qal xejn, mattar idu ’l barra. Imxejt iżjed lura u għedtlu:

“Nixtieq...”

F’dak il-waqt fhimt li kont ser naqbad inwerżaq. Ma ridtx: fajjartlu tliet tiri ġo żaqqu. Waqa’ żorba fuq irkupptejh, b’xeħta t’idjota, u rasu daret fuq spalltu tax-xellug, bħal rota.

“Ja bagħal,” għedtlu, “ja bagħal imġiddem!”

Ħrabt. Smajtu jisgħol. Smajt ukoll xi għajjat u passi mlebbta minn warajja. Xi ħadd staqsa: “X’inqala’? Qed jiġġieldu?” Imbagħad dlonk xi ħadd għajjat: “Għall-assassin! Għalih!” Lanqas ġietni f’rasi li dal-għajjat kellu x’jaqsam miegħi. Iżda deherli heddiedi, bħas-sireni tal-pumpiera meta kont għadni tifel. Heddiedi u kemxejn ridikolu. Kont qed inkarwat b’saqajja ma’ sormi.



Biss, kont għamilt żball ma jinħafirx: minflok erġajt tlajt Triq d’Odessa versu l-Boulevard Edgar-Quinet, kont qiegħed ninżilha ’l isfel versu l-Boulevard Montparnasse. Meta ntbaħt b’dan kien tard wisq: kont diġà qiegħed f’nofs il-kotra, bosta wċuħ mistagħġba kienu qed iduru lejja (niftakar dak ta’ mara kollha żebgħa li kellha kappell aħdar bil-pjumi), u kont qed nisma’ ’l dawk il-boloh ta’ Triq d’Odessa jħanġru “assassin assassin” wara dahri. Ħassejt id fuq spallti. Hemmhekk tlift rasi: ma ridtx immut mgħaffeġ min dik il-folla. Erġajt skargajt żewġ tiri. In-nies qabdu jwerżqu u jinferqu. Dħalt niġri f’kafetterija. Jien u għaddej il-klijenti qamu bilwieqfa iżda ma ttanta jwaqqafni ħadd. Qsamt il-kafetterija minn tarf sa tarf u ssakkart fil-loki. Fil-pistola kien għad fadalli balla waħda biss.

Għadda mument. Kont bla nifs u għadni nilheġ. Oħroġ il-għaġeb, kien hemm skiet perfett, bħalkieku n-nies kienu siktu għal tal-apposta. Għollejt l-arma s’għajnejja u rajt dik it-tqajba sewda u tonda: il-balla kellha toħroġ minn hemmhekk; il-porvli kellu jaħraqli wiċċi kollu. Irħejt driegħi ’l isfel u qgħadt nistenna. Waslu f’ħakka t’għajn, inkiss nkiss; mit-tkaxkir tas-saqajn mal-art li smajt, kellhom ikunu truppa sħiħa. Qagħdu jpespsu xi ftit imbagħad siktu. Jien kont għadni nilheġ u ħsibt illi kienu qegħdin jisimgħuni nonfoħ min-naħa l-oħra tal-paraventu. Xi ħadd mexa ’l quddiem bil-mod u heżżeż il-pum tal-bieb. Bilfors li kien imrassas mal-ħajt, ħalli jevita l-balal tiegħi. Xorta waħda kelli aptit nispara, iżda l-aħħar balla kienet għalija.

“X’qed jistennew?” staqsejt bejni u bejn ruħi. “Jekk jintefgħu għal fuq il-bieb u jifqgħuh f’salt, ma jkollix ħin inneħħi ħajti b’idejja, u jaqbduni ħaj.” Iżda ma kienu qed jgħaġġlu xejn, kienu qed iħalluli l-ħin kollu biex immut. Kienu qed jibżgħu, dawk il-qatta liba.

Wara ftit għola leħen:

“Ejj’iftaħ, m’aħna ser nagħmlulek xejn.”

Kien hemm waqt ta’ skiet, u l-istess leħen żied jgħid:

“Taf tajjeb li m’għandekx ċans taħrab.”

Ma weġibtx, kont għadni nilheġ. Biex nagħmel il-qalb ħalli nispara, qgħadt ngħid lili nnifsi: “Jekk jaqbduni dawk ser iħassruni, ser ikissruli snieni, forsi jifqgħuli għajni.” Xtaqt kieku nsir naf jekk dak il-godli kienx miet. Kelli mnejn drobtu biss... u ż-żewġ balal l-oħra, forsi ma kienu laqtu ’l ħadd... Dawk żgur kienu qed iħejju xi ħaġa, tgħid kienu qed ikaxkru xi oġġett tqil mal-art? Daħħalt il-kanna ġo ħalqi bil-ħeffa, u gdimtha bis-saħħa. Iżda ma stajtx nispara, u lanqas inpoġġi sebgħi fuq il-grillu ma stajt. Reġa’ waqa’ s-skiet.

Allura rmejt il-pistola u ftaħtilhom il-bieb.

Mużika: Song of Joy - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds



Sunday, April 05, 2009

29



Mużika: April - Deep Purple



Monday, December 22, 2008

Tmiem l-ewwel abbozz...












Mużika: Day Is Done - Nick Drake



Sunday, October 26, 2008

Saudade Existencial

“There is, in fact, no way back either to the wolf or to the child. From the very start there is no innocence and no singleness. Every created thing, even the simplest, is already guilty, already multiple. It has been thrown into the muddy stream of being and may never more swim back again to its source. The way to innocence, to the uncreated and to God leads on, not back, not back to the wolf or to the child, but ever further into sin, ever deeper into human life... All birth means separation from the All, the confinement within limitation, the separation from God, the pangs of being born ever anew. The return into the All, the dissolution of painful individuation, the reunion with God means the expansion of the soul until it is able once more to embrace the All.” - Hermann Hesse



“Fis-sewwa, m’hemm l-ebda triq lura, la lejn il-lupu u lanqas lejn it-tifel. Sa mill-bidunett, la hemm innoċenza u lanqas singularità. Kull ħaġa maħluqa, anke dik l-iżjed sempliċi, diġà hija ħatja, diġà hija multipla. Ladarba tkun intefgħet fil-fluss imtajjen ta' l-essri, ma tkun tista’ qatt terġa’ tgħum lura lejn is-sors tagħha. It-triq lejn l-innoċenza, versu l-istat mhux maħluq u lejn Alla, ma twassalx lura, le, ma twassalx lura lejn il-lupu jew lejn it-tifel, iżda iżjed ’il ġewwa fid-dnub, iżjed ’l isfel fil-ħajja umana... Kull twelid ifisser firda mill-Assolut, il-ħbis fiċ-ċokon, il-firda minn Alla, l-ispażmi ta' twelid li jibqa' għaddej għal dejjem. Ir-ritorn fl-Assolut, it-taħlil ta’ l-individwalizzazzjoni doloruża, it-twaħħida mill-ġdid ma’ Alla, jikkonsistu f’li r-ruħ titwessa’ u titwessa’ sakemm tkun tista’ terġa’ titħaddan mill-ġdid ma’ l-Assolut.” – Hermann Hesse

Mużika: Piano Concerto No. 23 in A Major, KV488: Adagio (parti) - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart



Monday, October 06, 2008

- Jiġu mas-Sebħ -
17 ta' Ottubru 2008, Foyer Européen, Rue Heine, Luxembourg Ville, 20:00

Lejla ta' mużika u letteratura f'ġieħ Albert u Jane Marshall, radd ta' ħajr għal kulma kkontribwew matul ħajjithom mhux biss għat-televixin u l-letteratura, iżda għall-kultura Maltija f'sens wiesa'.

Bis-sehem ta' erba' kittieba mistednin minn barra l-Lussemburgu.

Albert Marshall jidderieġi siltiet mid-dramm 4.48 Psychosis ta' Sarah Kane, bis-sehem tal-atturi Sephora Gauci, Silvana Izzo Clarke, Jane Marshall u Mark Vella. Stage manager: Reno Saliba.

Novelli ta' Pierre J. Mejlak, Immanuel Mifsud u Alex Vella Gera.

Poeżija ta' Norbert Bugeja, Antoine Cassar, Claudia Gauci, Kevin Saliba u Joseph Spiteri.

Mużika ta' Carmen Borg, Joseph Debono (pjanu) u Roberta Spiteri (flawt).

Jaqraw ukoll John Degiorgio, Tony Gaffiero, Mark Vella u Anna Zammit.



It-titlu "Jiġu mas-sebħ" meħud milll-ewwel vers tal-poeżija Misteru Buffu ta' Albert Marshall.

Illustrazzjoni ta' Maurice Tanti Burlò (mill-ktieb Diaspora).

Albert u Jane Marshall jirritornaw lejn Malta f'Novembru 2008.

Mużika: Bourée - Jethro Tull



Wednesday, October 01, 2008

It-Tnabar tat-Tniebri Funebri

Erħulhom issammru l-imrietel f’twibitna!

Le, dat-traħħim ma jeħlisx ’l ħajjin jew
’l mejtin. Mhux bħat-tektika ta’ dis-sekonda
li 'ssa 'ssa qed izzikek u tiċħdek hij’ u ċċanfrek
biex toqgħod attent għal kull waqt f'kull mument.

Ejj’iżfnu mat-tnabar tat-tniebri funebri
b'dawk il-għajnejn imberrqin ħomor nar
f'kull ħin. Minn Sinope ġej, Djoġene jsibuni,
tabilħaqq henjin dawk li jixtarruni u jifhmuni.

Ara’rħulhom issammru l-imrietel f’twibitna!
Ħalluhom itambru u jħambqu l-prexxa t’iss’issa!

Sadattant, se mmur
nitlesta għas-sagrifiċċju,
sabiex niskolpixxi sod fil-ħaġar
inriffed, nifferma u ntella’ bħal Menħir
dat-torri dinam’ku tad-dinamite ta’ l-essri.

Mel’erħulhom jissammru l-imrietel f’twibitna...

Kevin Saliba
Novembru 2006


Mużika: Atrocity Exhibition - Joy Division



Friday, September 19, 2008

Tradosofija (3)
Il-Filosofija Dejjiema - Aldous Huxley
Riflessjonijiet dwar Sies il-Essri

Philosophia Perennis — the phrase was coined by Leibniz; but the thing — the metaphysic that recognizes a divine Reality substantial to the world of things and lives and minds; the psychology that finds in the soul something similar to, or even identical with, divine Reality; the ethic that places man's final end in, the knowledge of the immanent and transcendent Ground of all being — the thing is immemorial and universal.

Rudiments of the Perennial Philosophy may be found among the traditionary lore of primitive peoples in every region of the world, and in its fully developed forms it has a place in every one of the higher religions. A version of this Highest Common Factor in all preceding and subsequent theologies was first committed to writing more than twenty-five centuries ago, and since that time the inexhaustible theme has been treated again and again, from the standpoint of every religious tradition and in all the principal languages of Asia and Europe.

(The Perennial Philosophy – Aldous Huxley)


At the core of the Perennial Philosophy we find four fundamental doctrines.

First: the phenomenal world of matter and of individualized consciousness - the world of things and animals and men and even gods - is the manifestation of a Divine Ground within which all partial realities have their being, and apart from which they would be non-existent.

Second: human beings are capable not merely of knowing about the Divine Ground by inference; they can also realize its existence by a direct intuition, superior to discursive reasoning. This immediate knowledge unites the knower with that which is known.

Third: man possesses a double nature, a phenomenal ego and an eternal Self, which is the inner man, the spirit, the spark of divinity within the soul. It is possible for a man, if he so desires, to identify himself with the spirit and therefore with the Divine Ground, which is of the same or like nature with the spirit.

Fourth: man’s life on earth has only one end and purpose: to identify himself with his eternal Self and so to come to unitive knowledge of the Divine Ground.

(Introduction to the Bhagavad-Gita - Aldous Huxley)


* * * * * * * * * *


Philosophia Perennis – din il-frażi kien ħalaqha Leibniz; iżda l-kunċett – il-metafiżika li tagħraf Realtà Divina li hi essenzjali fid-dinja ta’ l-affarijiet u tal-ħajjiet u ta’ l-imħuħ; il-psikoloġija li ssib fir-Ruħ xi ħaġa li hi simili għar-Realità Divina jew anke identika għaliha; l-etika li tpoġġi l-għan aħħari tal-bniedem fis-Sies immanenti u traxxendenti ta’ kull ma hu – il-kunċett ilu minn żmien żemżem u huwa universali.

Xi prinċipji elementari tal-Filosofija Dejjiema jistgħu jinstabu fost l-għerf tradizzjonali tal-popli primittivi f’kull reġjun tad-dinja, u fil-forom l-iżjed evoluti tagħhom dawn għandhom posthom f’kull reliġjon superjuri. Verżjoni ta’ dan l-Akbar Fattur Komuni tat-teoloġiji preċedenti u sussegwenti kollha kienet inkitbet għall-ewwel darba iżjed minn ħamsa u għoxrin seklu ilu, u minn dak iż-żmien ’l hawn din ġiet ittrattata kemm-il darba, mill-perspettiva rispettiva ta’ kull tradizzjoni reliġjuża u fl-ilsna ewlenin kollha ta’ l-Ażja u ta’ l-Ewropa.

(Il-Filosofija Dejjiema – Aldous Huxley)


Fil-qalba tal-Filosofija Dejjiema nsibu erba’ duttrini fundamentali.

L-ewwel: id-dinja fenomenali tal-materja u tal-koxjenza individwalizzata – id-dinja ta’ l-affarijiet, ta’ l-annimali, tal-bnedmin kif ukoll ta’ l-allat – hija l-manifestazzjoni ta’ Sies Divin, li r-realtajiet parzjali kollha għandhom l-Essri tagħhom fi ħdanu, u li kieku kienu mifrudin minnu ma kinux ikunu jeżistu.

It-tieni: l-essri umani m’humiex sempliċement kapaċi jsiru jafu dwar is-Sies Divin b’mod deduttiv; huma jistgħu jintebħu l-eżistenza tiegħu permezz ta’ intuwizzjoni diretta, li hija superjuri għar-raġunar argumentattiv. Dan l-għerf immedjat jgħaqqad l-għerf innifsu ma’ dawk li jsiru jafuh.

It-tielet: il-bnedmin għandhom natura doppja, ego fenomenali u Essri Etern, li huwa l-Essri Ġewwieni, l-Ispirtu, dik ix-Xrara ta’ Divintà fi ħdan ir-Ruħ. Huwa possibbli għall-bnedmin, dejjem jekk ikunu jridu, li jidentifikaw ruħhom ma’ l-Ispirtu u għalhekk mas-Sies Divin, li fin-natura tiegħu huwa l-istess jew simili għall-Ispirtu.

Ir-raba’: fil-ħajja l-bnedmin għandhom għan u skop wieħed biss: li jidentifikaw ruħhom ma’ l-Essri Etern sabiex jaslu għall-għerf li jgħaqqadhom mas-Sies Divin.

(Introduzzjoni għall-Bhagavad-Gita - Aldous Huxley)

Mużika: Aegian Sea - Aphrodite's Child



Monday, September 15, 2008

Remembering Richard Wright



Richard Wright
(1943–2008)



Remember A Day

Remember a day before today
A day when you were young
Free to play along with time
Evening never comes

Sing a song that can't be sung
Without the morning's kiss
Queen, you shall be it if you wish
Look for your king

Why can't we play today?
Why can't we stay that way?

Climb your favourite apple tree
Try to catch the sun
Hide from your little brother's gun
Dream yourself away

Why can't we reach the sun?
Why can't we blow the years away?

Blow away
Blow away...
Remember
Remember...




Mużika: Remember A Day - Pink Floyd



Thursday, September 11, 2008

On the One and the Many
Oneness as an existential orgasm

“All differences in this world are of degree, and not of kind, because Oneness is the secret of everything.” - Swami Vivekananda

As a response to my previous commentary, a reader has asked me the following: “Can sages realize that we are in fact many, as we see in our everyday experience?” My answer is this: on a relative and pragmatic level, yes, on an absolute level, absolutely not. What you called everyday experience is but an illusion resulting from necessary sensory distortions. Truth is that there is no single place in the Universe where your “you” ends and my “me” begins. Plurality seems real, but only Oneness is really real. We are all drink from the same well of Life, and everyone must be careful not to poison it.

As I previously discussed, there are different levels hierarchal of Truth, and one has to be extremely cautious not to confuse them. When approaching Vedic metaphysics, especially the non-dual traditions, this is a common pitfall, usually resulting from the application of the limited either/or approach which is so commonplace in Western intellectual circles. We cannot approach Vedanta in the same way as we do, say, with Aristotelian logic or Anglo-Saxon Logical Positivism. It is like going hunting with a fishing rod – it just does not work. What fascinates me the most about Indian logic is not only its relatively broader depth, but also its apposite status as just one instrument among many other tools. Furthermore, the Asian traditions offer the tool of the via meditativa, through which everyday perception and discursive reasoning is transcended in experience, resulting in a shoring up of our latent faculties of intuition. In this context, the system of logical analysis developed by the Buddhist sage Nagarjuna is one notable mention.

The issue raised by the reader is usually known as the problem of the One and the Many. If we are truly One, how is it that we see so many? And if there are so many, where is this Oneness? At face value, this question might seem insolvable, but it only looks so when we fail to comprehend the nature of the world. On an apparent level, you and me seem two; on an absolute level, we are One, or rather, not two. Advaita, in fact, means “not two.” As I briefly argued in my previous contribution, we are made of the same (non)stuff like anything else; we also share the same Awareness, and most importantly the same Self – and that is the Centre.

This reminds me of the pebble analogy by the Indian (in)famous mystic Osho: Throw a small pebble in a lake: one centre arises from the fall of the pebble and then many other concentric circles arise as a consequence, and they go on spreading to the outermost shore. However, they all have One Centre all the same. There is no such thing as two centres; otherwise, no Universe would be possible. Despite plurality, we have no Centre separate from the Whole; some call it God, some call it Tao, some call it the All, some call it Brahman, but I would rather call it Truth, for as the Theosophists say, “There’s no religion higher than Truth.”.

With relation to these aspects of Oneness, I would like to share the following statement by the legendry Taoist Bruce Lee, the Fred Aster of martial arts: “The Void is no mere emptiness, but is real, free and existing. It is the source from which all things arise and return. It cannot be seen, touched or known, yet it exists and is freely used. It has no shape, size, colour or form, and yet all that we see, hear, feel and touch is It. It is beyond intellectual knowing and cannot be grasped by the ordinary mind. When we suddenly awake to the realization that there is no barrier, and has never been seen, one realizes that one is all things, mountains, rivers, grasses, trees, sun, moon, stars, universe are all oneself. There is no longer a division or barrier between myself and others, no longer any feeling of alienation or fear. Realizing this, results in true compassion. Other people and things are not seen as apart from oneself, on the contrary, as one's own body.”

In the Vedic traditions, particularly in the non-dual ones, the immanent Self, the Atman, is common to All. In an absolute sense, there are no two Atmans, there is just One. Furthermore, this phenomenal ego is identical with Brahman, Ultimate Reality or the Universal Life Principle, and hence the Sanskrit maxim “That thou art”“Atman is Brahman”. And this Ground of Being, which is not to be confused the with atromorphic Abrahamic extra-cosmic personality, is both the unmanifest and the manifest; the One and the Many. In certain schools of Buddhism, this Life Principle is perceived as a Void, while in the Vedic traditions it is almost invariably reckoned as a Supreme. In a sense they are both saying the same thing, but from different perspectives. In any case, they seem to be concurring on one cardinal point: we are the same conscious intelligent Energy that constitutes, animates and pervades the whole of the Existence. We only exist as a part of the Whole. The same applies to all other phenomena, like space, time, gravity and matter. Nothing can exist independently from anything else. We are many interdependent cells forming one single Body. When cells divide themselves beyond normal limits, biological harmony is disrupted, and aberrations like cancer are certain.

The cover of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon might perhaps help us visualize this Idea a little better. When light travels to a prism we see seven different colours, but the White Light projecting them is One and the same. That light is the Real and necessary Self, and which is more, the colourful lights are neither separate from each other nor disconnected from it in any way. As in music, the musicians might be many, but this psychedelic jam is One, and that jam is Life.

The illusory perception of absolute plurality has been also cast off for good by modern Science, which in most ways is now getting closer to the ancient Vedic scientific knowledge by the minute. The following remarks by the celebrated physicist David Bohm, who understood the lesson of Oneness through his groundbreaking scientific work, explicate the catastrophic social dangers of affirming any substantial reality to the apparent many. His worrisome observations, taken from his masterwork Wholeness and the Implicate Order are worth quoting at length: “The notion that all these fragments are separately existent is evidently an illusion, and this illusion cannot do other than lead to endless conflict and confusion. Indeed, the attempt to live according to the notion that the fragments are really separate is, in essence, what has led to the growing series of extremely urgent crises that is confronting us today. Thus, as is now well known, this way of life has brought about pollution, destruction of the balance of nature, over-population, world-wide economic and political disorder and the creation of an overall environment that is neither physically nor mentally healthy for most of the people who live in it. Individuality there has developed a widespread feeling of helplessness and despair, in the face of what seems to be an overwhelming mass of disparate social forces, going beyond the control and even the comprehension of the human beings who are caught up in it.”

But this is what happens when our perception of Being is not grounded in Oneness. Such an auto-genocide becomes inevitable. As I am thinking on this, I am reminded of the fitting advice of the Indian poet Kabir: “Behold but One in all things; it is the second that leads you astray.” Now the task of philosophers who are worth their salt is to inquire into the nature of the One Whole, as the parts, or what the contemporary philosopher Ken Wilber identifies as holons, are in themselves ultimately meaningless. In this sense I agree with the shrewd metaphysical approach of the British philosopher Francis Herbert Bradley: “We may agree, perhaps, to understand by Metaphysics an attempt to know reality as against mere appearance, or the study of first principles or ultimate truths, or again the effort to comprehend the universe, not simply piecemeal or by fragments, but somehow as a whole.” Gottfried Leibniz once also made a very relevant observation: Reality cannot be found except in One single source, because of the interconnection of all things with one another... I maintain also that substances, whether material or immaterial, cannot be conceived in their bare essence without any activity, activity being of the essence of substance in general.” It is perhaps needles to say that all this does not only imply Oneness, but also Intelligent Order.

It is no surprise, then, that most pre-Socratic philosophers were largely preoccupied with the nature of the arche – the first necessary, unitary and ubiquitous Life Principle of the Kosmos. Friedrich Nietzsche, in his work Philosophy in the Tragic Age of the Greeks, also found something very significant to tell us about this fact: “Greek philosophy seems to begin with a preposterous fancy, with the proposition that water is the origin and mother-womb of all things. Is it really necessary to stop there and become serious? Yes, and for three reasons: firstly, because the preposition does enunciate something about the origin of things; secondly, because it does so without figure and fable; thirdly and lastly, because it contained, although only in the chrysalis state, the idea: everything is one... That which drove him (Thales) to this generalization was a metaphysical dogma, which had its origin in a mystic intuition and which together with the ever renewed endeavours to express it better, we find in all philosophies - the proposition: everything is one!” Therefore, we might be inhabiting a world of infinite objects that are constantly changing, yet even in the eyes of the Nietzsche, in this daunting world of objects and incessant change there is One underlying dynamic unity. Oneness is truly all over the place; the writing is on the wall.

The Advaita Vedanta luminary Adi Shankara expresses this realization as follows: sarvam ca namarupadi sadatmanaiva satyam vikarajatam svatastu anrtameva. In our context this connotes that all names and forms are only real when seen in association with the Centre, but are false when seen as independent of it. You and me are two seemingly different but naturally interdependent expressions of the same One Life Force. Ontologically speaking, the individual self is only true in a relative and pragmatic sense, but when taken out of the context of the Centre or the Whole it looses all substantial reality. The individual self is but a particular, and hence it can only truly exist in relation to the Universal. But this Absolute Self, then, is shared among All - that is the Centre: the point in which all seemingly separate existents converge into One single connecting point. The former only exist as an interdependent auto-conscious expression of the latter. We don't express our individuality, because as such our individuality is already an existential expression of something else. This is Heideggerian Dasein, but naked; a Sartrean Being-in-Itself that starts unfolding and disrobing into Authentic Being. Only then can I really begin experiencing objectively the inner subjectivity of others. It’s only then, one might say, that the Sartrean unnecessary tension of Being-For-Oneself and Being-For-Others is significantly resolved.

I also interpret this Centre as the singular amphitheatre of all varieties of human experience: all the different shades of our existential depressions and orgasms coincide within the intense confines of this Self. The association, at least in a qualitative sense, of the immanent relative self with the Absolute Transcendent Self, is succinctly known as Self-Realization. At that very moment, we do not really experience anything, since subject and object are merged, and thus we become the Experience Itself. It is only there, I believe, that pro-creative existential intercourse with Existence starts to take place. But no orgasm is reached unless the Centre is fully penetrated. Orgasm, like Death, by definition necessitates a peculiar stateless state of egolessness.

The following short video, by the Indian mystic Jiddu Krishnamurti, is a deeply moving exposition of the existential intensity of the realization of Oneness:



In the Hindu tradition we find different schools of Vedanta, and each school has its own particular way of dealing with this particular question. Although I do not (and cannot) exclusively identify myself as a Hindu, I believe that the Vedic school of Advaita Vedanta, systematically consolidated by Adi Shakara in the second century of the common era, represents the most complex but yet the best-suited path to mediate on these matters. It is my personal conviction that it represents the highest expression of metaphysical thought ever conceived. Besides, it is the most adequate system for those seekers who are endowed with an intellectual and/or scientific temperament.

Nonetheless, I believe that it is perhaps somewhat inadequate to rely on it exclusively, in particular when dealing with the apparent and yet illusory phenomenon of separateness. The most adequate system to this end, perhaps, is the Vedic school known as Dvaitadvaita, founded in the 13th century by Vaishnava sage Nimbarka. The gist of his system can be described as duality within non-duality – a realization that discerns the nature of apparently different phenomena as being “somewhat different in form but absolutely the same in essence”. In this system, opposites, dualities and pluralities are elegantly put to rights, forming one reconciliatory and coherent metaphysical synthesis.

At any rate, all the different schools of Vedanta stress different aspects of the ontological status of phenomena, and when taken as a whole, no position should be taken as mutually and absolutely exclusive to the other. They are different rational expressions of one non-rational and transcendent experience; to each his own temperament. But despite expressing truly profound truths, in an absolute sense all these loft systems of thinking are also false, as transcendence is beyond discursive thought and ordinary language, and once verbalized it will unavoidably fall prey to various misleading distortions. As the Taoist sage Lao Tzu said, “the moment Truth is asserted it becomes false.” In his aforementioned work, Nietzsche has also warned us about the limits of articulating the ineffable: “Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon absolute truth”.

Aldous Huxley concluded his renowned classic The Doors of Perception with the following regal remark: “Near the end of his life Aquinas experienced Infused Contemplation. Thereafter he refused to go back to work on his unfinished book. Compared with this, everything he had read and argued about and written - Aristotle and the Sentences, the Questions, the Propositions, the majestic Summas - was no better than chaff or straw. For most intellectuals such a sit-down strike would be inadvisable, even morally wrong. But the Angelic Doctor had done more systematic reasoning than any twelve ordinary Angels, and was already ripe for death. He had earned the right, in those last months of his mortality, to turn away from merely symbolic straw and chaff to the bread of actual and substantial Fact. For Angels of a lower order and with better prospects of longevity, there must be a return to the straw. But the man who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the man who went out. He will be wiser but less cocksure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging his ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable Mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend.”

The Mystery of Existence, indeed, is too awful for words. From contemplating these sages and in the faint light of my personal experience, I have come to the humble conclusion that Truth cannot be taught or told. It can only be realized and lived. Only silence expresses it fully as it is. Most of the rest is conjuncture at best, intelligible jargon at worst. Ultimate Reality cannot be faithfully translated into intelligible words or concepts, not even in the vast cognitive possibilities of the Sanskrit language. In the end, all our conceptual endeavours are but infinitesimal approximations of the One Transcendent Beyond that we all immanently carry within. But not all is lost: when intellect fails, the heart prevails. When the hangovers of thought take their toll on me, I resort to one single primordial scream: Love, Reign o'er Me. It is the shortest shortcut through which I reclaim, however hazily, our true collective Centre.

Mużika: Love, Reign o'er Me – The Who

(Note: The philosophic interpretations of the various school of thought mentioned in this article, most notably those pertaining to the school of Advaita Vedanta, are my own subjective interpretations only. As a matter of fact, I claim no enlightenment, moksha, kensho, satori or any other permanent state of Higher Consciousness, as it is becoming so stylish of late in certain reckless guru businesses. I am no enlightened sage. I am just an ordinary human being seeking to know my-Self and the nature of our Existence; just another novice wondering blissfully alone in the pathless path of Truth.)



Tuesday, September 09, 2008

On Nietzsche and the madness of sages

"I've always been mad, I know I've been mad, like the most of us are... very hard to explain why you're mad, even if you're not mad..." - The Great Gig In The Sky, Pink Floyd

A recent acquaintance of mine told me that the state of mind of a sage is also a state of madness, not different from that of Nietzsche’s. So even the sage is a "fool", he concluded. To some extent, I agree: the sage is also in a state of madness, but certainly not in a lunatic sense. He's mad, granted, but no fool.

I have always seen madness as an existential imperative. Our psyche is very strange – it’s paradoxical to the core. That’s why I feel that most logical psychologies are fundamentally erroneous, because they’re totally disconnected from most of our innate drives that makes us human. Our daily sensory experiences are usually relatively humdrum, and yet intuitively we all know that there must be more. No wonder, then, that we do all sorts of things to become mad. Kulħadd irid isir mandra, as we say in Maltese. But it's not a question of misbehaving as society often sees it. It's a deep urge that needs to be dealt with, but not through denial or suppression but through a significant its creative expression and a conscious transformation.

The obsession of the young Nietzsche with the Greek mythological god Dionysius illustrates very well our innate desire to brake free from the chains of Reason, and hence his high esteem of Richard Wagner. In his music, Nietzsche saw an outburst of Passion, much akin to the Dionysian cults of the Ancient Greeks. And yet most of our priests and psychologists keep telling us that we have to be sane: “You shouldn’t do this, as this is not normal. This is crazy,” and so it goes. In this sense I think that most religions and psychologies inevitably become anti-life. When natural madness is systematically suppressed, our Will doesn’t give up the ghost– it can only get hysteric. What we refuse, resists, remarked Carl Jung.

Salvadore Dali was said to be mad. But once he observed that the difference between him and a madman is that he is not mad. And rightly so, as unlike Nietzsche, his madness wasn’t pathological. Dali might have been an eccentric of sorts, but he never became dysfunctional. His madness was a non-rational state of being in which inner vision is expanded and normal perception is transcended. And that is not a pathology, but artistic genius.

Arthur Rimbaud’s approach was even more radical. When he was just seventeen, he declared: “I wish to be a poet, and I am working to make myself into a seer: you will not understand at all, and I would not nearly know how to explain it to you. It's a question of coming to the unknown through the disordering of all the senses. The suffering is enormous, but one must be strong, be born a poet, and I have come to terms with my destiny as a poet. It's not at all my fault. It's wrong to say ‘I think’; one ought to say ‘I am being thought’ - Forgive the play on words - I is another.”

Even this can pass as madness, but it is a radically different madness from that of psychotics. The latter, yes, are “fools”, but Rimbaud and Dali were great geniuses. In his classic treatise The World as Will and Representation, the great philosopher of aesthetics Arthur Schopenhauer described these profoubd shifts in consciousness as follows: “Only through the pure contemplation… which becomes absorbed entirely in the object, are the Ideas comprehended; and the nature of genius consists precisely in the preeminent ability for such contemplation… This demands a complete forgetting of our own person.” Then, in his Parerga and Prolegomena, he concluded: "On the occurrence of an aesthetic appreciation, the will thereby vanishes entirely from consciousness.”

Schopenhauer has also suggested that art has a greater transcendental value than philosophy, relegating the latter to a subsequent rationalization of personal experience. Logic, reason and philosophy alone were never meant to reach these domains of consciousness. Immanuel Kant, in his Critique of Pure Reason, makes a similar compelling argument, and views Reason and Sensory Perception as mere practical faculties of Being that are only appropriate for everyday experience. Their nature is pragmatic, not transcendental: “Human reason has this peculiar fate that in one species of its knowledge it is burdened by questions which, prescribed by the very nature of reason itself, it is not able to ignore, but which, as transcending all its powers, it is also not able to answer, he wrote.

It is my firm conviction that after the advent of Kant the role of most philosophy became relatively superfluous. I'm not surprised in fact that not know too many intellectual artists self-identify exclusively as philosophers. An artist cannot afford to waste all his waking hours in his head. “No hope here, No orietur. Science and fortitude, torture is certain,” as Rimbaud famously observed in his splendid poetical take on Eternity.

The biggest problem with the artistic form of madness, however, is the inexorableness of its impermanence. When we come to the yogis and sages, however, we see that the nature of transcendence becomes even more drastic. Rimbaud said “I is another”, but some Ramana Maharishi, through meditation, would simply realize that in an absolute sense the personal ‘I’ is not, period - it was simply all fiction. The sage knows from experience that there is only one Self, common to all. It is also qualitatively identical with the transcendental cause of the Kosmos. Indeed, from an absolute perspective, subject and object, cause and effect, and transcendence and immanence are perceived as essentially one, as everything is included, reconciled and transcended in non-dual consciousnesses. By normal standards, this might seem as sheer madness, but its results, as so many enlightened beings have testified, is Self-Realization, direct perception with Ultimate Reality and everlasting bliss. It is only here that madness leads to existential sanity; it is a stateless state in which madness becomes as lucid as it can be.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating, and indeed, the outcomes of such self-transformations are indeed very tangible. It is clearly observable that most of these sages rank are among the most blissful and peaceful beings on earth, and which is more, they are existential to the full. And of course, they are undeniably mad, but it is that sort of madness that happens when one’s true nature has been finally revealed. Once the mystic G. I. Gurdjieff stated: “Life is real only then, when I am,” with the “I am” reaching out to all the Kosmos, in the knowledge that the Universe is an extension of one communal being. This was the same realization that led Gautama Buddha to declare to his disciples that he is “awakened”. Similarly, in the Gnostic and Christian traditions, we find Christ’s often-misunderstood assertions that “Indeed, before Abraham I am.” and “I am that I am”, respectively. In the Vedic tradition, then, this state of Self-Awareness is commonly expressed in the Sanskrit formula “tat tvam asi” - That thou art - the immanent eternal Self is one with The Absolute. Such statements form the core of what Aldous Huxley described as The Perennial Philosophy.

I do not believe that there can be any higher goal in terrestrial Existence. Only then, I believe, we could be able to talk seriously about the advent of the Übermensch. This New Man, nevertheless, will not be incited by some egotistical will-to-power or by vain delusions of grander, but by a constant determination to enlighten and liberate all others from all bondages, false associations and illusive dualities. Seeing the same Self in all things, this New Man will be chiefly concerned with teaching the science of Self-Knowledge. Indeed, the Übermensch will be a Universal Bodhisattva whose call is an introspective initiation into communal madness in oneness.

Thus the New Man's version of Rimbaud’s manifesto would probably read as follows: “I wish to know the Truth, and I am working to make myself into a visionary; you will not understand at all, and I would not nearly know how to explain it to you. It's a question of coming to the unknown through the withdrawal from all circular reasoning and sensoury perceptions. The suffering is enormous, but one must be strong, be born a visionary, and I have come to terms with my destiny as a visionary. It's not at all my fault. It's wrong to say ‘I think’; one ought to say ‘I am beyond thought’ - Forgive the play on words - I Is The All.”

This does not necessarily mean that he will deny the world categorically. Virtually all doctrines that did so gave rise to innumerable pathologies and their goals was seldom attained. Truth seeking can never be anti-life, but life affirming. Rather than a pleasure seeker, however, the New Man will be a pleasure witness – a man who partakes in Existence fully without loosing his focus on his ultimate target. The New Man will be both body and soul, earth and sky, male and female, a philosopher and a contemplative, an artist and a scientist, sexual and spiritual, deeply religious yet in a sense secular, both worldly and outwardly. He will reject nothing because he knows he is everything. As Nietzsche himself once observed, a tree that longs to reach the skies must sink its roots to the bottom of the earth. In this sense, the gist of Osho’s vision of Zorba the Buddha is decidedly pertinent.

It can be argued that at the end of his functional life, Nietzsche showed some latent signs of coming closer to these profound realizations, but his obstinate ego did not permit him to penetrate the center. He was too much of an egotist to give up his deep-seated persona of a scholarly phenomenologist. He seldom moved any closer from the periphery of Existence, instead opting to observe all ephemeral phenomena from the exterior, and thus his inner space remained virtually unexplored. Thus, he could never come in touch with the Ultimate Reality lying at the foundation of our world, and so his existential communion with the Ground of Being never really ensued. The last original book he penned, known as Ecce Homo, is in fact an upsetting testimony of his egocentric state of consciousness. It is certainly a genial work of huge literary and philosophical value, but it never sheds any revelatory light on the perennial problems that he initially had set himself to solve.

All things considered, I see Friedrich Nietzsche as zealous seeker who was constantly near but yet always far away from his ultimate goal. But the fate of a genius is dreadfully uncompromising. It does not tolerate any nonsense. A genius has two choices: either he transcends or he’s finished.

So of course, by all means, do become mad, but totally so. As the last line of Radiohead’s “Street Spirit” says: “immerse yourself in love.”

Mużika: Street Spirit - Radiohead



Sunday, July 20, 2008

Tislijiet mill-Indja









Mużika: Ganga Mai - Quintessence



Thursday, June 05, 2008

Ardit Troglodit

Dil-mażżra li
ħażżaqtu m’għonq
ġensi żerrħitli l-essri.

Kont ġejt ngħammar magħkom
biex nixtarr il-għerf tagħkom;
sibt ilmenti u turmenti
sperimenti u sturmenti
nuċċalijiet lentijiet
kwantitajiet unitajiet;
iżda mank tieqa, mank bieb
mank trejqa jo’ miżieb.

U ngħalqu l-imnifsejn
u tqalu r-riġlejn
u qsaru l-idejn
...u ntebqu l-għajnejn
...u nstaddu l-widnejn.

Mel’jekk l-għajn qatt ma rat
u l-widna qatt ma semgħet,
x’hemm lest għalina
la n-nifs iħallina?

Oh x’inhu mwiegħer
dan il-għar!
Aħjar xawta nar
aħjar xarba fwar
minn dal-għaks
minn dal-ġuħ
minn dil-ħasda
tar-ruħ.

Għax jekk l-għajn qatt ma rat
u l-widna qatt ma semgħet,
x’ser jibqa’ minn fina
lil hinn minn dil-mina?

F’nharkom ilmaħt lejl
fej’ kull baqra sewda tuta,
f’lejlkom serp skifuż,
malizzjuż, velenuż.

Li dellkom kien ġawhar
aħjar il-ħjieġ minnu,
li kliemkom kien ħwawar
aħjar is-skiet la m’hux minnu.

Bakkartlu
maż-żerniq filgħodu,
u qtajtha ’lli ntir
lej’ sema ikħal nir
biex nisserreġ fix-Xemx
illi skondkom
żgur m’hemmx.

U nfetħu l-imnifsejn
u ħfiefu r-riġlejn
u twalu l-idejn
...u tberrħu l-għajnejn
...u nfetħu l-widnejn.

U mbagħad
....rajt
u mbagħad
....smajt:

“Kif trid tilmħu l-Infinit?
Kif trid tisma’ polz il-Mit
j’ardit troglodit?!
...Mhux torri ta’ l-għerf
...għandkom intkom,
...iżda Torri ta' Babel
...imdewwed bil-lebbra
...imgiddem bil-ġdiem
...imsewwes mis-sisien
...f’żogħritu ġà qdiem
...f’żogħżitu ġà spiċċa
...jiġ-
.........ġar-
................raf
...pass
.....pass
.......biċċa
.........biċ-ċa.”

Mużika: In The Wake of Poseidon - King Crimson