'Choose a career', says Mother.
'Do it perfectly', screams Father.
'Speak up', yell the teachers.
'Die!', screech the relatives.
'Get a life', cries the boy next door who hunts for crabs at night and sleeps during day.
'I don't love you', whispers the man who wishes to be canonized as the greatest saint who ever lived.
That's not what the Girl with Sad Eyes would like to hear. She doesn't wish to live by anyone's rules except her own or do anything she doesn't have the will to do. She's tired of her relatives, their never-ending gossip and primitive talk which makes no sense at all to someone raised in the city. She'd like to fall in love with someone artistic and musically gifted, live in isolation from the rest of the world and die a quick but peaceful death in a world that's too insensitive to her needs and a world which grows less polite with time. The tedious practicalities, routines, numbers and details of an everyday mundane life have begun to wear her out. Although she hasn't lost faith in herself or the hope of a better tomorrow, she soon will. She will endure only a few more of life's brutal beatings upon her fragile spirit and try hard to see the beauty in a world filled with cheap talk, filth and venom before she wastes away like ever other depressed idealist who lived before her. She doesn't paint anymore nor does she sketch nameless faces into her sketch pad. She keeps waiting for something to happen to take her out of her misery like a car accident or a strange incurable illness. Love comes and goes in the form of young men who tease, flirt and pull at her heartstrings but never stay. She comes across an occasional red rose which revives her spirit if only to some extent, until it wilts away. She tries to capture beauty and love that she sees around her in her art and tries to immortalize it, only to find the medium itself fading upon the wall and disintegrating into bits.
She knows of an old man whom everyone calls 'mad'. But only she knows the truth about what happened to him. His is no ordinary madness. He was once a poor violinist...a simple man...an idealist who made the biggest mistake of his life when he decided to marry. The poor artistic soul was soon pulled into the harsh world of liars and opportunists where reality was much different from anything he had ever experienced. His family now consisted of a terribly vain wife, selfish children and an emotionally indifferent sister, all of whom, burst into his quiet world and pulled him down to hell with them. Today, he just chooses not to remember a soul. He isn't really mad. Just beaten at a kind of chess known as Life.
Below is a song that I've dedicated to him.