13 August, 2014
Today I knew of the passing away of Robin Williams and it came to me as weird and cold as death- I don’t know the American star much; a few movies I can count of him that I have watched and still it feels as though a part of me has left with him. Or perhaps, a part of him is left with me, here.
And following the news, I watched some part of Good Will Hunting; the same calm and content countenance, and with patience infinite and the brightness of the sun, he stared at me, like he does as if reading something beyond the eyes.
My remembrance of Williams is of the dreamer Keating of Dead poets’ society which leaves on me an imprint unforgettable- time nor tide shall fade away the shadows of the figure from the fine strands of my consciousness. And neither would you, who may have seen him even once, forget the content visage or the kind eyes.
It is strange how people and events become part of the unstopping harmonious flow of consciousness throughout time and space. And so has death of someone I’ve known been to me- strange and mysterious, torturous and sad, and a constant reminder of finality.
Those who are remembered and celebrated through culture truly live forever- the poets in the film or the actors- the actor, Williams, now holds place the same as of Whitman, or the Captain, Lincoln, in his own right. Such deep feelings of belonging for someone known to me by a mere two or three films makes it harder to believe that life should have a conclusion and makes the consciousness dearer- the desire to absorb, to seize every inch of time that’s given and the wish to love are magnified, and it lifts above all negativity. The pyre or the tomb, sentinels of the next world- the world of the immortal maybe, bring a maturity and grief, they make you younger and more vulnerable. The sense of belonging makes us vulnerable, the realization that in the end, we are all one and infinite, makes it hard to accept death- my own or anyone else’s, at all. Yet, we kill each other, yet we fight and yet there is you and me, and not us.
A personal loss is felt, the hollowness inside swells and wets the eyes. Much the same departure as in the film, and if I were there, I’d have done the same salute, said the same words, and cried.