Fury In Your Words

Image via Wikipedia

I understand a fury in your words.

But not the words.

Desdemona (to Othello)

Othello, Act 4, Scene 2

One of the main reasons for my silence here thus far has been the highwire tension I walk daily that continues to deal with the fury words can bring, which subjected me into a position where a malaise of sorts set in. It has been extremely difficult to pen something decent and meaningful in such situation when all you want to do is close your eyes and wish the day away to the next, only to find yourself going through the same thing again.

It has always been easy to create a bogeyman so that a blame can be put upon others and to justify one's vindictive action for the grievance or hurt caused (imagined or otherwise) upon oneself. Othello is a play which uses the backdrop of a Turkish invasion of Cyprus, a very public act, to explore a most private act, the jealousy of Othello as he suspects his wife of infidelity. In this scene from Othello, he blames his wife Desdemona for some crime which she did not commit and rants at her with such bile and anger, that she asks Othello to explain his reasons for such action.

It is in Othello's paranoia and the lack of listening, coupled with the need to start labelling others too quickly as evil or the enemy, which has been parallelling the conditions of living here in the parish which I am in. There are people saying too many things but no one is wanting to listen to anyone. Everyone of them are sure that they are right and that is final. The invectives and bile that are thrown around is done with great gusto, with nary a thought for the dignity of persons involved, making them worse than animals. The air of finality in all these does not seem to allow any room for change, dialogue or transformation sorely needed. Those accused seemed doomed to the pains of hell where the fires there never go out.

It is extremely difficult to have a decent conversation in a situation like this when every word or action of yours can be scrutinised and be labelled as a potential threat. To what, I don't know. But a threat nonetheless. So, I can feel for Desdemona who cannot figure out what in the world are all those shouting and screaming about, fast and furious in coming they may be.

Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

Desdemona (to Othello)

Othello, Act 4, Scene 2