When I think of “X”, I always think of that envelope, the
hand breaking open the seal, the negligible crackle that accompanies the
insignificant process of detachment of the little adhesive at the joint, the
sound of silence that resonates in the moment of waiting for the revelation of
the mystery . . .
People call the “X” mysterious. But it isn't mystery
shrouding “X”, it is “X” encasing mysteriousness. “X” is the emblem of the “unknown”, the
“uncovered”, the “occult”, the “special”. The boggart (Harry Potter and the prisoner of
Azkaban), the math equations, closing your eyes and losing yourself to music
and dance (The witch of Portobello), finding the long separated other half of
you (Plato), self-contemplation, scrounging through all the world has to offer
to locate your talent, motivation – in short, the search for the X-factor is
what intrigues us. We try to discover and form intimate relations with that
which baffles us. We liken it to the beauty that we say each thing possesses.
Sometimes the X-factor is a tiny quality within us or a tiny
attribute of a thing – a wallflower of its own achieving. We may need to squint
to see it. But it is precisely what makes us grand. It is this little thing
that ends up putting the laughter of genuine happiness to our lips – the worth
of all the effort and ennui that went into growing our humble wallflower into a
perfectly pruned bush.
Everything in nature seems random, but follows a rhythm and
routine, a discipline. Everything around us is telling us something or showing
us something. And we are trying to figure out what that is; we try to look for
the answer that seems to elude us but is right there.
We search the world in our attempt to find a meaning for
life, for our existence. Some are awed and moved by the spatters of colours all
around and others simply revel in the pleasurable brightness it displays. The world however is what we make it to be. And we paint it to be who we are.
A painting is a projection of our thoughts, so are the words
that leave our pen; the ink and color are the tools. Our thoughts are the
ambassadors of our being. We might want to look inside. Maybe we’ll see a
glimpse of the world there.
Color fascinates us, a rainbow hypnotizes us. So does the
absence of colorfulness. Falling snowflakes, autumn leaves floating down and
turning the whole place around us orange-brown; all of this stupefies us, leaves us breathless. We look for patterns. Colors are what show us the
patterns. We create patterns inside us, in our lives; we scan the world to
locate pattern. The world in our mind is like a picture of patterns made by
color spattered with brush strokes, as in a painting. Different people set
themselves to different patterns. I am programmed for criss-cross. As a kid, I
always filled my bar graphs with criss-crosses. They are chaos in
systematicness and systematicness in chaos. Strokes strike each other, cancel, mingle, interlock and interfere with each other all at once; but don’t overlap. They are a reflection of my world as I see it, of things that happen to me –
confusing, but clear and beautiful; hypnotizing, but clarifying and peace
giving. Most people are like spiders, crafting their intricate and strong web, waiting and watching and spinning; cunning, but patient. The other kind are
ants; patient, honest and hardworking. The spider wins.
The good versus evil championship in the world is a
manifestation of the tussle within us. Each of us has a light inside, a vertex
that glows with blinding intensity. It is the youth in us – the zeal to DO. It
is what brings the smile to our faces and helps us spread a smile. It is the
core of our soul, the part of us that makes us who we are, our X-factor. Together
with all our geniuses we mobilize the cogs in the clockwork of the world; as a
team – each of us with an important perspective to share.
X marks the spot. X doesn't single out the loner. It marks
the presence of a team. X is on the last coach of a train. X stops us in our
tracks. It is a warning. It makes us rethink – positive or negative, focus or
sideline, void or full. It is the center from which four directions emanate; the point of significance.
X is the mysterious, the unknown, and the variable. It is the
inherent quest motive that humanity pursues. Why X? What is X? X is the core of
a person’s existence; the fire that drives the soul. We are oblivious to it. But it is an infallible presence. It follows us around in disguise.
Photographs by Ghosh, Ranajay. 2014.
Photographs by Ghosh, Ranajay. 2014.
