Saturday, December 4, 2010

Blind (Monologue)

Backdrop of a darkened sky, no lighting. Reduced spotlight on him. He is sitting on a park bench, his back to the sky. He is wearing classic outdated slacks with leather shoes, his shirt is tucked in and he is wearing a small vest.
Some tell me it's the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.
(Pause- looks out)

Others tell me, it's so mundane, they hardly notice it happened. They just realize it's time to turn on the lights.
(A light gets turned on from a nearby building)
Since, both these descriptions mean nothing; I rely on those who explain that they feel a chill run down their spine when it happens.
It's like a child who has been weaned from his mother's breast and no longer feels the security of her warmth.
The process is so frequent yet so magical and miraculous at the same time. It really makes us feel our insignificance.
(Throws a coin into the air in front of him)
The fact of the matter is that who lives, who dies, who laughs, who cries, who suffers, who yelps with joy, take her into their consideration. Their suffering is darkened by her absence and their happiness is magnified in her presence. She is dependable and versatile like clockwork and will never stop rising and setting.
(Pulls out the chain of an old pocket watch from his vest pocket)
I understand how we are only a dull speck in our galaxy, especially in comparison to her. She is the liveliest star. If the earth represents a grain of rice, then the sun is the size and taste of a watermelon. She is sweet, refreshing and pleasurable especially in summertime.
So, I realize how grandiose our universe is. And how I trivial I am. Yet I'm standing here, watching the sunset, waiting again to fill the void and to feel, hear, sense, touch what they tell me they see.
(Pulls out a small sculpture of Olivia from his pocket)
Olivia once told me that she saw all the shades of purple, orange and blue combined in her favorite sunset. That sight was so beautiful; she recorded it in her mind. So, whenever she feels overwhelmed by life, like so many of us do, she closes her eyes
(He then closes his eyes)
and feels the security of that beauty.
Of course, all I know about color is that it is a concept that humans have made to identify the different shades of the spectrum they see. For me, orange is tangy pigmented citrus with drops of juice trailing from her lips. Purple is sweet scented lavender perfume that is always on her nape. Blue is so humdrum like me that they have named our earth, the blue planet.
The lonely silence of the night without her is dreadful compared to the busy intensity of the daytime. I can hear the reassuring hustle and bustle of everyone I know, including her, going off to work, to school, rushing, pushing, shoving. Then, the magnification of the earth's music till it reaches the peak of the symphony, followed by the fading and the dying out of the instruments one by one.
These are worthy muted tones that accompany the sun setting.
At night, the silence of the moon and the darkness which is what I was born into.
It is daylight because I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, she touches me like a tender lover. Her departure is not so dramatic because her touch slowly fades, and I feel reassured that I will awake the next day to her glow. I have seen her beauty and I revel in it.

1 comment:

  1. This was really nice. I stumbled upon it looking for a monologue for a college audition, and this might just be what I decide on. Thanks :)