I remember seeing the movie, Mrs. Dalloway for the first time. I was still in what people would call the 'reluctant schoolgirl with a neat scrubbed face dragging her satchel to the education station' phase (courtesy Shakespeare's distinctly sectioned 7 stages of a man and my own adaptation to suit my needs). Even though I didn't understand much I was pretty overwhelmed by the story. My mother led me through the basics of the stream of consciousness, telling me that it was one of the greatest techniques ever used by (well, what else can I call them?)- the greats.
I watched open mouthed as mum told me that this was how the technique worked. The characters thoughts, ideas, experiences and memories would flow in an uninterrupted and sometimes even interrupted continuity. The pastiche that was created was tremendous and stood out by itself. The effect was in simple words, awesome. I watched Vanessa Redgrave as Mrs. Dalloway standing serenely giving no external vent to her inner world. Surveying everything in her party contentedly, and yet being so very distant in her thoughts. Everything was brilliant.
Then I got hold of a paperback. Held it in my hand for some time, turning it round and round. It was like meeting an old friend who had been pretty close to you for quite some time, but now that time had passed you weren’t sure how to react. I had found the book in the part of our house which we call ‘study’ but its actually just a kitchen which has been converted into the so called study by lining the shelves with as many books we could. There's no dearth in that aspect so the conversion was easily accomplished. While rummaging through the rows I came across Mrs. Dalloway and silently sneaked ‘her’ back to my room (the silent sneaking being necessary as I was supposed to be concentrating on my studies and not distracting myself by reading ‘out of syllabus books’. As if there’s something like that even!) . The cover showed a painting depicting a corner of a table with a few well dressed and respectable looking people making merry eating good food and wine. At least I presumed it to be good food and wine.. Mrs. Dalloway lay on the shelf of my table for a good 7 months before I finally got round to reading it.
Mrs. Dalloway’s reaction to Warren Smith’s suicide was one that I guess the hard core suicidal maniac will always agree to. "Death was defiance. Death was an attempt to communicate; people feeling the impossibility of reaching the centre which, mystically, evaded them; closeness drew apart; rapture faded, one was alone. There was an embrace in death,".An effort to communicate an existence. The lines hit me hard. Never before had I come across a more fitting definition to the ideology behind the act. I have always believed that the end to extraordinary and great lives are justified by violent deaths. These lines seemed a better explanation to my sentiments. Woolf herself committed suicide and had been known to have made attempts on her life earlier. The lines echo her thoughts and find an equal supporter in me.
