Sunday, April 02, 2006

 

Edward Scissorhands

Who lives in that mansion up the hill?
> Edward Scissorhands.

Edward SCISSORHANDS!!! Who’s Edward Scissorhands?
> He’s the guy who lives in that mansion up the hill all alone.

Why does he live alone?
> He hates us. He hates everybody.

=======================================
What’s your name?
> Edward.

Why do they call you Scissorhands?
> Because of these. There’re scissors in place of my fingers. My maker gave me a heart like yours; a brain and a mind like yours. My heart beats too, I can also feel, can get hurt and sick. But what makes me SCISSORHANDS are these scissors. My maker died, long back in my childhood. I was learning to be nice, to be human; but my teacher died. I was left alone. Loneliness just made my scissors sharper.

I’m scared of others. They only see my scissors and they hate me. I just want to love and be loved. I long for a friend who doesn’t see my scissors with fright and me with suspicion. I have a human heart—full of love and compassion. But I got scissors. And people just see them.

See, I’ll put my hands behind; look at me, don’t I look human too? Do you think you can embrace me now, kiss me now? Now I bring my hands out again. Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. My hands are made of scissors not my heart.

Why are you scared of me? Why will I hurt you? You are afraid of my power or you are afraid of your vulnerability? Do you feel guilty, have you done something wrong? If you haven’t, why would I hurt you?

All I’m saying is, don’t hate me for my hands. See my heart—love it if you like.

Why do you live alone up here away from everybody? Do you hate them?
> I’m hiding. I don’t want to be rejected again—to be seen with suspicion and fear. I went down once, exposed myself to the world hoping to find people who will understand and accept me as I’m. Many rejected me outright, some dared to accept but with suspicion—one dared to love—but none dared to accept their acceptance in public. So I’ve to hide myself from everyone because I’m scared they won’t like what they’ll see and there’s nothing I can do because this is ME. They don’t like what I am; I can’t run away from my SELF so I run away from them.

# posted by Amit D'Mani @ 1:52 AM 1 comments
 

Ek Hasina Thi

Aaaaaaaa……..h, I’m scared, I’m really scared. One problem with me is that I think too much, rather…I imagine too much. You tell me something, and the damn thing runs in my head like in a dream—I live it in my head. And that's what happened when I saw ‘Ek Hasina Thi’- I lived it—rats climbing up in my trousers; me helplessly and haplessly looking at them. And it gave me shivers. I could feel the tingle of those small feet on my legs, the nails slightly poking my flesh; the flickering tail moving on my skin like someone’s running a feather, but this time the same sensory excitations sending out chills in my spine as my conscious was aware of the source. I felt the rat’s bristles brushing against the hair on my legs, smell the creature filling the air around me, suffocating me. I couldn’t see with my own eyes the approach of the inevitable; I leaned back and closed my eyes and I think I let out a scream of despair as I gave a last tug to my hands to free myself up, just to know what I was already aware of, the last of drops of hope of a miracle dried up as the rat took its bites.


# posted by Amit D'Mani @ 1:42 AM 0 comments

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