Wednesday, 24 June 2015

"She Was Haunted by Demons"

I've read this book, Colourless Tskuru Tazaki, by the acclaimed Japanese author Haruki Murakami. In a quick summary, it followed the journey of the 30+ year old Tsukuru Tazaki and his very odd, but self-satisfying lonely life. And flashes back to a moment in his late teens, where his close-knit inseparable group of 5 friends, suddenly cut all ties with him out of the blue. Interestingly enough, everyone's name meant a colour, all except Tsukuru. Perhaps a literary symbol of some sort, this book was everything you hoped it would be. Great plot, fantastic sub-plots and explores the internal turmoils of each character.

One that stood out, the character Shiro Shirane. Her name translated to 'white root.' And just like her name, she was gentle as a flower, pure as snow and was talented in music. Her life was picture perfect. And as the story went on, it revealed she was strangled to death at 30. 

As time caught on, Shiro started to die, her spirit faded. She no longer had sparks in her eyes on things she once found interest in. She can no longer find happiness in the simplest of things. It's not that she didn't want to, she just couldn't anymore.

In the book, one of the lines that struck out to me was "She was haunted by demons." And I feared for myself, because I saw a great deal of myself from the character. One that tries so hard to be perfect, and have thoughts running through our minds that we couldn't sleep at night. Thoughts that made me couldn't sleep at night. 

And haunted by demons? Not demons of the devil, but the demons of our minds. I am afraid I'd break down like how she did. I'm terrified that one day, that I would too lose the ability to find happiness and joy in things. And that I could only feel sorrow and despair. I'm so scared that I would one day become an empty shell, whose security is set by those around me, changing every time. 

And a tiny voice said, "help me."

Demons tread not on fire carriages with horns on their heads. They're the perfect artefacts created by our minds and thoughts. 

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