The Tiger in the Well. My thoughts.

This one's the first Philip Pullman that I've tried out. This author is an amazing story teller! I brought the book recently, along with his Dark Materials trilogy. I wanted to compare his writings in both the scenarios taken the fact that this one's not a science fiction. It's based in the 19th century London, and describes perfectly well, the situation and the circumstances during those times. The imagery for my imaginary eye was brilliant. I could totally imagine the various scenarios described in this book.

The following is what I made out from the book. The protagonist, Sally Lockhart, belongs to the capitalist society. She's rich. A lady. And is well off with her life, settled perfectly well, surrounded by her family, friends. It takes a single push that suddenly threatens her entire life, and she comes face to face to the reality, the horrors, of the poor. What makes a difference, are the choices that she makes. As the book goes forth, it tell us, that yes, even if she belongs to the richer side of the society, she would count as 'evil' only if she chose to cast a blind eye at those horrors. She chooses not to. At the same time, she is struggling with her own problem, a fight against a man she has no clue about, who suddenly wants to steal away everything that Sally has; even her own daughter.

Pullman has described all to well what she might have been going through. Sally Lockhart is the protagonist of these other two books too, that he has written. I presume I should have read them first, for Sally was younger then.

It's a true fact, whenever I read a book, I always end up doing something extremely crazy and reckless, within 5 hours of reading its last word. I was pretty calm by the time this book ended though. But yes, I certainly decided on some things. There were certain things that I was doing, and I always chose to look past it. If I see the bigger picture, I am a criminal. It's only if I stand up, face it, that I'd be able to think of myself as a good person.

Another fact that I adored about this particular character, Sally, is that despite being a brave, and in some ways, even notorious, she kept her calm, remained strong, for herself and others. A perfect lady, in all senses. I love the ending of this book. It gave me hope. Hope, that there are good people out there, in this world, no matter how difficult a situation might be. And I also realised, that these good people were the bad ones too, who chose to differ, and to take the correct choices, even though they were difficult. That's what made the bad, the good.

Those children of the moon.

Dearest Moon child,

Did I ever complain?

Those children of the moon always seemed to cripple my thoughts.

Like the straight road ahead, wandering off into streets unknown.

Did I ever ask for you to do so? 

I shook with my beliefs, and they proved them all wrong.

Whether or not, I was correct in the end.

Did I ever tell you that I don't trust you? 

I spoke of my thoughts, like those droplets of water that fall so easily.

Into the vast lake of your beliefs, they mix.

But my thoughts were lost. A silent voice, muffled by your gentle ebb.

Did I ever ask for a reason?

Why was it, that being the child of Jupiter, I was so easily moved?

The force of your nature, did nothing to me.

It was me, who chose, to be pulled by you.

But as I left my spot, a gap was certain.

Did I ever tell you how much I miss my home?

I tried blaming them, as I retrospect.

Of how the Moon children, left me drained of myself.

Of how I was lost, in the light, of those moon children.

Of how their light, kept them safely, away from my judgement.

Why would they shine so bright?

Dazzling my eyes, shielding me from the other stars that twinkle. 

Dearest Moon child, it's not your fault.

It's mine, for I let your light guide my way.

Away from home, for you, it stings.

With you, away from home, I would find peace.

Did I ever complain? 

I could never.

Who do you choose to be?

I believe, that the world can be divided into three broad classes of people. 
The leaders, the followers, and the spectators.

Every person has a choice. 
"You're the pilot of your own plane."
The artist, the critique, or the spectator.
Who do you choose to be?

• The leader, the artist. Do you speak of your views openly, without a care in the world? Not afraid of criticism?
• The follower, the critique. Are you the one, who criticises others for their views, not really offering your own original ideas?
• Or yes, the spectator. Do you keep shut, and simply observe the chaos around you, not offering any view on any matter, but simply gulping in the situation, not judging, but observing everything?

The world needs more of the first kind. These 'rebels', that would guide our generation forth. I personally despise the second kind, but then again, they have their own reasons for behaving the way they do, which shouldn't be judged. The third kind, are fine. Nothing great, nothing bad. They just - are.

Everyone is a bit of the three, I suppose. I personally think I am a cross between the first and the third. I beg to differ, for what I believe is right, yes, but at the same time, am alright with anything that others have to say. Everyone has a reason. Everyone is right, in their own way. My perspective, though.

The first kind have a knack of asking questions, and answering them on their own. The second kind, don't ask, just simply answer. The third kind don't do either. They just agree, to whatever that ever was.

The point here, lies in a single question.
Are you working over what you believe in? Or are you simply following others, like a sheep, lost in a herd? Will you listen to them? Or be confident enough to pursue your own beliefs?

Every great legend that the world has known, has had his or her own original personality. They were surely the first kind. A leader. The artist. People followed them. People judged them. There were a few spectators, who observed them. These artists had their complete attention.

Adolf Hitler, John Lennon, Audrey Hepburn, Abraham Lincoln, Mahatma Gandhi, these were the people who listened and answered only to their own soul. They were never the ones to judge. These were the people, who drove others in the direction that best suited their own selves.

On a lighter note, even if we consider characters like, well, Superman, Courage, The Powerpuff girls; these belong to the first kind too. 

Lets concentrate on The Powerpuff girls. The mayor, more often than not, represented the second 'afraid to take their own decision' kind of people. The one who judged, between the right and wrong, but never had his own original views. Considering Mojo Jojo, he too had his own persona. Everybody (outside the TV show!) adored him, I'm sure. He belonged to 'first' kind as well.

We should strive to be the 'first' kind of people. The artists. The creator. The leader. The aim shouldn't be to garner followers though, it should be to strengthen ones own personal ideas, views. People should respect each other for what they are, and do what it takes, to do what they most love to do. Originality, creativity, yes, that's what the next generation humans should keep in mind as they continue to evolve.

The society has a funny way of binding us in the invisible ties of social norms. People are scared to break away, scared of taking risks, scared of taking a stand. The one's who do, well, are the 'first' kind of people. As I have coined before, these are the rebels. 

We live as though, we shall never die. Compromising, all the time. Don't settle for the second best. Your time is now. Do everything you can, for everything that you have ever wanted, for the change you wish to see. Be the first kind. The leader, the creator, the artist. Ask what you need to, allow your soul to answer, and follow what you believe in, always.

Because, they are beautiful creatures.

*

*

Snow leopards. Aren't they gorgeous?

For miles and miles.

A quick thin slip, and a huge fall.

Gracious be the ones that hold on to you.

Never did I seek, nor do I help.

I stay for I search, the source of everything.

I wonder if I can claim, but I know I could never.

Birds are meant to fly in the sky.

My never-ending will abandons me, time and again.

Yet I am here. Always am.

Ready, to offer, that hand,

which you too, long back, had once offered me.

So I set you free, I decide.

That makes me free too.

Play, I play along. Pity, and laugh.

Smile for the weak, and cry for the strong.

Trembling fingers that try to measure the heart,

don't deserve to handle, what they cannot.

Can I say, that I have abandoned myself again?

For a while, I tell myself,

but it seems like forever.

I must stop. I can't, I know.

I resist, hold on.

If I seek the end, I'll never reach the goal.

The goal was always, to be where you are.

The moment that counts, the present, what it is.

The rest is a myth, in the mind, fabricated.

So we fly. We fly, for miles and miles.

Not knowing, scared, yet at peace, at the same time.

I spread my fingers, but my hands feel hollow.

Then I clench them, and shake my head.

It is now. I forget. The bird is out of the cage.