surreal – Penfluky

favourite (n.) and their favours (v.)

What is in debt may never die

Sitting in the old wooden cafe, Sir Donald McDouchey sips his chai tea and puts the teacup back on the table. He looks around and notices the waiter looking at him eagerly with a half-baked smile. “Touche, you said right. The chai touched my ganglia and gave my mind the best orgasm it had in years” he spoke out moving his lips forward and wiping the traces of tea drops off his whiskers for the royal douche he is.

The waiter bent a bow and went back to the kitchen that looks like an uncleaned coal factory. He picked a notepad from his desk and wrote ‘+1’ beside the name “McDouchey”. The list read ‘Compliments and favours’. The waiter noticed that it was the first compliment he had received in 6 months and dropped his jaw in disapproval. “De Spice” someone calls the waiter that brought him back to the world. “There is a gentleman waiting at table 6” the coarse voice, guided De Spice to the sitting area.

“Ego De Spice is free sir. You are not my favourite anymore” waiter turned towards the coarse voice with pride on his face. “What do you mean?” the rude man asked. “Sir McDouchey complimented me!” De Spice jumped and threw the pad at the rough man, and he caught it. The rude man looks at the pad with wide-open eyes “But.. but” he uttered. “I have returned your favour by gaining three compliments, sir. It took me one year to get three, but yes, I have done it” De Spice pulls his waiter suit tearing the buttons. He threw the uniform and went out of the cafe dancing on his toes.

When he made a move on the street, closing his eyes, he heard the sound of a wooden wheel on the rocky road. He opens his eyes to the sound of two horses. He is astonished to see a cart that is about to hit him, but he was immovable. Right when the carriage almost dashed into De Spice, a hand grabs his arm and pulls him over the pavement. De Spice trembles with this near-death experience. He turns slowly towards the hand that held him. To his surprise, it was the rude man, the owner of the cafe. The rude man had a grin on his face. De Spice wished he was dead instead of being saved by this grinning cunt. “No, No, No!” De Spice cried. “I saved your life, Monsieur Ego De Spice” the owner grinned again.

The rude owner threw the uniform on the face of De Spice as he falls to the ground on his knees cries a big “Nooooooooo.”

The Favourite

It was early spring, and Micheal sits on the cliff looking at the newborn leaves of the plants around the hilltop. Something distracts him, and it is none other than his friend, Carmen Isabich. “Heyyo, Michael Angello” shouts Isabich in a relatively low voice making an O of his mouth. “Not again” Michael sighed, looking at Isabich’s annoying face. “You don’t need to make a face, Is-A-Bitch, your presence is enough to annoy me” Michael shouts. “It’s Isabich!” Isabich yells and hits on Michael’s back.

Isabich sits beside Michael and rests his head over Michael’s shoulder. “Is letting you rest your head on my shoulder a favour?” Michael asks curiously. “No!” Isabich takes his head back. “You are getting too commercial” Isabich frowns. “That’s how the world is, Carmen. You need to be cautious. You are 16, and you already took more than a hundred favours!” Michael complains. “Well, I repaid 87 of them” Isabich justifies. “Who are your favourites?” Michael asks curiously.

“Well, the baker guy is the most favourite one. He had lent me croissants and occasionally baguettes. I owed him 21 croissants and seven baguettes. I am coming from the shop finishing the last batch of croissants for him. That leaves seven baguettes. Wait.. err.. 21 minus 7 minus 5” Isabich keeps on counting using his fingers and subtracting digits in the air. Michael stops paying attention. He looks at the newborn leaves again, and he observes a caterpillar munching these tender leaves.

“Don’t you think it is annoying?” Michael asks Isabich. “Everything annoys you, Michael. I annoy you, the caterpillar annoys you, and even your father annoys you. Name something that doesn’t annoy you!” Isabich moans. “Shut up, Is-A-Bitch! It isn’t fair; this favour business. It should be a choice to return the favour. It is unfair to force people to return the favours” Michael explains. “My father says only anarchists and heathens who are lazy to live make such statements” Isabich frowns looking away from Michael. “I don’t think being either of them is a bad thing” Michael continues justifying his thoughts.

“It is terrible to think like that. If you take a favour, you should return it!” Isabich yells and pushes Michael a bit. “Oh yeah, please remind me of the number of favours I took, please Monsieur Karma Is-A-Bitch, why don’t you enlighten me!” Michael shouts sarcastically. “Just because you never took favours doesn’t mean you are a Buddhist monk. Should I remind you about your old man? About how he ran away leaving you all behind? I’m sorry but if he didn’t take too many favours and returned most of them at least, you would have been like me too, normal and not-weird!” Isabich slipped his mouth, but he regretted it instantly.

“I should never have said that, Michael. I’m sorry” Isabich tries to apologise. Michael couldn’t take the insult and gets up, but the mushy mud makes his foot slip. Michael slipped from the cliff but he hanged on to a rock. His upper body was still on edge, and he was losing his grip by each second. Isabich jumped to his feet and held Michael’s hands, applying pressure and making it easy for Michael to jump up. “Move!” Michael yells. “What the hell Michael!” Isabich yells. “I don’t want your favour!” Michael cries. “Michael! Fuck it! Let me help you. What if I become your favourite? It is no big deal!” Isabich tries to make sense out of Michale’s mind.

Michaels pushes away Isabich’s hand and tries to climb up using his tummy and chest. He moved his chest and abdomen like a caterpillar, distributing his body weight from his hands to his torso. Isabich stood there helpless because Michael is pushing him away. “I will help myself! If I die, I die. I don’t want any favours, and I will have no favourites that suck the life out of me. I won’t spend my life returning the favours” Michael shouts. “But Michael, it is not a big deal” Isabich cries with teary eyes.

“Don’t you know that the favour for saving life burdens me with being indebted to you till you die? You become my forever favourite! I hate to return your favour by doing everything I can to you. I don’t want to lose my naturality by making you my forever favourite, Isabich!” Michael begins to lose grip. “Fuck you!” Isabich holds Michael’s hands. In the act of pushing the hands away, Michael loses his grip. He starts falling. “Live free, Mr. Karma Is-A-biiiiiiiiiitchh.”

*Thud*

Isabich never looked back. He never climbed that mountain; returned his favours, and never retook one. He also made sure that there were no favourites. For the favours, he accidentally did to other people he never reminded them, because he didn’t want to be their favourite either. Isabich became the very lazy anarchist and the heathen that his father warned him. Sometimes he thought “Is Michael my favourite because he favoured me by passing this knowledge?”

Mama, What’s Happening?

He woke up to the smell of coconut oil. “Mama” he yelled in his sleep. His eyes are still shut but he feels irritated. He wants to sleep more but the coconut smell is irritating him. “Mama, stop” he yelled as he opened his eyes. There stood a beautiful lady who looked similar to his mother. But he doesn’t know who she is. He doesn’t understand what she is doing in his room with his mother’s looks and his mother’s oil. “Where is my mama?” he asked her. He feels invaded in his space. And he only wants to see his mother right when he wakes up. “Shhh” she patted his head. “Sleep, daddy,” the woman said as he went back into the slumber.

He woke up again and he was in a different room. His father was smoking a cigar, it was his study room. He walked up to his daddy. “Father, when did you come?” he asked eagerly. His father brushed the kid’s hair. “Right when you fell asleep on my desk, slugger” he tickled the kid in the tummy. The kid ran into the hallway screaming “Mamaa” and his mother answered from the garden. He rushed to the garden and he saw his mom plucking the weeds out of the bushes. “What is it Krishna?” she asks annoyed. “Mama, did you know papa is back?” he asked curiously. “Yes, I know my dear, why don’t you show papa your new toy you bought?” she brushed him away. Krishna rushed to his room and kept searching for his new toy.

After a lot of throwing the things around, he finally found the airplane toy that he was looking for. He held it in hands with pride and ran to his father’s study. He saw his mother weeping, a bit older than she was supposed to be, and holding his father’s hands. “Mama, what happened?” he asked as his mother pointed to Krishna and said “Why don’t you think about him?”. Krishna’s father stood from the chair “You can’t use him as defense every time, Sarala! He will be 21 this year!” he yelled. “Dad, I’m eleven” Krishna defends, but his voice came out rather coarse. He doesn’t understand how his voice is so coarse. He looked in the mirror that is beside him. And he had a moustache and a goatee. “But, I was just eleven a few moments ago” he said and turned back towards his parents.

His mother looked rather old, like she was 60 all of a sudden. “Mama, what’s happening?” he asked as she looked at him with despair in her eyes. “The dementors are coming” she said pointing to the window. Krishna moves to the window. He sees scary shadows filling his garden. He sees his own reflection in the windows and he is back 11 again. A dementor knocks on his window and he closes his eyes screaming loudly. He turns back screaming to see his mother and father quarrelling. “Mama there is a ghost outside” he shouts pointing at the window. “You are too old to be scared of imaginary things, Krishna” his father sighs. Krishna turns back to the window only to stare at his 21-year-old’s reflection.

He turns back to his father and is taken back looking at a black coffin and his old mother sitting beside. “What happened, mama?” he asked, trembling with fear. Random people in army uniforms entered the room and covered the coffin with a flag. The soldiers stood in a line in the room and they shot their guns in the air to pay respects to Krishna’s father. Krishna worried about the roof and looked above. It was blue sky and he turned down to realise that he had mud under his feet. He was standing in his garden where the rites of his father are taking place. The soldiers were going away and he followed them. “Don’t Krishna”, his mother yelled. But something pulled him with the soldiers. The soldiers rallied outside their gate and it was mayhem out there.

The planes were bombing around and the soldiers were camping, unloading guns from the crates. “Here” a soldier threw a rifle at Krishna. Krishna caught the rifle and took cover. “Charge!” the major yelled. “But, I’m just 21,” Complained Krishna. “You are 32 now, Captain Krishna” a soldier patted his back. “Krishna” his mother called him from behind. Krishna turned back and his mother was standing at the gate, and he ran to his mother and hugged her tight. His arms wrapped her legs. She lifted him up and threw him in the air and caught him again. “Coochie Coochie” Sarala chuckled and kissed Krishna on his cheek. His father, rather young, took Krishna into his hands and pointed towards the flag. “That’s the nation you will serve after me, Son” he said.

But the flag started turning black, like there is a black fire on the flag. The flag started vanishing into nothingness. “It is not fire” Baby Krishna yelled to his father. “Krishna” his mother called him from behind and he turned back. “The dementors, Krishna!” she screamed as she caught black fire on her. Krishna started running towards her but his knees started aching. His voice started trembling. He kept running towards her as she kept burning in the black fire. “Daddy” a voice called Krishna from behind. He turned back to see a young lady resembling his mother. “Daddy, let’s go” she yelled at Krishna. “My mother, she is being taken away into the void. I need to save her” Krishna yelled.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends, papa” she shouted angrily. There were a lot of kids laughing at Krishna standing beside his daughter. “Why are you laughing at me? My mother is going into the void, everything is going into the void!” he yells. “Papa!” the lady yelled. “You are not my daughter, I’m still eleven, how can I have a daughter” he yelled at her as he fell down. The lady came running and lifted Krishna. Krishna felt a piercing pain in his knees. In her eyes he saw his own reflection. His wrinkled skin and shaking face. He couldn’t accept it, he screamed hard. He stood up and started running. His body turned into an eleven-year-old boy. His daughter and her friends kept chasing him but they are old, they are twenty somethings. Can they outrun an eleven-year-old boy?

Krishna ran on the streets and entered into a building he found familiar. His old mother sat on the couch when he entered the door. “I was waiting for you, Krishna,” his mother opened her arms. Krishna hugged her tight. “Stay here, with me” mother said embracing him proudly. He felt as if the hug was squeezing him. Soon he feels choked. “Mama, leave me alone” he yelled and frees himself from her. There was a gigantic thud and he rushed to the window. The world is filled with dementors. They are putting up the black fire. And the black fire is sucking everything. “Mama, what is happening?” he yells. “They are eating your memories, Krishna! Please stay with me, I can’t move. Stay with me and accept the void” his mother opened her arms again.

But the ghastly creatures have bashed the door open. They sucked his mother into the void and pounced upon Krishna. They started sucking the life out of him. And they took breaks for each inhalation. And with each inhalation, they took things into the void. Krishna was holding the carpet hard, he doesn’t want to go to the void. The dementor inhaled him. But he was strong. With first inhalation, Krishna turned 15 and his eleven year old self went into the void. With the second inhalation, the 15 year old went in and Krishna turned 21. “No, Please. I want to remain young! I belong here!” Krishna yelled as his 21 year old got sucked in too. They kept on sucking the life out of Krishna till he turned 83. There was nothing left anymore. They sucked everything in the room.

They began with sucking the wallpaper. As they suck, there appears a black fire around the objects and the objects go into the void. The wallpaper went into the void and turned white. The inhalations of dementors grew and the room looked like a hospital room. And after everything went into the void, the coconut smell, it still exists. He couldn’t open his eyes anymore, he hadn’t got the power to keep them open. He closed his eyes as his daughter stood by him crying touching his forehead. “Stay, Daddy” she said. He overheard someone talking, maybe her husband. He closed his eyes, his hearing was going weak, sucked into the void. “Dementia, Dude.. He was suffering from Alzheimer’s for a long time. It doesn’t look like he is going to make it” he heard it faintly and he couldn’t hear anything anymore. And there was nothing, the void!

A scream passed through nature and fell upon a canvas

I was walking along the road with two friends. The sun was setting – suddenly the sky turned blood red. I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence, there were blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city. And my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety, and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.

And that is how Edvard Munch describes what he felt while drawing the infamous painting, The Scream (1893). He saw the sky turn blood red, and he felt anxious. If you can see the artwork, the first thing that comes to your mind is ‘anxious’. The art flaunts out, speaks out anxiety; everything about that piece of art communicates some fear.

Edvard Munch describes this about Oslo, in Norway. There was a lunatic asylum near that location which admitted his sister for her disorder. Many interpretations tell that it was this asylum that he referred when he said: “scream passing through nature”. He describes how he felt anxious when he was looking at the blood-red sky. Many thought the blood-red sky was just a metaphor.

Historians explain that a nearby volcanic eruption causes a dramatic red sky in Oslo for a few days. The red sky he saw might be in one of those days. And it is only natural to feel anxious after looking at something unnatural. But if you look closely at the figure that is in the painting. It is screaming, now that figure is metaphorical. It is in-human and looks something close to what we call a ghost.

This figure might represent nature in a personal form. The personification of his feelings when he passed that area made this painting necessary. It is a crucial artwork in history because it is prominent for the movement: ‘impressionism’. People consider Edvard Munch as an expressionist artist, but this specific work is impressionistic.

Impressionism was an art movement in the 19th century. The impressionist artists chose to draw or make a piece of art not by merely depicting something as it is. They would instead create an impression that had been in their minds while looking at the specific inspiration. You can see how it fits the profile of The Scream!

Many historians also claim that it was not just a lunatic asylum that felt like a scream of nature, but there was also a slaughterhouse nearby.

Later in life, Edvard Munch stopped consuming meat and felt it was cannibalism. He, however, continued to eat fish, but he was outspoken about turning vegetarian. ‘Vegetarian cult’ he called it. Historians related his thoughts on vegetarianism from his early ‘Scream’ days and said the ‘scream of nature’ might also refer to the screams of animals from the slaughterhouse.

It does make sense to think of it as the screams of animals because, in his later life, Munch describes eating animals is cannibalism and they are our cousins, brothers, sisters and aunts. He is against the idea of eating closer relatives such as animals, and he supports eating our distant relatives who share different anatomy to us, the plants!

Both interpretations have something in common, the scream—screams of lunatic patients and animals from butchery. Both are innocent; they have committed no crime to suffer such punishment. It is humans that mistreat people with disorders and animals for food. The setting seemed odd, slaughterhouse one side and the lunatic asylum on the other, and the blood-red sky. It was a scream of nature; man, animal, sky, plant and everything around screamed at that moment in his mind.

If he drew this as ordinary landscape painting depicting it as it is with regular people on the bridge, asylum and slaughterhouse on either side, would it have created such an impact? Would you feel anxious when you look at it? Would you understand the scream of nature? You would need some description to figure out the motive behind the painting if it was an ordinary landscape.

It is because of the impressionistic choice he made to personify the scream, to draw the sky wavy in a surreal way, and that makes us feel anxious to look at it. It is as if it was his anxiety that he put into the work, and it transmits to everyone who looks at it. Such is the beauty of Impressionist and Expressionist arts. It is not merely capturing the movement as it is, but it is capturing the feelings that come with the moment and scenery that makes a painting and artistic painting!