தேய்பிறையா வளர்பிறையா?
நட்சத்திரங்கள் நகர்ந்தனவா?
தெரியவில்லை...
அருந்ததியை தேடித் தலைத் திருப்பினேன்.
தண்டவாளத்தின் தகடு தலையில் இடித்தது.
மனம் குறுகுறுத்தது. சுற்றும் முற்றும் பார்த்தேன்.
கைகள் நடுங்கிய படி வாங்கினேன்.
'தப்பில்லை' என்றான். சிரித்தேன்.
என் பைக்குள்ளே ஒளிந்தது -
பக்கம் வர அழைத்தேன்.
இருபது நிமி்டம், இருநூறு ரூபாய்.
காரியத்தை முடித்தேன்.
சுமார் ஆராயிரம் பரப்பளவு உள்ள காட்டில்,
இருபதாண்டுகள் மேல் தேடி,
நூறு பேரை கொன்று குவித்த 'ஒரு' ஆளைப் பிடித்தது.
சுவீட் எடு, கொண்டாடு!
வெகு நாட்களுக்கு வெறிச்சொடியது வாசல்.
கண்ணனின் கால்களில்லை, கார்த்திகை தீபமி்ல்லை.
கோல புத்தகம் இப்போது குப்பைத்தொட்டியில்.
The following is an excerpt from Ayn Rand's book 'Anthem'.
I am. I think. I will.
My hands . . . My spirit . . . My sky . . . My forest . . .
This earth of mine . . . .
What must I say besides? These are the words. This is the answer.
I stand here on the summit of the mountain. I lift my head
and I spread my arms. This, my body and spirit, this is the end
of the quest. I wished to know the meaning of things. I am the meaning.
I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for
being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant
and the sanction.
It is my eyes which see, and the sight of my eyes grants beauty
to the earth. It is my ears which hear, and the hearing of my
ears gives its song to the world. It is my mind which thinks, and
the judgment of my mind is the only searchlight that can find the
truth. It is my will which chooses, and the choice of my will is
the only edict I must respect.
Many words have been granted me, and some are wise, and some are
false, but only three are holy: "I will it!"
Whatever road I take, the guiding star is within me; the guiding
star and the loadstone which point the way. They point in but one
direction. They point to me.
I know not if this earth on which I stand is the core of the
universe or if it is but a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know
not and I care not. For I know what happiness is possible to me
on earth. And my happiness needs no higher aim to vindicate it.
My happiness is not the means to any end. It is the end. It is
its own goal. It is its own purpose.
Neither am I the means to any end others may wish to accomplish.
I am not a tool for their use. I am not a servant of their needs.
I am not a bandage for their wounds. I am not a sacrifice on
their altars.
I am a man. This miracle of me is mine to own and keep, and mine
to guard, and mine to use, and mine to kneel before!
I do not surrender my treasures, nor do I share them. The fortune
of my spirit is not to be blown into coins of brass and flung to
the winds as alms for the poor of the spirit. I guard my
treasures: my thought, my will, my freedom. And the greatest of
these is freedom.
I owe nothing to my brothers, nor do I gather debts from them. I
ask none to live for me, nor do I live for any others. I covet no
man's soul, nor is my soul theirs to covet.
I am neither foe nor friend to my brothers, but such as each of
them shall deserve of me. And to earn my love, my brothers must
do more than to have been born. I do not grant my love without
reason, nor to any chance passer-by who may wish to claim it. I
honor men with my love. But honor is a thing to be earned.
I shall choose friends among men, but neither slaves nor masters.
And I shall choose only such as please me, and them I shall love
and respect, but neither command nor obey. And we shall join our
hands when we wish, or walk alone when we so desire. For in the
temple of his spirit, each man is alone. Let each man keep his
temple untouched and undefiled. Then let him join hands with
others if he wishes, but only beyond his holy threshold.
For the word "We" must never be spoken, save by one's choice and
as a second thought. This word must never be placed first within
man's soul, else it becomes a monster, the root of all the evils
on earth, the root of man's torture by men, and an unspeakable lie.
The word "We" is as lime poured over men, which sets and hardens
to stone, and crushes all beneath it, and that which is white and
that which is black are lost equally in the grey of it. It is the
word by which the depraved steal the virtue of the good, by which
the weak steal the might of the strong, by which the fools steal
the wisdom of the sages.
What is my joy if all hands, even the unclean, can reach into it?
What is my wisdom, if even the fools can dictate to me? What is
my freedom, if all creatures, even the botched and impotent, are
my masters? What is my life, if I am but to bow, to agree, and to
obey?
But I am done with this creed of corruption.
I am done with the monster of "We," the word of serfdom, of
plunder, of misery, falsehood and shame.
And now I see the face of god, and I raise this god over the
earth, this god whom men have sought since men came into being,
this god who will grant them joy and peace and pride.
This god, this one word:
"I."
