The half-empty plate
Sometimes you discover life in a grain of rice. At lunchtime, I brought out the dish that had rice covered with stewed vegetables. Capsicum, carrot, cauliflower, spring onion, beans. They glazed as the water and touch of oil broke their reverie.
I emptied the mix on the plate. What had looked quite adequate in the pan was really a very tiny portion. Can heat evaporate solids? Or did I just see more than there was in the vessel? Perhaps it was too small and the food filled it up?
The plate looked forlorn. I spread out the food, extending it towards the edge. I had been deceived by its appearance once; I could do it again, this time planning the deception.
I took small bites. Chewed slowly. Relished every scrunch of the vegetables. Each grain of rice occupied my mind. Have you masticated a single grain? It isn't easy. It is like something that you want badly and is within your reach, and then it just disappears before your very eyes.
I was holding on to rice grains, and thought about the many things that have escaped. Were they so small that I could not hold on to them? Or were they meant to tantalise and leave?
It would have taken a quick call to order something and have it delivered at the doorstep. The fridge that usually has quite a few tidbits did not have anything that would satiate hunger. I am happy enough even with hummus on rusk, but it wasn't there.
I pulled out a bar of chocolate. I eat chocolate everyday, usually dark. I seem to like my sweets slightly bitter, but I rarely sugarcoat naked bitter. Instead, I let it loll on my tongue till it dissolves like sweetness.
It was when I was biting into the chunk of chocolate that I thought about empty plates, empty stomachs. I cannot fake sympathy. I know that reality is nothing close. This is not even an analogy.
I was thinking about emptiness. Can it ever be calculated or measured? Did I deliberately choose to sit with a half-empty plate because the halfness is a more potent comment on the fullness of the empty?
She writes with anguish and pessimism, a journey into hearts of darkness with no light at the end of that distorted prism, mainly because as she astutely observes, “every few years Pakistan writes a new fiction” to keep the embers alive. ”
—India Today
About Farzana
To be categorised is near-death. It would be nice to say that one is a literary vagabond, but it just does not convey fully the sense of rootlessness and ruthlessness one strives for constantly.
Have written opinion pieces, feature articles and interviews for...
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Farzana’s Favorite Books
Every writer, besides the ones I have listed, who has had something to convey that leaves me with the taste of bitter chocolate...that I like.
Fullness of empty
Farzana,
Hummus and dark chocolate are my favorites.
When I was studying English in Japanese public high school, I memorized empty for the meaning of full. This is my true story. Later I was amazed to find out how wrong I was according to my dictionary, and I had no idea then that someday I could say to myself I was right in high school after all. Empty and full are antonym, and they often contradict in my life.
Separately, when we use the word empty, often emptiness is relative. Full is similar. But in my opinion, empty is so much better than full because fullness of empty sounds better than emptiness of full. And empty we can fill it with whatever we like, but full, we cannot. Let’s face it. We can’t do much with fullness.
Keiko: Yes, you have echoed
Keiko:
Yes, you have echoed my thoughts here. It is interesting how you learned the meaning, though. However, if something is full standing beside the empty then the empty will look emptier.
Indeed, we can do a lot with empty. It seems like my full-time vocation :)
The phrase "My cup runneth over" does seem to convey that fullness can burst and fall out.
Thank you, as always, for sharing your experiences with such nuances.
~F
How does one fake sympathy?
How does one fake sympathy? I imagine that is very hard to do. I like dark bitter chocolate too but even if I ate a bar, I still could not fake sympathy.
Keiko, I love your analogy! I like empty too so I can fill it with my personal choices.
Faking it
Rina:
I would not ever try to fake sympathy or pretty much anything, not even pretend that the bitter chocolate is not as bitter as I'd have liked it to be.
But, people do manage to do so - fake it. That's what keeps much of social interaction on an even keel. How do they do it? I wish I knew. Or maybe not.
~F