The sensibilities of an individual can largely be determined by the way he uses language. Although a person can be considered articulate when he is able to express himself without hindrance, he still remains far removed from being in complete possession of his words. Its not so much that he wields language imprecisely but he arrives at a place where language itself feels inadequate. The more he expands his verbal repertoire, the more cognizant he becomes of all the things he could never possibly say. Of the things that will forever remain within him. So learning to speak and to write is paradoxically both a liberating and a woefully isolating process. A part of you becomes capable of elaborating a particular thought or feeling but simultaneously there’s also a certain recognition that is thrust upon you. A recognition that in the process of formulating words, you also increasingly distill the essence of what you would like to say or perhaps even of who you are.

Despite the fact that an individual initially learns language through participating in a social landscape, the words afforded by that context is only sufficient in as much as he remains comfortably ensconced within the confines of normalcy. As long as he is within the subset of experience that is shared by many like him, he feels reassured as he rarely ever finds himself unable to say what he thinks or feels. However, if his idiosyncrasies become more apparent, his world of experience takes a sudden departure. It grows and widens to encompass far more than what he is able to say. Everything he sees from thereon not only appears different to his eyes but also unerringly bears the imprint of his profound isolation.

In such instances, which are by no means uncommon, one is able to readily witness what I have taken to call, the essence of things. With every spoken word or written sentence there is an implicit recognition of a certain animating spirit whose demystification constitutes the chief motive of any linguistic expression. Therefore language itself is a shadow of this “essence” which we all perhaps see differently but always by ourselves. From time immemorial, we have sought to peer through this shadow and by revealing that which is hidden, piece together the fragments of its perception. Our attempt to communicate an essence that seems hopelessly personal also appears to be informed by the strange conviction that another must have also thought or felt the same in their isolation. So hidden within language, there seems to be the notion of a certain mystery which, although is felt differently by individuals, still somehow remains the same in and of itself.

Understanding any form of literature usually rests on our ability to decipher this interminable subtext. Therefore the question so much is not what the words themselves reveal in their external form but that essence which they conceal. However, it cannot be denied that what we ultimately possess are the words themselves. For our scientific temperament, it seems far fetched to even speak of such an essence that underpins language let alone claim that it can be the same for all and yet be witnessed differently. Such an obvious contradiction defies the instinct of the modern mind to seek clarity and truth. Doesn’t the nature of this essence and our attempt to formulate its picture obscure the meaning of a particular text? Despite these reservations even if I do infer, isn’t what I see ultimately my own creation?

Our answer to these questions, culturally, have been two fold. Since this essence proves to be a thorn in our royal road to truth, an individual can simply confine himself to thinking and speaking of the part of his experience that is prevalently shared. If he reduces himself to the most common denominator, there’s scarcely any room for misunderstanding. His words are almost instantly understood and language itself serves to bring him closer to others. If however, context does not permit this to happen and an individual, through fate or circumstance, widens his horizons, his attempt to translate this “essence” is either met with complete neglect or it is merely experienced in the level of its external form. In both cases, although radically different from each other, there is a subtle glorification of language. And in this verbal world there are only two possibilities. You either be with others as a fragment of who you are or be alone in your entirety.

As language is stripped of its mystical qualities and becomes exalted as the essence itself, words turn hollow. All they ultimately refer to is themselves, creating an illusory world where every verbal exchange is entirely bereft of meaning. There is some clarity that is achieved in this process but it comes at the expense of a peculiar fragmentation where people exist together and are able to talk to one another but only in the interstice of commonality. Sacrificing “essence” at the altar of this world of appearance seems inconsequential in view of the togetherness that is achieved. So the imitation of essence is gradually taken to be the essence itself making emulation the general rule of life. Therefore what rises to importance is not to become but rather to merely seem.

Nonetheless, it is quite improbable to suggest that these ramifications ensue as a direct consequence of words moving away from the immemorial purpose of encapsulating an underlying essence. Even if I were to employ language towards the end of illuminating this hidden discourse which I witness in my own peculiarity, I quite obviously lose nuance in its articulation. If individuals experienced different facets of this essence in their own eyes and expressed that to each other through a means that is, by nature, inadequate, there appears to be no possibility of even the most rudimentary understanding. Therefore it is far more expedient to speak with one another and form relationships on the foundation of our shared identities. When words encapsulate a common social footing, it precludes any kind of effort on the part of the individual to fully express himself, since the words ultimately allude to a predominant human experience. So people are united, not in virtue of a common ground they have established through the dissimilarities in their perception of an essence, but merely because they use the same words.

The disappearance of essence from the world of language, therefore, effectively marks the death of the individual. It is precisely our efforts to look beyond words, to both express and unearth the strange artifact beneath them that reminded us of our inner dichotomy. In our perception of this artifact, this truth, we were forever separated and doomed to endlessly converse through means that were always far too small for what it concealed. In this process, even if we became fragmented as individuals, we were still united in the belief that there was more to the world than what seemed to be. Our relationships consequently were predicated not on the basis of what we already had but what we could give each other. It was not on the basis of what we could say, but what we couldn’t. The mystery that loomed over language propelled us to see each other, be with one another in a place beyond words. And in this journey, what fundamentally sustained us was the conviction that despite having eyes that saw differently, what they ultimately witnessed was one and the same.