The Answer Must Be In The Waiting
Yes, yes, we're magicians.
Samuel Beckett’s Waiting For Godot is a remarkable two act play about nothing. The true greatness of this play is that it manages to be more relevant than ever now, simply because it is a play about nothing.
The title gives away the entire plot. The play follows the life of two homeless men who are waiting for Godot.
Throughout the play, we get to know nothing about Godot or how these two men ended up waiting for Godot. The reader is left with plenty of questions by the end of the play: Why do both the acts look exactly similar? Why do our protagonists confuse everyone to be Godot? Have they never met Godot before? Do they not know what Godot looks like? Do they even know who Godot is? Then who or what are they waiting for? For how long are they waiting? Why are they waiting?
I believe the reason one is left with so many questions has partly got to do with the fact that one has always been made to believe that there are answers to everything. There must be an answer. If there is no answer, what was the question supposed to tell us? The human mind is driven by this dichotomy of questions and answers. It’s what helps us arrive at meaning, if there is to be one. Meaning is the ground we need to walk upon, to navigate our life through the chaos of the world, if there is to be one.
“What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come… ”
The only question that Beckett asks is if there are truly any questions to be asked.
Waiting for Godot has been aptly defined as “the drama of unknowingness”. There is nothing much to follow in the story. No great revelation or life changing pathos. It leaves you with nothing. So much so, that the reader has no option but to strip down the entire play to find some abstract concepts or metaphors that it represents. Surely, there must be something in it. Something that we are unable to understand at first. Something that will suddenly make sense like a great insight and we would be able to see the whole point behind the action. Don’t we look at life in a similar way? Strip everything down till it makes sense. Can’t there be something in nothingness too? In a way that it still occupies a space in our minds.
I am someone who often stumbles upon questions. Questions that have no answers. Questions I need answers to. This bothers me with another question: Why am I so bothered to find answers? Will the answer make it any better? I look around myself and notice that everyone is waiting for an answer. Waiting for something or someone. Sometimes, knowing what we are waiting for, comforts us. It gives us some meaning, some purpose, if there is to be any. I am slowly learning to wait, while still not knowing what I am waiting for. Waiting for someone to return. Waiting for the unfamiliar to become familiar again. Waiting for things to get better. Waiting to know what better means. Waiting to slow down. Waiting to just exist. Waiting for answers, if there are to be any.
I have a tendency to go back to the place where I first met someone. Or read those old texts. Relive those old memories. I know nothing is going to change. No one or nothing can give me the answer that I am waiting for. Come walking towards me and give me all that I was waiting for. Maybe I don’t know the answer myself. Do we ever really leave? Move on? Or do we keep coming back and wait?
Wait for Godot.
I know Godot will never return. Yet I choose to wait for Godot. Aren’t we all waiting for Godot? Isn’t the answer in the waiting?
Estragon: “We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?
Vladimir: Yes, yes, we're magicians.
Hello everyone! Hope you are keeping well. Today I wanted to share an old piece I had written about a work of literature that I admire a lot. Like I often say, reading Beckett should be considered as deliberate self-harm. Waiting for Godot was my first introduction to it, followed by yet another mind-breaking play Endgame. I am currently reading Beckett's earlier work, including his first novel Murphy. To me Beckett and his writing provides an opportunity to understand the intricate absurdity of our times. I keep returning to Waiting for Godot as if I am still trying to make sense of it, when there is none. I am sending you an initial draft of my latest project. Hope it gives you a glimpse of what I am trying to find in this play, where there is nothing to find. Is there something you are waiting for too? Something for no reason? Feel free to share your thoughts with me.
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When Life Gives You Melon
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Aakash xx