The tendency of escapism in B. Wordsworth by V.S. Naipaul.

    

The tendency of escapism in B. Wordsworth by V.S. Naipaul.

In order to deal with the crisis of identity and loneliness and his inability to fit in the world that detests him for his colonial ways and ideas, B. Wordsworth resorts to escapism. Man’s quest for happiness and dissatisfaction with the existing condition make him take refuge in any one of the mind’s “labyrinthine ways.” B. Wordsworth chose to give vent to his suppressed desires by writing Poetry and declaring to the world that, "I am a poet." I said, "A good poet?" He said, "The greatest in the world.

''B. Wordsworth'' is set in post colonial Trinidad, Port of Spain during the Great Depression, at a time when the country was experiencing the great economic crisis. Financial constraints and dire poverty compelled people to refrain from indulging in the entertainment of refined sensibilities. With no buyers or appreciators for Poetry, poets were losing the inspiration to write great poetry. When B. Wordsworth tried to sell his poem on Mothers, he was snubbed in the most insulting way. " B. Wordsworth said, "It is the poet's tragedy." And he put the paper back in his pocket.” Though, it appeared he didn’t mind, it would have given him blood oozing gashes. This could have been responsible for his aloofness and isolation from the common folks.

B. Wordsworth makes his comparison with William Wordsworth. He says that his name is “Black Wordsworth. White Wordsworth was my brother. We share one heart.”The tendency of escapism had affected him in the same way as it affected Wordsworth, the great poet of Nature. Wordsworth escaped from the din and bustle of the city life symbolized by restrictions, concrete and a life sans leisure, where there is no time to stand and stare to the serene and calm, glorious and luxuriant Nature.  Similarly B. Wordsworth loves to be in the rich company of Nature and derives pleasure by watching bees for hours. “The man said, "I like watching bees. Sonny, do you like watching bees?" I said, "I ain't have the time." He shook his head sadly. He said, "That's what I do, I just watch. I can watch ants for days. Have you ever watched ants? And scorpions, and centipedes, and congorees-have you watched those?" I can watch a small flower like the morning glory and cry.”

Wordsworth took shelter in the lap of Nature because it provided him relief from the vicious realities of life. Nature has a soothing effect on the aggrieved souls. This is proved by  B. Wordsworth. The narrator recalls that after being beaten up mercilessly by his mother he went to B. Wordsworth's house.” I was so angry, my nose was bleeding. B. Wordsworth said, "Stop crying, and we will go for a walk.". We went for a walk. We walked down St. Clair Avenue to the Savannah and we walked to the race-course. B. Wordsworth said, "Now, let us lie on the grass and look up at the sky, and I want you to think how far those stars are from us." I did as he told me, and I saw what he meant. I felt like nothing, and at the same time I had never felt so big and great in all my life. I forgot all my anger and all my tears and all the blows.”

William Wordsworth schooled himself to see into the life of things. He saw and appreciated the world with the delightful eyes of love and passion. His escapism provided him consolation and comfort in distress and pain and joy in the acts of everyday life. The same was true of B. Wordsworth. “We went for long walks together. We went to the Botanical Gardens and the Rock Gardens. We climbed Chancellor Hill in the late afternoon and watched the darkness fall on Port of Spain, and watched the lights go on in the city and on the ships in the harbour. He did everything as though he were doing it for the first time in his life. He did everything as though he were doing some church rite. He would say to me, "Now, how about having some ice cream?" And when I said yes, he would grow very serious and say, "Now, which café should we patronize?" The world became a most exciting place.”

Wordsworth’s escapism was from the fallen man and the fallen world. He glorified the child because he considered the child a  manifestation of the unstained purity  and power. He knew that his binding with man would “blind him to the loveliness that exists.” B. Wordsworth’s escapism echoes the same. He loves isolation. He is not shown interacting with anyone except the narrator. The narrator is a young innocent and inquisitive boy, devoid of any cunning or vice. He loves observing nature and is the poet’s soul companion. The poet loves him, feeds him and shares with him his dreams and ambitions and makes him a part of his escapist world. He said, "In my yard I have the best mango tree in Port of Spain. And now the mangoes are ripe and red and very sweet and juicy. I have waited here for you to tell you this and to invite you to come and eat some of my mangoes. He was right. The mangoes were sweet and juicy. I ate about six.”

Just like Wordsworth, he lived a solitary life in the lap of Nature. " He lived in Alberto Street in a one-roomed hut placed right in the centre of the lot. The yard seemed all green. There was a big mango tree. There was a coconut tree and there was a plum tree. The place looked wild, as though it wasn't in the city at all. You couldn't see all the big concrete houses in the street.” His love for the uninhabited wild made him treasure the damp bushes around his house. He had a romantic tale, most probably his own story to support his stand. One day I asked him, "Mister Wordsworth, why you does keep all this bush in your yard? Ain't it does make the place damp?" He said, "Listen, and I will tell you a story. Once upon a time a boy and girl met each other and they fell in love. They loved each other so much they got married. They were both poets. He loved words. She loved grass and flowers and trees. They lived happily in a single room, and then one day, the girl poet said to the boy poet, 'We are going to have another poet in the family.' But this poet was never born, because the girl died, and the young poet died with her inside her. And the girl's husband was very sad, and he said he would never touch a thing in the girl's garden. And so the garden remained, and grew high and wild.”  “The past is deep,” expresses   love for the past and dwelling on the reminiscences of love, separation and death of the loved ones were some other attributes of escapism.

Throughout the story, the poet calypsonian lived in the land of fantasy and imagination. It is said that “the spirit of man craves for something perfect, infinite and absolute.” Similarly B. Wordsworth created around him the aura of being ‘the greatest poet in the world’ and the greatest poem. “This is the greatest poem in the world…I have been working on it for more than five years now. I will finish it in about twenty-two years from now, that is, if I keep on writing at the present rate. I just write one line a month. I hope to distil the experiences of a whole month into that single line of poetry. So, in twenty-two years, I shall have written a poem that will sing to all humanity."But his dreams devoid of action could not see the light of the day. As he neared old age, the realization dawned. At the enthusiastic questions regarding his poetic success, he maintained a stoic silence. The stark reality was before him. He chose not to keep the innocent boy in dark. He loved his gullibility and naivety. He had helped  him in escaping from the lashes and abuses of his mother. Now was the time of revelation. When the narrator approached him, he looked old and weak. He said, "The poem is not going well."It was obvious that the pangs of failure had been gnawing his soul. He said, "When I was twenty I felt the power within myself." Then, almost in front of my eyes, I could see his face growing older and more tired. He said, "But that-that was a long time ago." And then-I felt so keenly, Death on the shrinking face. "He said, "When I have finished this story, I want you to promise that you will go away and never come back to see me. Do you promise?" I nodded. He said, That story I told you about the boy poet and the girl poet, do you remember that? That wasn't true. It was something I just made up. All this talk about poetry and the greatest poem in the world, that wasn't true, either.” The boy who was very sensitive and emotional could not bear to see his friend in such a wretched state. He ran home crying. His death was  the ultimate means of maturity for the young boy. For Wordsworth, it was just a figment of imagination or a truth he did not want the boy to see as it opened chapters of irrepressible pain. But for the boy it was “Truth that woke up to perish never.”