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The Extraordinary Lives of Ordinary People

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Gauri Jhangiani

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“Indeed, I propose the idea that confusing strength with masculinity is in truth not a feminist ideal, but a misogynistic idea. He is no friend of woman who says women must act masculine to be equal to men, because that merely makes the word ‘feminine’ equal ‘inferior’.”

“Who was it who said, 'the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless: peacocks and lilies, for instance'?" "I think that was Ruskin," says Jack. "Ha!" laughs Charles. "There's truth in that. Could have included women, too." Charles laughs loudly at his own joke. "Only if you're to assume a woman's sole purpose in life is to look good," counters Lillian. "Well of course... there's looking good... and there's child-bearing," adds Charles, still looking ahead at the bird. Lillian grips the bag in her lap a little more tightly. If the artist seated behind them is aware of the tension, he deflects artfully. "I think Ruskin misses the point," he says. "Beauty is never useless. It has purpose. Look at us, sitting here. We've ceased all other activity just to pause for a moment and wonder at the sight of this bird. The extraordinary jolts us from the mundane and makes us feel something. It reminds us we're alive." "Rather like art," says Lillian, after a moment. Jack meets her gaze in the wing-mirror and nods. "Yes. Art. Music. Love." Lillian drops her gaze, unexpected heat flooding her cheeks.”

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Those that truly love have roots that grow towards each other underground, and, when all the pretty blossoms have fallen from their branches, they find that they are one tree and not two.”