"The Unbearable Lightness Of Being" By Milan Kundera
19
Then Tomas crossed the Czech border and was welcomed by columns of Russian
tanks. He had to stop his car and wait a half hour before they passed. A terrifying
soldier in the black Uniform of the armored forces stood at the crossroads directing
traffic as if every road in the country belonged to him and him alone.
Es muss sein!
Tomas repeated to himself, but then he began to doubt. Did it really have
to be?
Yes, it was unbearable for him to stay in Zurich imagining
Tereza living on her own in
Prague.
But how long would he have been tortured by compassion? All his life? A year? Or a
month? Or only a week?
How could he have known? How could he have gauged it? Any schoolboy can do
experiments in the physics laboratory to test various scientific hypotheses. But man,
because he has only one life to live, cannot conduct experiments to test whether to
follow his passion (compassion) or not.
It was with these thoughts in mind that he opened the door to his flat. Karenin made the
homecoming easier by jumping up on him and licking his face. The desire to fall into
Tereza's arms (he could still feel it while getting into his car in Zurich) had completely
disintegrated. He fancied himself standing opposite her in the midst of a snowy plain,
the two of them shivering from the cold.
From the very beginning of the occupation, Russian military airplanes had flown over
Prague all night long. Tomas, no
longer accustomed to the noise, was unable to fall
asleep.
Twisting and turning beside the slumbering Tereza, he recalled something she had told
him a long time before in the course of an insignificant conversation. They had been
talking about his friend Z. when she announced, If I hadn't met you, I'd certainly have
fallen in love with him.
Even then, her words had left Tomas in a strange state of melancholy, and now he
realized it was only a matter of chance that Tereza loved him and not his friend Z. Apart
from
her consummated love for Tomas, there were, in the realm of possibility, an infinite
number of unconsummated loves for other men.
We all reject out of hand the idea that the love of our life may be something light or
weightless; we presume our love is what must be, that without it our life would no longer
be the same; we feel that Beethoven himself, gloomy and awe-inspiring,
is playing the
Es muss sein!
to our own great love.
Tomas often thought of Tereza's remark about his friend Z. and came to the conclusion
that the love story of his life exemplified not
Es muss sein!
(It must be so), but rather
Es
konnte auch anders sein
(It could just as well be otherwise).
Seven years earlier, a complex neurological case
happened
to have been discovered at
the hospital in Tereza's town. They called in the chief surgeon of Tomas's hospital in
"The Unbearable Lightness Of Being" By Milan Kundera
20
Prague
for consultation, but the chief surgeon of Tomas's hospital
happened
to be
suffering from sciatica, and because he could not move he sent Tomas to the provincial
hospital in his place. The town had several hotels, but Tomas
happened
to be given a
room in the one where Tereza was employed. He
happened
to have had enough free
time before his train left to stop at the hotel restaurant. Tereza
happened to
be on duty,
and
happened
to be serving Tomas's table. It had taken six chance happenings to push
Tomas
towards Tereza, as if he had little inclination to go to her on his own.
He had gone back to Prague because of her. So fateful a decision resting on so
fortuitous a love, a love that would not even have existed had it not been for the chief
surgeon's sciatica seven years earlier. And that woman, that personification of absolute
fortuity, now again lay asleep beside him, breathing deeply.
It was late at night. His stomach started acting up as it tended to do in times of psychic
stress.
Once or twice her breathing turned into mild snores. Tomas felt no compassion. All he
felt was the pressure in his stomach and the despair of having returned.
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