Ruminating

Walls and spears.

Thats all there is.

Walls built with deaf bricks. Mute bricks. Uncaring. Sterile. Unable to melt. They can only crack. Or dislodge. And then fall on me. A quick blow and I am left to tend the wound.

Spears built long and sharpened to perfection. Loping across walls. Finding their mark. A quick stab and I am left bleeding. Leaning against my wall. Drawing strength from those hard red blocks. Frozen in anger.

I tried. I try. We all try. And yet-- all we come away with are walls and spears. And we run in circles..like the planets orbiting the sun. We orbit our blinding stupidities, our amazing ignorance, our astounding conciets. And we trip on the same stones, the same cracks, the same dry gravel. Yet we run...round and round with our walls and spears.

But for what?

How long can you last without a kind word? A caring glance? A loving embrace? How long can you stand in front of the mirror staring at your open wounds? How long can you bleed and still keep breathing? How long do you want to run? Till the energy of your soul is sucked away from you? Till word by word, breath by breath, blow by blow--you are nothing. Just fine, ground salt mixing into sand. A shadow of who you were. A memory of what you were going to be.

Its over.

All over.

And yet you are running....

With your walls and spears.

Redemption

Here I am. Redeeming myself. This is penitence for being 'absent' during peak rush hour at home. This is payment for being 'busy' at work all day. This is my fine for attending gym for an hour. Thats what it boils down to. Unspoken guilt. Unvoiced pressures. Implicit expectations. Spilling out of my kitchen's shelves, tumbling out of cupboards. Cannot be repressed. And only I hear them. Only I see them. I carefully gather them and place them back gently and shut the door firmly.

The strength of a liberated woman lies not in the act of independance, but in the forebearance of the consequences.

Reviewing my day, I am surprised I am still standing -- up at 5AM, worked non-stop till 4 PM, work out 4:30- 5:30 PM, shopping for formal clothes: til 7PM, cooking/serving dinner till 8PM, putting both kids to bed, running/folding 4 loads of laundry and now office work again.

And still...I am guilty. Judged. Condemned. What can I say? The blessing-- its not by Sri. The curse-- its mostly by me.

Two Blind Mice

Once upon a time, two mice were caught in a cage with a piece of cheesecake. Giddy with delight, they danced holding hands, sang songs, told tales of great laughter and smiled even when they slept. And so many days passed.

Then one morning, they woke up and stared at the cheesecake in confusion. So many days, so many nights, so many nibbles, so many bites—they could not believe it was still in sight.

That day they fought all day. They found plenty of cause -there wasn’t enough space in that cage, the cheesecake left crumbs all over, the smell of it was overpowering, it was going to give them a tummy ache—and so on and on they went till night fell.

Then they supped on a piece of cheesecake, bid each other goodnight and fell into sound sleep.
The next morning, one mouse woke up and decided the cheesecake was as good as ever and requested the other mouse for affirmation. The other mouse could not bear this broach of privacy and freedom and promptly vowed to hate it forever. Both threw themselves at the door and bemoaned their fate when it did not budge. And so they fought all that day and well into the night.

They stopped only to sup on a small piece of the cake and then fell into sound sleep.

The mice awoke with a start. The cage was full of sunlight. The sky was blue. The floor was freshly swept. The door lay open. The cheesecake was gone.

The mice rushed about in horror. Grief-stricken they ranted at each other. Furious and helpless they panicked all day.

At night they huddled together and could not sleep a wink…

And that,my friend,is marriage