Choices...
She was intently listening to the dripping sound as she held up one hand high to let the droplets pour into the steaming water inside the bathtub. It was like the sound of consciousness diving into sub-consciousness, a journey she desperately wanted to undergo in her present sleepy and tired mood. She was asking herself what she was really tired of. Her job-life, that gave her little satisfaction? Her relations, which constantly redefined themselves? Her aspirations and her dreams, that were fulfilled and yet to be achieved? Or her life as a whole....she wondered.
Why she needed to work, she thought. She wasn't the bread-earner of the house and maybe if she asked for it her husband would provide her with enough pocket money. May be that would have been his way for channeling out his guilt of not being able to spend time with her. Was he really as busy as he portrayed his job life to be? Or was it the romance with an old flame who now happened to be his colleague as well. She had tried to get used to the negligence but then with his futile attempts to cover it up reminded her more about their failing marriage. The husband when confronted had denied it vehemently, tried to make up for the time being. As time progressed, both of them started spinning the protective cocoons around them. They both knew that the cocoon was there and cannot be un-spun.
Looking back over the years, her relations had changed their natures and borderlines as well. A mother, who once was the most dreaded to share the secrets, became a friend whom you can open your heart to. As age engulfed her mother, the older of the two ladies became the demanding child, most of the time also the illogical one. Once again the warmth in the relationship was replaced with the responsibility, only this time the roles reversed.
Her father had been her first friend - memories of early childhood had been doted with daddy and his princess. Sadly when she needed him the most during the adolescent years, he withdrew from her. The growing up years saw a wall scaling up. The wall never crumbled till her father became the child again a few years before he died. The loneliness was filled up by a friend who went on to become the lover then the husband and then the stranger again. The loneliness persisted once again.
She had always known that she didn't posses the extra-ordinary talents that take you to richness and fame. She was a mediocre surrounded by other mediocre people, who had to excel each-other to fulfill the desires of none other than their parents. Her parents planned it well. They got her the right tutors who made her study hard to secure admission to the right institutes. Once the momentum is gained, it thrusts you only in the forward direction.
By the time you are burnt out, it's time for you pose for your convocation photo with the degree in hand. Before you blink the hungry corporations looking for fresh human raw materials to run their well-oiled corporate mechanics pull you in. The moment you feel proud of yourself is the same moment you realize this was not what you hoped for. This contradictory feelings takes you across the crests and troughs of your job-life all the way. She had felt even more tired when she tried to draw pride from her achievements.
Overall her life was no different from the girl next door she thought. She was as lonely as was anyone else. Yet the society had always in its own ways pulled her inside the crowd to make her feel that she was not alone. The illusion of achievements was beginning to fade away. She knew she needed to her job not to achieve but for her own satisfaction only. Her mother still hanged to her as she had clinged to her momma when she was not equipped to handle things on her own. The very act her husband tried to cover his aloofness was the proof that he had been able to come to terms with his negligence. Did that mean somewhere deep down her husband was still in love with her? Her meaningless existance, her simplest life was beginning to make a little sense, much like the drops that fell from her body onto the water.
As the sleepy coldness was pulling its covers, she felt she never was in love with life more than what she was now. Her hand was no longer held up, but was sinking below the depth of the calm waters. The blood gently flowing from the split veins of her hand was mingling with the water, painting the white porcelian bathtub pink. She never had longed so much to be alive than what she felt at that very moment, just a few seconds before she submerged into the empty darkness.
Why she needed to work, she thought. She wasn't the bread-earner of the house and maybe if she asked for it her husband would provide her with enough pocket money. May be that would have been his way for channeling out his guilt of not being able to spend time with her. Was he really as busy as he portrayed his job life to be? Or was it the romance with an old flame who now happened to be his colleague as well. She had tried to get used to the negligence but then with his futile attempts to cover it up reminded her more about their failing marriage. The husband when confronted had denied it vehemently, tried to make up for the time being. As time progressed, both of them started spinning the protective cocoons around them. They both knew that the cocoon was there and cannot be un-spun.
Looking back over the years, her relations had changed their natures and borderlines as well. A mother, who once was the most dreaded to share the secrets, became a friend whom you can open your heart to. As age engulfed her mother, the older of the two ladies became the demanding child, most of the time also the illogical one. Once again the warmth in the relationship was replaced with the responsibility, only this time the roles reversed.
Her father had been her first friend - memories of early childhood had been doted with daddy and his princess. Sadly when she needed him the most during the adolescent years, he withdrew from her. The growing up years saw a wall scaling up. The wall never crumbled till her father became the child again a few years before he died. The loneliness was filled up by a friend who went on to become the lover then the husband and then the stranger again. The loneliness persisted once again.
She had always known that she didn't posses the extra-ordinary talents that take you to richness and fame. She was a mediocre surrounded by other mediocre people, who had to excel each-other to fulfill the desires of none other than their parents. Her parents planned it well. They got her the right tutors who made her study hard to secure admission to the right institutes. Once the momentum is gained, it thrusts you only in the forward direction.
By the time you are burnt out, it's time for you pose for your convocation photo with the degree in hand. Before you blink the hungry corporations looking for fresh human raw materials to run their well-oiled corporate mechanics pull you in. The moment you feel proud of yourself is the same moment you realize this was not what you hoped for. This contradictory feelings takes you across the crests and troughs of your job-life all the way. She had felt even more tired when she tried to draw pride from her achievements.
Overall her life was no different from the girl next door she thought. She was as lonely as was anyone else. Yet the society had always in its own ways pulled her inside the crowd to make her feel that she was not alone. The illusion of achievements was beginning to fade away. She knew she needed to her job not to achieve but for her own satisfaction only. Her mother still hanged to her as she had clinged to her momma when she was not equipped to handle things on her own. The very act her husband tried to cover his aloofness was the proof that he had been able to come to terms with his negligence. Did that mean somewhere deep down her husband was still in love with her? Her meaningless existance, her simplest life was beginning to make a little sense, much like the drops that fell from her body onto the water.
As the sleepy coldness was pulling its covers, she felt she never was in love with life more than what she was now. Her hand was no longer held up, but was sinking below the depth of the calm waters. The blood gently flowing from the split veins of her hand was mingling with the water, painting the white porcelian bathtub pink. She never had longed so much to be alive than what she felt at that very moment, just a few seconds before she submerged into the empty darkness.
Interesting account. Typical of life these days. I totally agree with what has been said about work life-Make your passion your profession
Posted by
Anonymous |
October 23, 2006 8:40 PM
Hiren, are you always logged into blogger ? Was wondering as your comment was posted barely a few seconds after I put on the first draft of the post :) Thanks for the link.Would've a deeper look from home later.
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
October 23, 2006 10:01 PM
my passion is being a couch-potato, anyone have any idea how to make that into a profession
Posted by
jhantu |
October 23, 2006 10:10 PM
Jhantu,one way of doing that could be getting very very rich that you could afford to be the couch-potato. But since to do that normally you got to slog your ass off, the only easier way is to find a billionaire's sole daughter and get married to her. Even if she dumps you later, the alimony should be enough for you to fulfill your ambition. Knowing your killer instincts I am placing my bets on you :)
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
October 23, 2006 10:26 PM
was that the only way out for her? Cannot agree there simply because a life has more meaning than has been given credit. And the fact that she longed to be alive moments only after it could not be undone speaks volumes. irony. huh?
Posted by
M (tread softly upon) |
October 25, 2006 1:22 AM
M,that huh was kinda scary.I swear on Debi Olai-Chondi,that I thought of adding this line at the end, "After adjusting to the white haze,when she re-opened her eyes she saw two faces behind the nurse's white aporn : her husband all guilt-laden and a mother trying to control her tears".But then again blame it on the killer(?!?) instinct.Kasam se next time I would try only happy-happy stuff.Nobody gets killed,nobody dies.Everyone just lives happily ever-after.Uimaa,that sounds so much Ekta Kapoorish.
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
October 26, 2006 7:26 AM
simply super.
- Bonatellis
Posted by
Anonymous |
November 29, 2006 1:47 PM
Bona-dada,thanku :)
Posted by
Chilla-Bong |
December 02, 2006 1:28 PM