Heart ventures, Mind considers

We are inseparable. Having grown up together, we know each other better than anyone else in this world. We have shared happiness, sorrows and memories. We are incomplete without each other. However, we are by no means like-minded. We have our differences, some of which are irreconcilable. For example, I’m free spirited, in love with the idea of love. I believe someday a guy will come and just sweep me off my feet. Our love will be perfect with just the right amount of understanding and honesty between us. I never lost faith in this even for once in the past nineteen years. She on the other hand, is very skeptical. For her everything has a downside and that is the side worth considering first. She wants to have the same dream, but is acutely aware of the fact that it is only a dream and will remain so. I tried reasoning with her but to no avail. It’s not just the matters of heart where our differences lie. We have conflicting opinions about almost everything. From waking up in the morning to finally falling asleep at night, whatever comes across us becomes a subject of intense debate between the two of us. We don’t quarrel though. We are not only well aware of our differences but also the cause of those differences. Thus both of us are justified. The problem arises when either of us has to choose the way. We are considerate towards each other, but that does not mean we appreciate each other’s dominance. She resents my idealistic nature, I resent her pessimistic one. She says I’m too caught up in my dreams and ideas to be focused and practical. I say she is too scared to even hope. Interestingly, our natures are completely interchangeable when it comes to ambitions. She wants to conquer the world (not literally of course) while I just want to lead a happy, contented life with my parents. I want to give them every luxury and happiness they ever dreamt about. This is the wish I make everyday. I throw in a request for a hot boyfriend too sometimes, I kind of deserve that. She approves of this (don’t look at me, I was surprised too!). She says it’s ok to put faith in something, to pray. It gives the person a strange kind of security. I wasn't too happy when she explained it to me this way. She took away the romance of it all.

          The bone of contention between us is probably how she takes every fantasy of mine and completely ruins it with her dry logic. I have tried talking to her, even pleading with her not to do so but she fails to see my point! I told her that she doesn't need to tell my how overtly implausible I am. Deep inside I know that already. It’s just that, I don't want to give on those hopes as they have become a part of me. They give me reason to imagine, to think of a parallel world where all those dreams came true; they allow me to have world of my own. She hates this. She keeps telling me that if I were to live in any world at all, it might as well be the real one. To imagine is but a waste of time. I remember this one time when I got really mad at her. I was talking to her about a particularly favorite book of mine. I told her I could identify with certain traits of those characters. I could see beyond the evident plot and found reason in the seemingly random turn of events and behavior of the characters. It took her but a second to negate the idea. “It’s only a story!” she said, “It only portrays the whim of the author and depicts events which in no world could be true. And the characters are just as unreal.” I hated her and was determined to prove her wrong. I, as is my nature, look more closely to the emotions of the characters. More than their actions, I like to work out the emotional reason behind it. I like to search for rationality in face of completely irrational actions and event. She, on the other hand, is characterized by very strong likes and dislikes. For her, emotions are no excuse for anything. Logic is all that matters. For her the world is pretty much black and white. There are good things and bad things, real and unreal, logical person and emotional fool; and needless to say, each time she prefers to be the former. For me, the world is grey. Well, there is silver, and then there is grey, deep and light. Every person has flaws, virtues, imperfections and good qualities, all mixed in inside them. It’s just a matter of weighing them against each other.

In spite of all there is, the differences and the support, it’s only together that we are complete. It makes me who I am.  While one can never really solve the competition between the heart and the brain, one can balance them out. Indulge a little and restrict a little, dream a little without losing touch of reality, give in a little and hold back some. After all, learning how to do that is called life.

Traditions

                                       “Every day should be mother’s day”

The sun was low on the horizon. The reddish golden glow filtered in through the window blinds into the increasingly darkening room. The door to the balcony was open. I sat on an easy chair, calmly looking at the fluffy white clouds. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed. I looked around, ready to get back to the household chores once again. Then I realized that I didn’t have any today. My husband had taken our son to the zoo. The whole day they were gone. They had found a father-son ritual of their own. This was also my husband’s idea of giving me a break. I leaned back again and closed my eyes. Today, I had the house to myself.

I belonged to an upper middle class family. I was a well educated, independent woman with modern sensibilities. I had a successful career, loving husband and a happy and lively son. I lived in a posh area in a luxurious flat. In short, I had everything a middle class family would want for their daughter. Most importantly, I was happy and content with my life.

The soft breeze washed over me. I could hear the happy shouts of children playing downstairs. I smiled to myself as I remembered how much I loved lazy evenings when I was younger. I could just sit around all day long doing nothing but reflecting on my own, or making up an alternate reality in my head where I had all the things I actually have now. The light all around me faded a little more. I got up to make tea. This thought surprised me a little. I never liked tea, my husband did. Initially I made myself a separate cup of coffee but then I took to tea as well because I was too lazy to make both. Over the years I became used to it. And today somehow my husband’s choice triumphed over my own even in his absence.

A strange thought struck me. I realized how much I had changed for the sake of my husband, not because he wanted me to, but because I wanted to. In a family, the woman is expected to adjust; to take upon the family name, the likes, dislikes, even traditions. The culture or ambience in which the woman was brought up all her life just ceases to be important. But I was always very proud to point out that I was never under that pressure. My husband and his family accepted me for who I was, the way I was. Even after marriage, my husband never imposed anything on me, all our decisions were mutual. He even gave in to my tantrums more often than not. But still, unnoticed by both of us, I had changed. I had made adjustments, changed my likes and dislikes without even realizing it. My love for coffee made way for my husband’s love for tea, my favorite colors got replaced with my husband’s and then my son’s. My favorite shows made way for football matches. My hobbies took a backseat, because I didn’t have time for them anymore. These are major changes, not that I mind much, but still. The funniest part of it was, I never realized when the changes crept in to become a part of me. I remembered how my mother taught me that sacrifices are a part of being a woman. The small things that I had given up may not be great sacrifices but they counted all the same. Women like me have come long way. Became independent, strong but at the same time, we have always preferred to keep ourselves after everyone around us, a sacrifice which mostly goes unnoticed; and when the realization dawns, we even surprise ourselves.

The sun had gone down. My surroundings had become darker. The dirty golden light had almost faded to black. The laughter of the children below had also faded, except for the occasional loud “bye”, the playground below was quiet. Smiling to myself I went to the kitchen. I looked at the small bottle of coffee which my husband had bought for me. Nonchalantly I reached for the tea leaves.

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