Three Miss-Inspiration of My Life

Behind every great man, there is support of a great woman. Man, though they came from Mars need support of woman who came from Venus. In Chinese, man and woman are yin and yang factor. Man and woman may not be able to live with each other. More importantly, they can’t live without each other. The masculine nature has to be balanced by feminine charm. Without co-existence, the very human life on the earth would be put into jeopardy unless you are a saint sprung from lotus. Even Lord Buddha needed both father and mother to enter this world. Many claimed that man like Buddha was born from ribs of Mahamaya. But in heart of my heart, I wondered how he could come into earth without feminine crevice that man desired so much. Without father’s injection of fluid, even greatest man can’t be born unless you are Jesus Christ supposedly delivered by Virgin Mary though I suspect Virgin (ironically) Married(not Mary) could be the apt explanation. Thus, man needs woman and woman needs man for their very existence in life. 

Like every great man has support of great woman, so did I in my life sometimes in positive way and other times in negative way. Either way, I have support of many great women in my life. Imagine Gandhi becoming Mahatma if his wife was as demanding as others. His wife sacrificed great deal of family life and carnal desire. Even their children sacrificed their ambitions for great but selfish ideology of Mahatma Gandhi. On other hand, Socrates had wife who always belittled and tongue-lashed him. Without her acerbic and cruel nature, Socrates wouldn’t have become greatest philosopher of the world. Where else would Socrates learned truth about life from and practiced patience.

As an ordinary man living an ordinary life, woman always have been inspiration of my life. For that I am thankful for all women who crossed my path. Apart from many great women in my life, I am inspired by three women to write nonsense and senseless articles about my life. However, I have to admit all my writing goes directly into trash bin because I know it is worthless. Nevertheless, I thanked those three women of my life (excluding my sister of course).

Firstly, Thinley was poetry of my life. I would be lost in her perpetual beauty describing every creases and shapes of her body. I would be immersed in her calm forms, sweet voices and compassionate eyes. Every night, I would find myself writing a poem likening her voice to that of cuckoo (not alluding to its brain of course), her eyes to still water, her tears to morning dews, her nature to Nangsa of north and her face to 15^th day moon. I would cry at her slight displeasure and would dance at her slight eyelift. However, the dreams must dreams and people ought to wake up to reality anyway. I woke up from poetry of my dream when she left me for another guy.

The sad day of my life began as I was tortured in college by her leaving. How I wished I had never gone to study in foreign land. How I wished I was a dead even before I met her. I felt my heart was broken into thousand shreds. But then life must go on. The broken dreams had to be rebuilt shred by shred like a slab of stone put together to build a majestic mansion. Then there came a prose of my life Deki.

Slowly, I tried to construct my life like a novel plot by plot, word by word and step by step. I would write a story painting her as angel in white (she was) rescuing me from nightmare. I would write a story keeping me as hero and her as heroine completing the story with happily ever after as I have read in many fairy tales and watched in many hindi movies. But as a human, we can’t live in poetry and novels. We can’t live in imaginary world for we are human conditioned to face high and low of life, roughness and smoothness of journey and sunshine and rains of emotions.

Then came the reality of my life. Before I knew we had relationship. She was pregnant. Before I could blink twice, I was becoming father. They say happiness of being father is unrivaled. But I feel nothing; no happiness, mirth or excitement. I just feel sorry for myself. I feel sorry for getting myself into mud of reality. I feel sorry for giving myself a chance to be dragged into mundane life where quarrelling, shouting and disagreement filled the atmosphere of my existence.

Once again, I want to fly into world of imagination where I can write how painful life on the earth is. I want to write about groans and moans of human life. I want to write about disagreements of relationships. I want to live in the land of peace. But then, as I am deep in reality, I cannot grow the wings of imagination. I believe I have to rot in reality cursing the life I never had.