Monday, July 23, 2007

Days of their lives

It’s only when others tell you how unfortunate their lives are that you realize how fortunate you are. And while you complain and moan and sulk at miniscule real (or imagined) hurts, there are others for whom a life like yours would be a luxury they can only dream of. This is what I mean when I say I’m grateful, though unfortunately it slips my unreliable mind quite often.

I wasn’t prepared when my colleague suddenly began telling me of her marriage problems. There I was thinking we were just going to have a pleasant lunch together when I end up with a bleeding ear. It’s a tale of years of jealousy, possessiveness, lack of appreciation and much drama culminating in threats of divorce. And she’s a year younger than I am! Their problems began because of the (geographic) distance between them but according to her, even when they lived together the problems didn’t end there. She even revealed that she felt rushed into marriage amidst all this because her family had convinced her that her problems would be solved once they were married. This is how much damage meddling people who blindly uphold traditions but have very little insight into a person’s needs, can cause to the gullible and lost.

And to my horror, she continues to tells me in fatalistic tones that they are now discussing having children. It was an effort to bite my tongue from telling her what a bad idea that would be; dragging children into the mess without sorting themselves out first. It’s amazing though how she can function normally at work with all this happening in the background.

I’m not particularly close to these people, both this colleague of mine and the other mother of three who told me about the lost forbidden love of her life. And yet I tend to be at the receiving end of such woeful tales, things you would hesitate to tell someone who hasn’t been your best friend for at least 10 years. I say ‘receiving end’ because I never probe, I assume people are as private as I am when it comes to their personal lives, and yet. I’m beginning to think I must have ‘Mother Confessor’ branded on my forehead.

But I lap it up, all of this, and keep my mouth shut, everywhere except here that is.

Lucky you :)

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