Gratitude to Mr. Attitude

    Piping hot idlis dipped in masala chai....... Doesn't go well??? Interestingly the anecdote of our lives is also similar. We are like the idli and chai who don't complement each other but still can fulfil the task assigned( In this case, satiate your hunger.)

     So our Mr Wallet( that's what I refer to my husband, reminding myself what I love him for)  is enjoying his morning idli chai with great savoury. And I'm watching him with greater tragedy. As he opens his Baboon mouth to gallop a huge morsel of idli, I tear into him. 

" Who eats these idlis dipped in chai?"

" REVOLUTIONARIES." 

The reply is spat on my face. This Baboon mouth is the next 20-20 Revolution he thinks. After the Boston Tea Party, he is about to bring the Idli Tea Party. Whatever he thinks I'm supposed to think the opposite. 

Next few minutes( I could have gone for hours but he left not on heavenly abode but other revolutionary activities), I advocate how ridiculously absurd is eating idli chai.

      How devastating it could be if my friends come to know that Mr Wallet enjoys idli chai as a meal. Neighbours will seal, isolate, and abandon our flat as if we were Corona hit. The South Indians will launch a "Mr Wallet Go Back" campaign if their beloved idlis are murdered by dipping into masala chai!!

Mr Trump might announce a Black Day on Mr Wallet's birthday. My idiosyncrasies start going international. I might as well have said the earth will not renew our membership to gravity but my Khayali Chandrayaan is pulled back by his thunderous voice.

" What I eat, what I wear, what I do is my Choice! Whether I use the water or tissue for my morning ritual, is again my choice. No friend, No neighbour, for that matter No President can rule over my Choice. As marrying you was my Choice, now not listening to you is also my Choice."

    BANG.....shuts the door and BANG I'm back to reality. I want to answer that 'Bang' with a  'Boom'. 

"You make me feel like I'm not good enough. But darling that's the biggest impetus to making ME the ME again."

I can only soothe myself with half-spoken words and quarter-kept promises. 

Is everyone's Choice only their Choice?

Does this Choice have nothing to do with other's Choices?

What if this Choice means a dead end for someone else?

There is a whirlpool of the various Choices I have made, in my mind. For some Choices I was the biological mother, happily giving birth to them. For some, I was the surrogate mother, not originally mine but accepted them willing to give them away later for sake of someone's happiness. And to some, I'm a foster parent, not mine at all but see them abandoned by someone else taking them in my arms. Each day as I care for and nurture, these various Choices somewhere my biological Choices seemed to have lost priority. My inherent Choices are not been heard even though they speak, Shout, and YELL every single day demanding my attention. If I don't follow the adopted, surrogate Choices, I will turn into A Step- Mother!!!

     Today Mr Wallet opened a new door for me as he shut the wooden one. BANG....is now the sound of the opening of old Choices and Desires. It is now a sound of opening new possibilities and new realities. Today I start nurturing the old biological Choice of writing and expressing through this blog. Deep down I thank Mr Wallet because from now on my Choices will burn a hole in his wallet. There is freedom from what he feels, what he will think and how he will react. 

I thank him for illuminating the darkness of my misunderstanding that marriage means being bound to answer and obey. But gratitude will be only deep down, on the face it has to be the Step Me- cruel, unforgiving, ever demanding...... Why?

MY CHOICE is the answer, not enough?😈😈😈