Perspective

Perspective. A rather interesting English word that people from some countries are apt to mispronounce. But words are words, and Mangoes doubly so. One must not judge Mangoes or words by the apparent meaning that they portray, but, one must always continue the search for the true intrinsic meaning. Talking about finding the true intrinsic meaning of life, love and everything would have to include the stray asymptotic discussion on marriage and relationships.

I for one take immense displeasure in someone else taking displeasure in my displeasure at someone elses displeasure. Men will not understand the previous sentence. Women will. And herein lies the importance of perspective. Women will understand it, and ponder over it, get depressed, bake cakes, cry with girlfriends and feel extremely emotionally hollow and incomplete and unloved and unappreciated ruminating over this one thing. Men will only get bored and irritated and finally flee the situation to wallow away in luxirious stupor and the company of doting friends. Herein lies the import of perspective.

There you are, doe eyed sprightly young boy of twenty eight years and two hundred and twenty eight pounds. The elevator had just crossed the first floor, you are alone, and, you are screaming “Love me! Love me!” at the top of your lungs. This example is not about your emotional need to love and have companionship. This example is about your psychological issues. Or some of them at best. Pondering over such outburst of emotional non creativity makes people think. The minute the clock flies past the twenty five year mark, each tick is like a gong, counting down to the time of deathly silence preceding the instant the marriage contract is signed.

Once the ink is dry marriages are like Chicken Haleem: noone likes them, everyone thinks that they are missing out on something, everyone realizes that there are better versions available, it is tasty yet not as much as they would want, it is painful and evil like a tomato, and most of all, they are both fattening and addictive. Alas, the poor screamer, married and loving tomatoes. Forever and ever and ever. And all that he wanted was love and a little understanding. Alas poor Yorick. Alas.

مرہوم بہت ہى اچھے آدمى تھےـ شادى ہو گئى، اور پھر بربادى ہو گئى ـ بہت افسوس ہوا مجھے توـ ہمارے تو چچا کے خاص دوست تھےـ

But what can we say. Except to extol the virtues of life steeped in the understanding of perspective. In a relationship or a marriage what matters, does not matter; what does not matter, matters; what is true, is false; what is false, is true; and a cup of tea prepared by the wife is always delighting; and an evil sarcastic jest prepared by the husband is always criticised. Ah, what a wonderful thing, this marriage business is. It is like jumping into a worm hole while you are high and overfed at the same time. It is exactly that feeling.

And on this note, I must remind all the readers that life is about struggle against the forces of darkness and misuse of power. On a completely different note Ralph Waldo Emerson says that a mans wife has more power over him than the state. Vive la Liberte?