Christmas Tree

This cold evening as I sat on the old fashioned wooden chair in the balcony, stretching my feet on the railings, my mind was heavy, not of pain or sadness or disappointment, not of any depression or hormonal change.. but of thoughts scattered in my mind - sweet and nostalgic, hard facts and dreams ahead. As I looked at the decorated and well illuminated Christmas tree across the street, I thought of myself as one, each twirled leaf weaved by the year gone by. If I am to be illuminated and kept on the side wall, how would I look like? More of thorns or glittering balls?  Let me spin my leaves… stray thoughts!

I had lost myself in the virtual world for many months, with lucid intervals of ‘soberness’. But I am not sure whether I lived as myself more in the intervals or in the net plunge.  

My professional flashcard would not shine much in this last year, I was lazy and non innovative. So those leaves had no glitters on.

Blogging helped me decipher myself with clarity and release the pent up fury and cleanse away the grudges I held. It helped me see life as a sequence of facts, which can as simply be spelt out as it could be. I found a few lovely bloggers whom I read with wonder and admiration, met my twin, a handful of good friends, and I fell in love. My tree is definitely glowing.

 My motherhood wasn’t that illuminating through out the year, as I allowed my son to be in his own world, just so that I could be in mine. But the chilly breeze of December made us draw close to each other for the warmth and laughter we share in private. We sit on the kitchen floor these days and I feed him warm rice and ghee, with dal and bhindi fry, every ball of rice followed by a huge bite of a fried pappad. He tells me about his ‘inventions’ and I listen not understanding a word many times, but encouraging all the while. And he runs to me, hugs me around my waist and gives me a kiss. During his cartoon ad break he climbs on me under the blanket, in the afternoons. I have a hard time hiding my phone under the pillow. Well my tree is not that bad.. I am living!

Now now .. comes the hardest part.. my wifehood. I survived well, I should say he survived quite well with my hours online, hurriedly cooked food, stuffed cupboard (he started keeping his own), bad punctuality, un-blued handkerchiefs… He has really become immune to me now. All goes fine as long as we have that little intimacy at least few times a month. But this weather has made me too lazy for that too. I bluntly told him this night when he caressed me that ‘I think I am growing old, I don’t feel anything these days’. He replied, ‘it is just because you are preoccupied and wanting to rush to your lap top’. I used my reasoning skills to establish that unless I am loved without sexual urge, caressed, hugged and kissed – all with no sexual desire, sweet names be called during broad day light, I will not feel the desire. All of these would have worked, but for my escapade back to my study followed by his putting on the tv. I went sheepishly next to him and he just murmured something a bit angrily, switched off the tv and went to bed. Me back to my desk. But why should a man feel angry just for lack of sex. I have never been so silly in my life. But would these leaves shine of mine, or are they thorns?