Love and hate – two sides of the same coin. Love and hate though opposites are used interchangeably. We may love someone to bits and yet when we are annoyed with him we carelessly and casually use the word hate to describe that feeling. We are taught to love our parents and yet there must be a hundred thousand times in this life that we may have hated them too for not seeing the world our way. We may put in a lot of effort and hard work to get the job we have now and though it pays well we end up hating it every day. There cannot be a single woman in this world who doesn’t hate the man she loves the most. Ironical, I know.
But do we really understand the meaning of love and hate. When does love stop to exist and hate take over our heart and then there is that one moment when all of a sudden hate evaporates and love germinates again. Children hate their parents every single day when they are told what to do and how to lead their lives and yet as we grow up , face the turbulences of our lives, solace is sought in the arms of the parent and unconditional, undying love takes over again. A new mother holds her young one close to her bosom and feels that earth shattering love for this young life. She vows to protect, cherish and nourish this young one. Yet after a few weeks filled with sleepless nights, and colicky baby cries there comes a point when she definitely hates her child. She feels restricted, suffocated and unattractive and she blames it on that innocent being. The hatred develops and then one night the child falls sick. All of a sudden the hatred fades away. Deep, intense and protective love takes over again
Lovers are the most prone to this love-hate see saw. They promise to love each other forever. They resolve that distances won’t make a difference. They promise to beat all odds. Love they feel will change their destiny and then one day they fight. They fight, they make up and then fight again. With every altercation, their balance tips towards hate and every time they make up it gets back to love. Until one day, the fights just don’t resolve. They promise to hate each other forever. Love suffocates and dies. The pleasant memories of togetherness, surprisingly just adds to the bitterness.
Unlike that of a parent and a child, adults are more drawn towards hatred. We feel complete in blaming someone else for our incompleteness. Like Eve was blamed for Adam’s lack of grit, while all she wanted was to share something new with him. The mankind blamed her for all their woes but did Adam ever leave her. We all trapeze over this fine line between love and hate. Yes lovers fight and pledge to hate each other for ever and yet a chance smile, a small joke and gentle touch is all it takes for love to sprout back again.
Do we really understand the meaning of these two words which are an integral part of our vocabulary. Can one be defined without the other ? Can one be felt without the other ? Can one be understood without the presence of other ? Though the line is fine, the rift it can cause is colossal.
Everyone has that one friend in life who is not scared to call a spade a spade and yet is not judgemental about you in any respect. Some find that in a spouse, some in a sibling and some in a friend. I have two such characters in my life and this is about a word used by one of them. The other day I was talking to them and one of my friends was cribbing about taking off from work to attend a religious function she doesn’t believe in. When we teased her about it, she called it “Detached attachment”. The word kind of stuck to me.
The moral fibre of this society, which we live in, lays down a lot of rules and regulation. These rules govern our actions, our reactions and our relations. Any person or situation which is out of the rule book is frowned upon. We are taught to say, obey our elders, in spite of knowing that they are wrong. We are taught to love our spouse till death do us part, in spite of having major difference of opinion. We are taught to wear the kind of clothes or eat the type of food because it is the right thing to do. The adventurous in you may want to break open the barriers, run free like a wild deer, swim like a dolphin and yet we stick to our mundane routine. Routine breeds familiarity. Familiarity is security. Security is safe and safe results in detached attachment.
We want to do something desperately. We have ideas which may not confirm to the rules yet we know we can work on it. Each one of us at one point in time wants to break free but then the age old rules start talking in your head. It binds us, stops us, gags us and ties us. That is when attachment is just an obligation, a sense of responsibility, a fear of the unknown. Maybe and I may be wrong, a woman behind a ghungat all her life may crave for the freedom to feel the sun on her face but the day that freedom is granted to her, she will surely shy away. I may keep saying that I am an atheist and yet every time I cross a temple built on the road my head will bow in reverence.
There are few lucky ones who have the courage to be detached completely and those are the ones who die with no regret. Great men and women who broke the bondages of the moral fibre are the ones who attained greatness be it Gautam Buddha or Kalpana Chawla or Mary Kom or Neil Armstrong. The rest of us coward ones are destined to just become food for the ants when we die.
Happy Detached Attachment people
My sister always says, “people born in a good gene pool tend to spend more on beauty products as grow old.” I could never understand her sudden penchant for monthly manicure and pedicure. It was surprising for me since she is one person I know who didn’t even get a pre-bridal done before her wedding.
But when I stand on the gateway of late 30’s and I see my niece at a marriageable age and my nephew changing girlfriends like he changes shirts, I realise looking good was so much easier when age was on your side. I used to take a lot of pride on a GOD gifted figure, long, straight hair, clearest, no maintenance skin that I owned. Today I spend a fortune on personalised trained and gym yet the stubborn fat around my waist gives me sleepless nights. The once long straight silky hair falls in a tumble of waves just below my shoulders – a camouflaged hairstyle to hide the bald patch developing on my scalp. The once coveted “clean and clear” skin demands facials and de-tanning every month and I blame the rise of wrinkles on the 100 watt smile that I am ready to emit.
So age is directly proportional to the wealth spent on beauty and grooming products and facilities. Vanity runs in the blood of women. I guess we shouldn’t be gender biased. I see a lot of men, generally mid aged in the spa that I visit.
On second thoughts, good genetic pool has nothing to do with the need to look good. I am told Cleopatra spent hours in front of the mirror while I would dare Aishwarya Rai to be seen in public without a drop of makeup. I sure Snow white- the fairest of them all, used to stop by the mirror for a second to check herself out.
It is the need for people to hear “aapki twacha se aapki umar ka pata nahi chalta” that makes my wrinkled 90 old grandma swim in Ponds Dream talc before stepping out of the house. It is just an age old story.
I stand there in the shadows , and yet watch me bask in the sun
Chained are my limbs , and yet I watch me skip around
Emotion and desperation has gagged me, and yet I watch me laugh and talk to friends
My heart breaks into a thousand pieces , and yet I hear it racing against time
Like a hollow skeleton, I crank and creak, and yet I watch myself lead a full life
Hot tears scorch my being , and yet I watch my vibrant smile dazzle and shine
Creature of dual existence – that is me
Who am I?
The me that the world sees, or the me that you have made me