The Chalice Of Entrapment

It takes a long time to be serious about things. Magnanimous is a good word, composed of eleven letters, but in reality it takes more than eleven days to be off it, to be enthralled and then controlled and henceforward directed by an entity who is an outlaw. Sometimes you call it a marriage. It all started mildly, the irritating air that you receive but you want to get rid off, aftermath of a party night albeit without guilt. Albeit is an important word over here. It rolls over to you the entire day and the time that follows. It started off like that. Refuting it, at times ignoring it, well versed with all over that is at stake, togetherness is sometimes not being together, conjugation is not always sleeping on the same bed every night. Hard learning but yet hard learned. The oxymoron sometimes stands when you affix the word ‘Happily’ before ‘Marriage’. Its not that happy when you are married. Cultural differences do take a toll and sometimes are disastrous to deal with. Virginity as they say, is not always a dignity, its sometimes a mixture of loss or opportunity and dogma. Bereaved, threatened, lashed, vociferously he complained at the Mighty, ‘Why me?’ Love can be so painful at times.

Although superfluous at the foreplay, it might hit a hard block at orgasm, might end up in a disastrous completion stage and the aftershock is abysmal. He realized it post the vows were lawfully engraved and superfluously celebrated. There is a nerve which runs from the brain to the toes. Wrecked in between, there is no nerve which conjures a marriage to its happiness throughout. After twelve years of affair and ten years of marriage, the famous poet deciphers, ‘There are two blue nerves which make love with each other at the left toe of hers’ – a discovery which leads conjugal life to its fulfilment. He’s been strangled, the meagre air of life requests him to start life all over again, but the socio-economic bards of rules condemn his idea of a second life to eternity. He wants to die to live another life. She opens it for him, the very vibrant heart of hers, and he plays it to the point of ignoring his next generation, into a rubber. Moral life follows Bernoulli’s principle – it flows with all of its vigil and vigour till it reaches the constricted part of the tube called marriage. And as science explains, once released a stream throws so hard that it breaks through all the configuration of an erstwhile theory of family and conjugal life – bang goes the conflict. Parents unfortunately, have inculcated the holistic idea of trotting the bare fences of a family amidst turbulence to resist the topsy-turvy nature of nascent togetherness. These ball park bare fences somehow couldn’t resist the frenzy of professional turmoil and gushing waves of professional three-lettered demon called ‘ego.’ Neither he did. Baffled by circumstances he resorted to the friendly nature of Me, Myself and I. The theory of modern society stands on the pillar of triple digit withdrawals from the ATM, and penta digit monthly takeaways. The baby steps of ‘un, dos, tres, quarto’ have left us numb and superficial of the values inculcated by our fathers and forefathers. ‘Psychological tempest in a tea pot’ manifests itself into various forms of physical ailment and tends towards a bipolar personal disorder – he suffers from it too. The numbness of the silent stagnant overtly suspicious night off the dawn of honeymoon seems to overcast the entire horizon of so-called family life post the heinous event. Gazing at the depth of the fairer gender’s bosom although seems to fulfil the barrenness of the numb youthfulness, but it forfeits the sordid set-up of a nuclear marriage – he keeps telling himself, ‘You’re married, dude, not dead. You’re not out of the world, you’re not bereft of the pleasure, the muddy yet clear nature of the world, but clad with the same tarnished yet glorified nature of life as all others; just that, it wore the sun rays, smoked the herbal chastity and called itself a marriage.’ Period.

P.S. – This text is yet to be developed into a short story. Just wondering if anyone would like it (or not).
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