Conflict

We were talking about conflicts. He and I. We started with discussing the political kinds and moved across religion, love, marriage, society and finally settled on internal kind. I was lying diagonally on mattress beside the bed and he was lying on his stomach, on the bed, looking at me. I was meeting him after nine years. A lot has changed since we last met…

“What are you thinking right now?” he asked

“Hmmm… how do you handle if you body, mind and mind are in conflict?” I replied.

“Mind and Mind?”

“Yes, some people may say heart and mind, but I prefer mind and mind cause that is what is happening right?”

“I don’t understand… explain.” He said adjusting the pillow under his chin.

“Let me try. Now that X and I are no longer together and it has been some days. One part of my mind congratulates me on handling it so well, keeping it neutral, some resemblance of moving on, but other part still stays there. It is like there is a conflict going in me. The ache stays. My life is divided yet running parallel. What I don’t understand is why the mind easily tricks you to coexist with two sides. The dull ache stays with the world fading in and out. He has become like the aroma I get every evening as I stand in my balcony from my neighbour’s kitchen. It wafts through, even when I desperately don’t want it to, envelops me and makes me crave for food. I can’t see it but it tempts me, even irritates me on my inability to stop, not to smell, not to feel hungry. It scares me. What if this will never become better? The heartache will creep up on me and rot me… like a wall with termites. Slowly but steadily.”

He turned on his back and stayed silent. I could see his cigarette smoke going up and disappearing but at the same time suffocating me with the pungent smell.

“And…?”


“And the next moment I feel as if I am really moving on, life feels more cheerful, I hum to myself, smile at strangers and feel tres passionnée towards Y and feel at peace with myself for doing the right thing. If it’s so right, then why does it hurt so much?”

“You have really started thinking too much. I never knew you were so profound,” he replied keeping a poker face.

Unsure of taking it as an offense, jibe or compliment, I asked with a smile,” If I am boring you so much, why didn’t you say so?”

He removed the pillow from under the chin and spoke staring at me,” You know Coco Chanel said – ‘Jump out the window if you are the object of passion. Flee it if you feel it. Passion goes, boredom remains.’ But to answer your question, no, you are not boring me and you have not become a bore. Yet.”

I turned on my stomach and replied staring back at him,” Then I am sure you must also know what Confucius said?”

“What?”

I smiled at him. Again

“He says ‘Virtuous people often revenge themselves for the constraints to which they submit by the boredom which they inspire.’”

He threw the pillow back at me.

What a Bore!

“I am bored”

I have said this phrase over and over again in my life since childhood (right now, writing this post, I want to say it again). Why people get bored? Is there a way out? Thinking of the last almost twenty seven years of my life now (yes, I turn 27 this April, happy birthday to me), this phrase has meant many things in my life.

At 9 years – it usually meant Ma I am hungry and no I don’t want Maggi. No. I don’t want upma also. No, I don’t want puri also and no I don’t want to go out also. No TV, no book, no chocolate (usually it ended with me howling when my poor mother reached the end of her patience and gave me a much deserved slap).

At 13 years – being bored usually meant I hated the homework, I found Sharma aunty a big bore, especially when she started gossiping about the neighborhood and I had to make tea for her. More than anything else, living in a modest two bedroom flat with a television set in the living room (most convenient for anyone to see), it meant no watching television in the afternoon. Now that was really boring!

At 17 years – “I find this colour too boring; no I don’t want that saree to wear for my school farewell party (wearing a saree was compulsory for the students who were passing out of school). I want a new saree!” This followed a trip to the local saree shop where I yawned and said I like nothing and I am getting bored and no, I don’t want to shop- basically just wanted to sulk and be a pest.

Met X and Y once I moved to Mumbai… then “being bored” took a deeper meaning:

With Y, it usually meant showing indifference when angry. He once said that when I look at him and yawn and say “I am bored”, I resemble my pet – Freddie, who for sometimes has lost interest in whatever is in front of him and wants to go out and roam free (that caught my attention alright, but then, my pride being at stake…I yawned again and picked up a book to read). Being bored also sometimes means please take me out, I feel restless and I envy your peace with life and I definitely want to be pampered J   

With X, it takes a totally different context as for a change, he is much more bored most of the time than I am … so “I am bored” usually means I have somewhat idea right now…what you feel always, but I don’t mind feeling different, like I do when I am with you. It also means somewhere, someway I am connected.

Dictionary says the word ‘boredom’ is ennui, usually results from too little stimulation, motivation, and interest. I think, maybe it is the feeling that arises when your mind and heart run in different directions, you don’t know what to do and time seems endless… how boring!