BEING TRUE AND NEVER GREY

Not many days back I said men are not for tears. And my friend glanced at me with bewilderment. She asked me then what could they do. I had a skeptic smile and said shoulders are to be there for men to shed tears. She had a hearty laugh and spoke of her thin but firm shoulder. It was almost a laugh aside thing.
A few months back, writing at another space about broken relationships ,I thought it should be made as easy as possible, no rancour, no misgivings. Apart from one’s family relationships no relationship is seemingly permanent unless endured. Endurance is like the little sparrow collecting odd objects and making a nest. It is so subtle, so soft and sprightly that just an amazing experience is left with the onlooker. Recently I had two relationships on the verge of breaking up, divergent they were and fragile they had been from the very beginning. One we could salvage, the second one I fear, I could not. Bringing personal factors for public gaze is no virtue, yet no other way I could say what I feel should be told. Like a nestling tiny bird we preserve our integrity and shortfalls and disturbing issues are taken care of by our ingrained objectivity. For me instinctive emotions are poor commentators on human relations. Well, I am instinctive and yet I regard my companion’s impulses as important and as virgin I could estimate mine. The moment I say I am always right and he is always wrong, the death knell of our togetherness is there. Rarely we come over.I speak half truth, see him as a bundle of nerves and never think he has a proper identity worth respect and always I am full of myself, could I ever be a friend? I cherish friends as followers, then I am never a companion, but a self seeker.
No relationship could flourish if it is sized in terms of mental maturity and obstinacy. If I am a butterfly I would grease your hand with obfuscate colours and particles. You may be a soft blade of grass, tender and radiant, my presence shall make you dusty and the scarce tenderness you dissipate. . In such cases rarely could we linger a faith. When we sustain such odds, we allow relationship bloom with patience and the waiting pays rich. And there comes the fervour and matured mutual faith . Relationship, friendship or companionship are matters of faith. We need not cast out the fallible between us, but to weather the shortcomings are our real test. If I cry aloud and say I am a fallen angel, much wronged. I will get pity and sympathy in my basket and not love. Not necessarily then I would earn friends. I would draw together bunch of flowers and sighs;if I get someone who feels me and walks with me a distance without hoping for gratitude, then he is my friend, not he who sighs at my raucous sob and pat me.
That day I had a feeling; surviving relationship is a kind of gathering dew drops in palm. Before we gather, those drops are lost. And some are so unfortunate that they never see it radiating and dispersing watery light for visual accomplishment. Yet dew drops are a reality and they are present to light up the tender grass. Your tenderness is not a weakness, or an abject submission; that I should remember.
Choosing relationship is my domain, but my freedom is limited to the extent I do not become judgmental. I am as blind as the other one to guess if I am better equipped than him to deal the situations. We are equal partners in a relation, this is the truth, no less, no better.
While discussing the mavericks of relationships I just wanted to make a choice, whether to surrender or to arraign the misgivings. Suspension of ego and transcending balkanization of superstitious ideas about instinctive maneuvers are best suited when we are susceptible to form ideas about people and the chemistry of two divergent individuals. I am my own master, you are your slave; this attitude stimulates dissension. This is a kingly demeanour , where the feeling is I am no wrong. Here empathy is diluted and a sovereign atavistic disintegration of mutuality rule. Then we cannot rue the fact that we could not sit together for furthering our belongingness.

I sadly admit I can never be anyone’s company having such a stance towards lives’ chameleon fortitude. If empathy is not my forte and dream never a paramour, I will always miss out my friends. Breach of faith is of no substance if my truth later is neither grey nor brown and always white and black. In companionship being true to self and others is of relevance when perception is not dictated by edgy feelings. If I cannot contain my arrogance that stuffs and stilts a raised hand with hope and warmth, I will miss out the palm that tops my head from rain and sun.
I can never earn a friend if I am susceptible to past and unrelenting stubbornness. If I cannot accept without question, I have no right to enjoin mind and souls. If I never allow a squirming soul to speak out his parts of the story and never leave my dogmatic effervescence how can I prove me?
To be a company I need be true to myself, as well others. I have a journey to make and I know I can never cross the marsh and meander the flowing tributaries and rough terrains all alone.
I allow him to cry and sob, but cannot stop him from radiating the joy that he attains after the painful quest. I raise him from pitfalls, then can he wriggle me out of dungeons of hypocrisy. If I cannot endure a company, I am not only lost, the flowering of harmony withers. Joy has wings of a bird, you can feel its flutter, but can never persist without adopting a part of sadness from the other. I can never be at bliss if I never try to linger the same in my friend. Being in company I have no ifs and whys, I have to cross the distance in togetherness. No half truth, no frail thoughts, no coming off . It is absolute, no traits in my company is to dither me, and if I point the arm, it will not bloom rose and jasmine, but distribute fireballs and quell tranquility. Being in company you have no use for them.