Wednesday, December 08, 2004

The Bubblegum Machine

That's right - spit it out whether you like it or not.

I've been having the most difficult time these past two months. For most other - i'm sure their problems suffice. But then again, when it's you're problem - it's the biggest and no one elses can get in the way. Even if it's medical emergency. We still find a way to make our problems bigger and better.

Being an indian woman isn't simple - you're walking the tight rope the moment you decide to live your own life. Either both your parents freak out - they make your life miserable and you either walk out (it's called social suicide in these here parts) and just do what you have to do or you suck it up and decide to give up your individuality and live by their rules. For most people this is an alien concept.

I'm in the middle of a small revolution, you know. I've just waged war with my mother - who believes she has sole control over my mind and body until i get married (that's another long story i don't even want to get into!). My father has been an angel in comparison. I could thank God for my father's early experiences in life and his ability to exercise his cognitive rights and own mind - which has helped me immensely in maintaining a sense of sane. I am who i am primarily because he let me - otherwise i would have been a mindless mother of two plotting out their future marriages to non-existent rich families. Eyuck!

Right, so now that's out of the way...

Welcome to the bubblegum machine - where everyone is a gumball - stuck in a deliciously crowded globe. Where colours jostle with each other for the exit ---- waiting for that one coin that will spit them out into freedom. That's the catch.

It's a gamble for a gumball! And it's gamble for the man with the coin - he always wants the red one. he doesn't know which one's goiing ot make it out of there and none of the gumballs know which one of them gets sucked into the open air and into a generous masticating mouth.

And so your soar - out of the globe and into another trap - where much to your shock and disdain - you're crushed - the colour sucked out of you, your sweetness liberated unto someone elses tongue. you morph - metapmorphise into a shapeless, sticky piece of gum, gray and rubber bandy - splayed out, stretched, chewed, pulled and then - SPLAT.

That's life, that's the beauty - that's the way the gum is chewed.

Now who wants to stay inside?

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