

A Tragic Comedy of Human Divinity

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He checked on his phone couple of times to see if she had replied; timid and dejected at every blink of the slick little screen.  It was exasperating that she refused to understand his predicament and it slowly weighed on him; one thing to comprehend and another thing to refute it. Times like this reminded him of his mother who despite of her noble upbringing and education was too much of a conformist for his taste. ‘Women’ thought he, ‘never too lively, never too low. They always let men take the fall’. His scarlet cheeks glossed.  He read and re-read their conversation on the phone till it dawned to him that she wasn’t cold, she was merely playing it heartless.

A couple of days passed and he was grew miserable from the fact that it wasn’t up to him to conclude their mutual displeasure. It was simply a matter of time and he was getting out of time to contain his melancholic resentment towards such a petty squabble which was due to the fact that he couldn’t attend her sister’s swoyamber. How could he participate in such a trifling event when he had a job to attend to which paid his bills and with much industry could he manage to put a wee bit more than mere rice and lentils on the table for his family of six. There was no escape from his listless diligence when his own pocket was tight.

‘How can you be so selfish? What does it matter if you flunked your office, once for me? You were the one who used to say that employment is just a twenty first century invention?’ she had romped incessantly.

It’s always difficult for a man to not be affected with the wrath of his woman. It is full of cruelty because it comes not from heart but from her angry yet nonchalant mind; coy, unaffected and full of logic that men have difficult time to comprehend how and from where such paroxysms originate. The loftiness of man against women’s intelligence is thus shattered. One thing that evolution has undone is men’s ability to recognize that women are as intelligent as them and in arguments of such sorts men lack courage to concede their cerebral powerlessness against so-called inferior creatures, leading to irrational and most visibly whimsical, savage behaviors and offensive languages against women which can never be justified.

Now, of course, our ‘he’ in this tale isn’t such a character but again he has grown into a miserable man. A miserable man will think and do as he pleases by the mere virtue being ‘him’ in the first place. So, deciding that the best course of action for him would be to frighten her and gain her sympathy, he thought, as he simply typed with his tremulous fingers on the little screen, ‘It will be the death of me if I can’t have you back’. You know, one of those eye rolling statements that lovers try on each other just to get their precious attention back. Of course, they don’t really mean it but it does depict how much they are marooned spiritually without one’s lovers company.

At this she got furious and curtly replied, ‘Then just do it for my sake’. She merely smirked. Well, it has his attention and indifference juxtaposed together to make him go mad with rage. ‘If she wants it then so it be’ he thought. Still, he doesn’t mean it, but in certes, a seed of haplessness is already planted on his head.



Sunsets pass by unconditionally and still they don’t converse. The fat, ostentatious swoyamber passes, she nonchalantly shares a nicely photographed album in the social medias as well. It adds butter to fire and he tries to get in touch with her but alas! All she needed was a romantic apology which would for him, be very condescending to do and for a few more days he doesn’t swallow up his pride. It’s a cold war, a farce which history of romance has already depicted us in more than one tale. Modern romance is futile and lovers are gudgeons of plastic fate. Nor benedictions nor depressive medications cure such ethereal maladies of life. It’s a farce and a mere game that women play just to fool around with men who, they know shall brandish some stupidity on themselves. These are such games of statements which both men and women use to assert their dominance on each other much-to melancholic avails.

So, our main character now abjures the material pleasures of life and begins to find portentous lust for self-harm. Sadness is always addictive. It brings out the spiritual self on one’s perceived soul, maimed in self-depreciation and subjugated to depressive thoughts. On the other hand, our ‘she’ is bewildered that her lover is experiencing such lovely sensations because of her. ‘How much he misses me’ she ruminated, and felt she should charity her love to him in a couple of days. Yielding such power makes people blind and women desire such power to higher her esteem and find beauty in life. Thus finding a grand meaning to life they stay happy. On the contrary, men don’t need esteem to feel powerful, they merely need desires and attaining such desires of their hearts, that passion, the devotion, ones acquiesce to it makes them feel powerful. And in such powers they think they yield, gives meaning to them. Life is thus beautiful to both. But not for our character, who rather has started to find his happiness in sadness, glory in destruction and life in dimness. It’s always a profound yet stupid sight to find men completely lost in oblivion.

It had been two weeks of such a burlesque melodrama.



Finding herself the center of his universe, she demanded more of it. For two weeks, she found absolute pleasure in torturing him with remarks, uncouth and childish. On his part, he replied brashly and viciously, attacking her for having no heart whereas she asserted that it was because her heart was with him and he had managed to put on the bin. This enraged him and at the same time, made him feel that she treasured him still. This duality of sensation tore his soul apart. Such was the nature of their conversation and she, to gain an upper hand refused to meet him at all. She knew she would fall on his knees at his dejected sight and only a tête-à-tête would suffice to restore their romance. But it was too early to warm his heart. She wanted more of his devotion through his debauched remarks, yells, cries and violent agitations. If he assumed a devil then she completed the diabolical situation be being the devil’s woman; cold and piercing.

‘What about my family, don’t I have to work to provide for them’ he contemplated.

‘It’s none of my business’ she pretended.

‘Why are you being so cruel to me? Haven’t I been a reasonable man to you, you whore!’ he bellowed on the telephone.

‘I am sure you were doing one, while I was away’ she responded curtly.

‘I wasn’t granted a leave. What do you want me to say? Look, I will come to the wedding, haven’t I promised?’ he grew dejected.

She sighed, ‘What if they don’t grant you a leave again?’

‘I’ll flunk the damn office, honey. Okay. I promise…..’ he grew soft, drawing himself up.

‘Then why didn’t you flunk it this time! How am I to trust you again! If my family means so little to you, why should I have faith in you?’ she interposed and slammed down the receiver, stood as erectly as haughtily as possible, assumed a little scarlet countenance and gave a faint smile to herself in satisfaction of doing so.

(He threw his phone at the wall, it went shattering all over the cemented floor of his bedroom.)

So it went, most of their conversations. She would maroon him in the heat of the argument and he would do something nasty. Sometimes she made him believe that they had broken up. And sometimes she would plant an imaginary new man in her life. Yet, sometimes, she harangued about her unparalleled love for him. It affected him so much that she couldn’t even fathom. After all, he had supposed that she was the one. She was already introduced to his family as well. He was working hard to earn more and realizing that his later to-be wifey shouldn’t be bothered about money of all things, he had been putting in extra effort. He was just a clerk in a law firm, more qualified academically compared to his employment description. Since the bubble burst, it had been getting busy and he was making the most out of it, until now.

He couldn’t work at all; concentration was out of the window and he grew timid day by day. His colleagues in the office realized that he was growing desolate and his personal hygiene was being neglected. Since they were his colleagues, not friends, they cared not to strike any such conversation with him which might reveal his predicament. After all, there is always going to be competition and competition is always won by the one has a strong mentality and not by a neurotic. They kept their mum on this one and he was in illusion that his decorum was unaffected in the office. He had been given such a shock that he didn’t know how badly he was dressed up for work or how stout he had grown or how sullen his eyes were. The tuft became bushy, his plump cheeks now evinced his cheek bones and he had a broken voice among other deviances in his appearance. He always assumed a grim countenance and viewed life more grimly. One man’s sorrow can be another’s joy.


To be continued….

















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