Tough Woman and Water Hyacinth

They call me a tough woman. They say I can make a come back with a broad smile no matter how bad  things are. So now they have the licence to trample me with the nailed heels of their boots and I am not supposed to shed a drop of tear because you know what? I am a tough woman! So no agony. No pain. It is all for their gain. I look at people playing with my most precious possesion stretching it beyond recognition, breaking it like a plastic toy while I am supposed to move on.

Move on..

Two words that I am supposed to swear by. Words with which I have an inseparable association. Words that give me company when all others fail me. Like water hyacinth they permeate my world, my existence, my vision. And just like water hyacinth, they do not belong to my world. They are invasive species brought about by a careless traveller who stopped by my world for a while, touched somewhere deep at some unknown place and left his traces there. In the form of Water Hyacinth. The dark green bulbous stalks have long strong roots tightly holding on to me just as I hold on to them. Like a vicious rumour it has been spreading its tentacles around and I struggle..... to move on.

I am a tough woman so the flowers of spring do not make my heart smile with joy, the wild chirping of birds fall on my deaf ears, the soft breeze fails to cool my soul. I am a stone which no acerbic words and acts can erode. I am a make of different space, time and substance. So you can kick me with all your might. I will roll down the moutain of wrathful hope, unhurt. Nobody asked me if I was strong, nobody asked me before kicking me down. An a priori truth, an axiom which everyone belives in. With no consultation I was branded as strong. With this burden I shall live until I crumble under its weight and then I shall seek the yellow fragrant flowers and the vast blue ocean which would welcome me with open arms. No assumptions of strength and I shall give in to the waves of freedom. Freedom from unthought ideas and presumptions, from the words of courage and beckoning. Freedom from the roots of the Water Hyacinth. Freedom from moving on...


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Meanwhile, here is what Milan Kundera has to say,

"...And therein lies the whole of man's plight. Human time does not turn in a circle; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition."