Lately

Lately she looks in the mirror and it's a different person she sees. More broken than ever before, and somehow more whole than she has ever been. Closer to completion. To flawed perfection.

She is all the opposites in alarming, peaceful unity. A powerful force, standing still.

She knows the person in the reflection. Fully. And yet she knows she is entirely mystery.

Her face shows it. There is a hardness there. From uncountable, unspeakable despair. But the deepening grooves by her eyes curve upward, like her ready smile. She is joy and laughter.

Despite.

Always, despite.

Humpty Dumpty

Humpty fell too many times. Initially, it was easy to put the shell together again. A little glue, a little wariness. But with every fall, Humpty became uglier and harder to put together. Inside and out. More broken. Harder to fix. Things went missing.

Not long after the outside became a mess of glue and veneer, the more important part - the interior - became unrecognisable. Wrong. Irreparable.

The falls are less meaningful now. Because slowly some pieces have gone missing. Every incident lately has taken something away. Humpty can't ever be fully put together again.

It is not good, nor bad.

Just inevitable.

And maybe, a little sad.

The Best Thing About Being Married

So I've been married about two and a half years now. It feels a lot shorter and longer at the same time. And, every so often, my mind wanders and I like to introspect about what I love most about being married.

There are truly many things. But increasingly one has steadily moved upward in my list of favourites.

It's not the crazy giggling fits.
It's not the secure knowledge that I have a partner through thick and thin.
It's not the stupid fights that surprise you and draw you closer simultaneously.
It's not the companionable silences or the intense competitiveness over the silliest of games.
It's not love, respect and blah blah.

The best thing for me about being married is when we eat. Specifically, when we eat Indian food. Because, you see, before marriage it was I who would always win the Indian food treasure hunt. Now that I cook a little I know better how the medley of whole spices adds to the complex flavour of desi cuisine. Before they were just a royal pain. There I would be, enjoying a sumptuous curry, chomping away in gastronomic delight, when my teeth and taste buds would be assaulted by an unwelcome bite of a clove. Or a cinnamon stick. Or my personal worst: cardamom.

Bleughhhh.

Really. Bleughhhhhh.

It seemed as though my serving of food would somehow capture EVERY. SINGLE. WHOLE. SPICE. in that dish. I think they even multiplied when I wasn't looking.

I think this is why divine intervention sent me the man who is now my husband. It wanted me to enjoy food again. 'Food without fear' must have been the slogan when it tried to fix my dilemma.

Because not only has he brought all the wonderful love, respect and blah blah to my life... but he wins the treasure hunt now. Every time. I'm a little more in love with him as I write this. Every occasional whole spice that errantly passes my way is one of those divine reminders to appreciate him. You know, just in case he does something stupid and I forget.

Voice

It started with whispers. The whispers themselves were not tentative - no, that is not the nature of this particular voice. Perhaps they sounded like whispers because I was not ready to quite acknowledge its new existence. I might even have ignored it. It was unfamiliar. Different. Not the voice I was accustomed to.

It got louder. Or maybe I turned the volume up, getting ready to listen to it. To use it. To choose it.

It was a bit of a battle. Because, you see, I must reiterate that this voice is different. It is not timid or shy. It's more matter-of-fact, than apologetic. It's ratio of grateful to apologetic is higher than any voice I've had before. It's no-nonsense and a lot less diplomatic than I've ever been.

It's the embodiment of the current me. Which is why it's taken a while to actually hear what it has to say. And to adopt it as my voice. But it's here and I like it. I choose it. I want it.

It frees me.
It acknowledges that I am my own judge and jury before the noisy chatter and clatter of everyone else's opinions and judgements and negations.
It's self-aware.
It stands up for itself.
It is authoritative and hopefully not too loud. I do not want to drown out others.
It has zero tolerance for bullshit.
It does not make excuses for people's behaviour or look for fault within to explain their behaviour. It realises that somethings simply are.
It has cut the strings of duties and obligations and doubts that have mummified my words.
It is unapologetic when it is true to itself.

This voice is also transient, and knows it. It is a work-in-progress and happy to try different strengths and tones and modulations to fit me as I change and learn and accept myself.

It is me.