Conflict

The worst conflict you can have is with your own self, your own thoughts. I do not wish to sound abstract or elusive. I am at want for the right expressions and words. I find myself struggling today. The human in me is fighting hard with the storyteller. The fight to feel instead of weave, dramatize and share. Episodes very close to my life and heart have churned my being and stopped mid-way leaving a spiral aura inside of me, some sort of distorted galaxy of thoughts, opinions, rationalizations, expectations and disappointments.

The human in me gives into the storyteller. The storyteller in turn promises a non compromising view on feelings. Here it goes.
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Story 1
Two friends, genuinely close, were exploring their lives through the lens of youth. In their early twenties, they couldn’t have been happier. One of them had an awe inspiring love story taking shape. He loves this girl so strongly and purely that she could not stop loving him back. A perfect unison! Then over time a complexity arises. The other friend develops a romantic inclination with his close friend’s girl. Instead of holding back or confiding, he tries to work his way into the girl’s heart. His friend, the girl’s suitor, senses this but remains calm as he values his friendship too much. He is confident of his love and his relationship with his girl. However, then the other friend spins act. As an evasive tactic, he forges a cover up relationship of a god sibling with this girl. And that kind of continues for a while. But soon the mask rips apart and due a moment’s weakness this guy writes a letter to the girl confessing his feelings and telling her how he loves her more than his friend. This sets in motion a crazy turn of events. The inner convolution of this situation comes in the open. The two friends find themselves at the centre of a confrontation – a confrontation of ideologies, of upbringing, of merit of one’s character, of choices, of dealing with life.

At this juncture, the impinged friend becomes crazy with rage at the thought of being betrayed by his close friend starts getting seriously negative and destructive thoughts towards his friend. Thoughts that do not abide by rules of the society or of civil conduct. He communicates his malicious intention to his now estranging friend.

However, soon becomes overcome by the value of his friendship and dismisses his rage in favor of longevity of true friendship and accommodates this other friend on the condition that he comes out clean with his intention. The friendship lives to this day, after years of transformation, change, bouts of strive and mistrust, but still remains.

There is still, however, the element of awkwardness, which I feel remains. And that is the sad reminder of how things were. Of how we humans are fallible and how at the same time we can be magnanimous.

Now you might ask “What troubles you?”.

The answer is that to until this date I do not find a trace of honest repentance in the eyes of the second friend who was showered with the accommodative spirit of the first friend. This might not be an overbearing issue in the mind of the guy who forgave. But for me it is hard to fathom, it is hard to let go. My value system forbids me to be at peace with this situation, although it does not directly involve me.

You might ask how am I bothered or know how and what transpired. Well I could say, I was around, like a fly on the wall spying on their lives, like an thief stealing their emotions, like a judge passing my infrequent but stern judgments, like a culprit letting it happen, like another friend who could have done more far sooner.
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Story 2
Two friends, genuinely close, were exploring their lives through the lens of youth. In their early twenties, they couldn’t have been happier. One of them took the role of more than a friend, he was philosopher and guide. A brother who watched over. Many summers passed and through these seasons they grew closer to each other allowing each other’s intervention in life.

An hierarchy established, an order formed. One was clearly the active guide, the other largely being the guided. He guided his friend, relentlessly, through numerous dark woods of life. During a decade of friendship, this chap conquered great difficulties in life with the unwavering aid of his friend. But there came a point, after a specifically huge life changing event in this chap’s life that he started to operate independently. Often not caring much to believe in his friend’s ideology and wisdom. Although his friend was happy to see him finally coming onto his own, he was at the same time feeling left out. Kind of how a parent feels when the child grows up and leaves the nest. The interesting part is that even to this date, the friend’s philosophy and approach towards life remains simple and direct. In spite of this fact, the now freedom soaked chap, often does not believe in his friend’s approach the way he used to.

Now the question is, is his friend clinging onto the past and not moving ahead with time and embracing this chap’s new found individuality? Or this new town feeling is a mere illusion? Although this seems like a clichéd and boring thought. This very thought exists and manifests itself in most close relationships. And when it strikes we either are too scared of facing it or just brush it aside in the name of progress. But as the ancients say, wisdom has no age.

How does one handle such small but telling scenarios in life? I am clueless.

Now you might ask “What troubles you?”

The answer is this dilemma. The feeling of empathy with both of these close friends. Are we to move ahead leaving behind such magical relationships? Are we to sacrifice such timeless unions for sake of infirm progress?

You might ask how do I know what transpired. Well I could say, I was the crossword, the alphabet that joined these discrete yet connected souls, a culprit who let it happen, like another friend who could do more sooner than later.
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This ranting might not do too good in solving this scramble called life, but it helps the storyteller to do a day’s job and earn his piece of the bread.

Is this the bane of life? A seeping dysfunction? Are there simple things we can do to achieve a less complicated life? How far can the storyteller help the human? Is there a point after which the human walks alone, a journey within, to find solace… leaving the storyteller “the phoney bhand” to the world?

2 thoughts on “Conflict

  • October 12, 2009 at 9:42 pm
    Permalink

    Hey willow 🙂
    What made me write this is?
    Story 1 – The fact that I was never truly able to reconcile this event in my head and heart. The reason why brought this up when we met.

    Story 2 – This one is fresh, off the mint.

    Reply

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