The Crimson Cat

  He was everything she could ask for. The true yin to her yang. He was not the fire that would burn her passion or her soul. He was not the wild horse that she would tame. He was not the hunter that would hunt her down. He was this mildly scented stream in the woods that flowed peacefully through seasoned, leveled grounds. Slow, joyous, calm, and familiar, with the power to heal just by being around with countless caresses and deep, deliberate, wet kisses. He was everything she could ask for.. She felt respected and cared for. He lived in a universe diametrically opposite to hers and that helped. There were no wildfires or passionate episodes and resulting bloodshed. But there was so much unexplored, so much to learn, so much to ease into and let grow on each other, like those vines on the walls of the house outside her window. But…… But she felt trapped in a bubble. She felt alienated from him, them and all the beauty. She felt lonely. She felt sad. May be, it was the pills...

Where is the finishing line and who is tracking time? We have all been running so fast for so long that some of us have clearly forgotten the ‘why’s. We were born and asked to join the marathon and sure, we did. Where are our kids, spouses and friends? I saw some of mine run past me and some are left behind. ‘To each his own’ and ‘you snooze, you lose’ define most of our core purpose at least at a superficial level. We have been asked to win the race, no matter what. We are allowed to push our friends, our fellow runners and take their spots, it’s OK to shoot and stab people where it doesn’t kill them to grab a more favourable position in the race. Who started it? Who gets to call the shots and choose the winner? Out of the corner of my eye I see a few onlookers with ecstatic faces and glowing lives. They are the ones who opted out; they are what ‘the runners’ call ‘losers’. I see them have time to sing, dance and smell the rain. I hear their laughter, I sense their bliss...