Clash of The Titans
I woke up this morning and looked at the mirror. And right there before me stood the biggest opponent of my progress, neatly groomed and majestic. I told him, "proud man, get out of my way; behave yourself and prepare for hard times ahead; I'm the boss here." He smiled coyly and replied, "please, we've been good friends for many years; don't be so harsh." There and then I knew well that it's battle time and so cletched my fists for a duel against "me". Now such duels can give you hell on earth, particularly deciding where to kick, which way to do it and by which hand to reach "me". You know the boy "me" appears explicit only in mirrors and literary creations. But I think the greatest battle of the ages must be the one between "me" and "me". And it also must be the most mystical. The weapons, the battlefield and the faithful troops from each side are in one parcel; hence none knows if you lose or win. You can be sure some reading this make us think they haven't lost it while actually they know the already have!
To cut it short, let me write, I bundled "me" into a pair of uncomfortable jeans lest he outshines me, put on him a maroon jacket on top of a blue shirt. I reminded him that going forward I could consider putting a red dress on him, going by his conduct. "These are bad economic times,"I told him once more, "and if you think they aren't, check the price of using arboretum nowadays (50/- per head); I must count the cost of hosting you against the benefit, and woe to you if the former dominates! Boy, these days people even do cost-benefit analyses of marriage-a totally new world order. Be warned."
In short, I recommended him to get a wife who can put up with his ubiquitous laziness, one who will count it all joy. A wife (acronym for 'willing-fully') to appreciate his insistence on classic genteel, a wife (read as above hinted) to give him a hand of communion in his multiple altercations - I wish that he gets a like conservative Pentecostal, since they say like begets like. I read that love is also short sighted and was further optimistic-men, this boy got into my nerves. I prayed for him in my devotion, that some deliverance from wherever may reach our house and take him away. But O I like his noise and zeal-as of any Pentecostal. I hope I'm not getting ready to miss him. Whether he could attract any auction price in his current state, though, is a very valid concern. But with such morning dress downs, there's no reason we shouldn't hope for good. Henceforth, my relationship with "me" stands on its terminal legs, and it's like a trap waiting to trip.
As at now, however, I have won round one of the duel. I managed to force "me" to wake up at 6:50am (record broken) and be in the office by 8:40am (record broken). Right now as I write, I can steal a glimpse of him, folded up and still coy, well putting up with the culture shock, via the reflection on my desktop. I'm thinking of a way to incentivize this trend and, as a seasoned economist of the modern times, we know it works. I'm going to get "me" a cup of ginger tea, and will be talking with him all the more passionately about being a valid man, besides being gentle. I'll keep you posted...
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