Once upon a time in a fictitious land called, Letscallitpandharpur, there was a very just king. He just loved to be with his wife. And he just loved to keep away from booze. He was just a perfect teetotaller. Now you see why he was just. The king and the queen had a kid. Let us call him Prince.

Prince was an angel. No he did not wear white diapers and did not have feathery wings. He was cute and pink and would be nice to everyone who came to visit him and who played peek-a-boo with him. He wouldn’t wet his undies at untimely hours, as he knew that the wetness would cause rashes that would become cactus when he would sit on the royal carpets on the floor.

But as he grew, he started throwing tantrums and people ran all round him to catch them, lest he would break them, for you see, it’s a royal palace and all of it has royal importance. He would ask for a white pony to sit on and then when all of the kingdom would be searched for one and a white pony brought for the royal offspring, Prince would want to ride the Prime Minister. (Bloody inverted paedophile).

His favourite tantrum was, “I’ll hold my breath till I am blue.” And Queen mother and all of Prince’s attendants feared this part the most and complied to his wishes lest he chokes himself.

Once, this wise old baba Bengali came to the palace. Out of royal etiquettes, Prince welcomed the sagacious being into the royal visitors’ room. And then he wanted to peep into the saffron clad being’s cloth bag. By know it had come to be known that Chandrasaw-me from India was on a trek to Letscallitpandharpur. Prince was now going to throw his ‘I’ll hold my breath till I am blue’ tantrum for the cloth bag. Saw-me decided to humour the kid. He winked at the queen and her maids and told Prince that he would not part with the bag, come what may.

Prince filled himself with air and pinched his nose and made his mouth an airtight Tupperware product. The palace watched on, with bated breath. Prince’s face turned red. The queen who had been smiling at the crooked Saw-me was getting anxious now. Prince turned beet-red and then roaring crimson. Saw-me just looked on, amused. The maids were annoyed at him. Saw-me just wasn’t looking at them and if something happened to Prince, they’ll have to forgo Royal employment and the fringe benefits it offered.

Prince’s face turned dark blue and he still held his breath. He went on and on and the colour deepened into altar-purple. The queen had almost rushed in to save her child when Prince went “Poof!!!” stuttering, spluttering and gasping for air, amidst roaring laughter from everyone in the room. He looked up at all the people and slumped into his mother’s arms, which too were quivering with amusement and exhausted relief that her son had finally learnt a lesson, all thanks to Chandrasaw-me. Wink. Wink.

I wonder if breaking ties is that easy? If it was the langot on the neck, it is easy. But, now, my friend, we are talking about human ties, bonds. Let’s not get the word ‘relationship’ into this, for, that takes this monologue into a totally different runway.

By breaking away, you mean ex-communication? Not talking to that person etc?

Great. And what is it that you want to gain from it? Do you realize that it only constricts, restricts the wholeness in your heart? It is but baggage that you keep adding to yourself. You already have enough of it buddy.

If Sudhakar was to talk on this, he’ll surely talk elaborate on the virtues of ‘so what?’

“She told you to go to hell, so what?” “He calls you names behind your back, so what? Does that make you what he calls you? Jhust lhet gho”

It pains me no end to see people severing ties like they were useless burrs that stick to your clothes as you walk through the wild. The reasons could be varied, but I am sure once you let go, it won’t look any bigger than the auto rickshaws that we see from atop Mumbradevi.

Let go of the baggage and just keep busy, hear songs, read-up things, write blogs (like me). You know what song works for me? Queen’s We are the champions. This song rocks, thanks to Freddie Mercury. The rush that I get from it tells me every now and then, “I know what I am, I know my own worth, I am just waiting for the perfect time to hit myself into ‘success’ mode. Aah, the route of immunity.