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Turbulence in partnership is the only proof that you are in a serious relationship.

Recently, due to changing environment in mine, there has been a lot of it. Having completed thirteen years of a relationship, the fourteenth has come with its own itch.

Lots of changes are going on and I had foreseen them long ago, but now that I am in the middle of it all, I confess, it is taking all my energy to cope up with it, maintain a sane balance and fall into the new model of co-existence/partnership.

This said, may I bring you into the folds of my secret? That being, this is not my first relationship at all. I have had a few to learn from. However, for my partner, this is the first serious relationship. You can now imagine the real problem. One is old enough; the other is being pushed to grow up too soon and ouch! It does hurt.

But I was there only a few years ago, well maybe a decade or three ago, and I learnt to stand up and walk too. So will the other.

But this is not why I am writing. My real reason is, I have started after much soul searching, begun to look at what I left behind, thirteen years ago.
Indeed, I will say, many years ago. And so I am re-visiting myself, the self that loves and appreciates men in my life, from my childhood onward.

Take for instance, my maternal uncle, who put his own life and family aside, to take care of a sister, who was ill and in the family way, with no support from her husband.

Although, at the beginning, as soon as I was born, he urged my mother to return to her marital home, when, she along with her sister, voiced an anxiety to do so, he accepted that his sister along with her new born baby will live with him and he must then, put his own life aside for the time being and focus on theirs.

I was the star of his eyes. He loved me till I grew into a rebellious teenager. Our thoughts clashed and if he said A, then I would certainly say NOT A. If he challenged the clothes I wore, I ensured that I wore them out more blatantly. If he said that T-shirts hugged my growing body too much, I ensured I wore them low enough to expose parts he was referring to. Hence, we battled, nobody knows why, on things I now look back and realise was cut between being traditional and modern.

Was he out playing the anger he may have had in his heart towards his sister for making him put away his life? But it was his choice, wasn’t it? He decided to play the self-sacrificing saviour.

But now I look back and I know. He did his best; he did what he thought best at that moment. And if he was angry about it, it was anger he felt for his own self. It was not anger he felt around me as a person, really, but I was vulnerable and could not retaliate in words, although I did argue and made my stand clear. It was not enough.

I became a rebel. Sprouting from my anger towards him, I spread it around to other men as well, for too long, too hard and too much to bear, even by me.

I would like to put that sword down today. It has served its purpose completely. I know, we have both been fighting each other, our anger rising and feeding into each other’s fire. I want to throw ash on that fire, ash that has burnt both him and me and many who came along on my way.

It is time; I put away an old battle. Or I will lose this one; I am fighting with the fourteen year itch.

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