'Madnight'

Cockroaches. They be surprising.

For the longest time, I feared their ugliness. The way the hairs on their feet and their antennae moved. The way they scuttled. I don't remember when I stopped fearing them. Was it the moment when the small variety started making regular appearances in every city I visited?Perhaps.

 One day, my mettle was tested.

The insects scuttled all night. Small noises, barely noticeable. Until my fingers brushed against one of them The hairs on my head stood up. It was 2-and-a-half digits big, and moving. Probably caught in my hair. This was no cricket. I didn't need the lights to confirm. I had to let my hair go. Like the archer whose target it too close to be hit, I knew I couldn't hit it. I needed elevation.

The bed gave me all the strategic advantage I needed for my mission. I surveyed the land before me, listening for what I knew were sure signs of my enemy. A regular sound, clicks, scuttling, cracking. It wasn't what I expected, but I heard it alright. A moth, near my bag. I had to make sure nothing interfered with the mission.

As I flicked the moth, the realization came too late. It was a decoy, that my enemy had used to lure me in. Once again, it had made contact with my skin and there was nothing I could do but retreat, shaken  and infuriated at the same time. To think that a creature that could survive without its brain for a week managed to befuddle mine is a sure sign that its species was going to outlive mine. But will the wits of this individual outwit mine?

Hubris, I thought, searching for my enemy. That's what killed every one of them. It stepped out again, making the same noises; giving me time to step over it and to blindly grab a weapon. I waited for it attack, to make this a combat, not a butchery. Killers can't be choosers. I killed it with a slow hesitant stroke to the gut. The next one was to the head, just to be sure.

Sweeping it up was the easy part, receiving praise for killing was the hard bit. For the first time, I did not raise to the occasion.

This creature has no venom to torment my flesh. It had simple mandibles, for eating, not hurting. It had no way to escape detection. So why enter dangerous territory? Why override the antennae telling you that the human is alive, not dead?

I will never understand what went through it's head. Why it went on this suicidal mission to procure my flesh. Perhaps it is an epic, an epic that needs to be sung, not dismissed. The fiery warrior, who took on the giant demoness, not once but thrice. Who lost. Whose life is not without purpose.

The night will end, and they will all return to their holes, to await another night, ripe with adventures. But that war will be chemical. And the poison will kill every story they might ever tell.

For a day, maybe two.

Advancing to the rear

Sometimes, the only point of a fight is to use all the ammo that one amassed over many previous wars in one incredibly effective offence. Sometimes.

As someone who often steps outside herself to watch a fight play out (yes Sartre, I know you think it's impossible) I find myself suppressing many retorts that are 'too much' for the moment. These retorts are, nonetheless, useful. They get stored in a special part of my brain that plans ahead and is a Girl Scout (be prepared!) and are guarded by cool logic and prudence. To make a friendship/relationship/whatever-the-hell-else-one-can-use-in-place-of-these-pointless-words-used-to-glorify-a-natural-human-social-pattern work, one has to advance and retreat, wrest control and give it away. Watching someone lose it is bad enough but when that is caused by something you said or did, guilt (or the glaringly obvious lack thereof) can make one uncomfortable. Not feeling guilty, but knowing that it ought to be felt so that the other person can feel important and needed, is the worst. It can take a simple 'where are my keys/did you feed the cat/did you do your part of the assignment' query and transform it into a landmine of passive-aggressive.

In this case, the best thing to do, experts say, is 'to listen'. I say the solution is 'to listen while simulating the right body-language, expressions and voice modulation'. It's not lying if it is done to give your friend/lab partner/mom the right feedback they need to get rid of their anger is it?

After they're done venting and you're done playing your part, you might realise that there were plenty of issues you wanted to address too. Like their horrible scrawl all over the neat project report. You can feel the words form sentences in your brain and threatening to come out. Can you keep them in? Good. They need marination.

This was an advance to the rear, not a retreat. Time to consider a fight fought in a space (emotional, not spatial) that gives you strategic advantage.

Such fights need to be planned to perfection. Timing is key and the question that one must ask oneself is this— has my opponent fucked up badly enough? If the fuckup is under or over, the ammo will be too much or too little, and thus, ineffective. How do you decide? Pick a moment when you are angry, but the other person isn't and let it rip. Do this a few times. If the other person counters with examples of your fuckups, the ammo was not enough; if she is more hurt/angry than intended, the ammo was too much. After a few unsuccessful attempts, you will become a pro.

Yes, this is manipulation. But why is it such a terrible word? We constantly do it to each other, consciously or unconsciously. We do it to get things done, to avoid fights, to keep a boat steady, to make a social gathering less awkward and to bring kids up. It is wrong if there is an unequal gain. You'll see that the gains of this method are mutual, with the cost (hurt, tears, pain) spread out. Both parties do not gain at the same time. More importantly, this method requires a great deal of control that comes from caring enough to want to change, or not caring enough to take the bait (choose your pick). It may be months before you learn to guard your tongue and apologise without a counter accusation. It may feel humiliating or like self-flagellation. But you will get a chance to vent out your frustration and at that time, your friend/parent/blah will be in a place to take it without wanting to hurt back.

For those who think this is a girl-thing, I learnt this technique from men, young and old. They just choose not to see it this way.