No Frog Soup

I no longer know how to address you, so am leaving it blank, although this is a letter.

By the time you receive this, I will have left the country. Where I am going is not relevant- not any more. No matter where I go though, you’ll go with me. And I’ll stay with you… whether you acknowledge my presence or not. Again, even that doesn’t matter- not now.

Why, you ask. I’ll tell you why… so help me God. Just in a moment though. There is something else I need to tell you first. Something I hope will remain untainted by the time this missive ends… something which will remain unspoiled until the end of time.

I love you.

When you read those words, picture me smiling. I can never pronounce those words- even in the silence of my soul- and not feel the irresistible pull of joy surging in my veins.

I love you.

I told you one day, for me to love you is like a law of nature. It isn’t something I can negotiate with… it is an imperative that must be unquestioningly obeyed. You know, better than anyone else, how hard I tried disobeying the injunction. You also know how futile the attempt was. What you perhaps refuse to see is that once I accepted the imperative, there has never been a doubt in my mind. My love for you has made a home for itself in all there is of me… mind, heart and soul. And it will stay.

Now for the reason why.

It is because I love you.

I know you have a certain style. I don’t mean style as in outward appearance… but more in the sense of the style of the man you are- inside. You do things in a certain way. You like things done in a certain way. Your ways are your style. I love your style and never want you to change it. It suits you… it IS you. I couldn’t tolerate anyone messing with it… least of all me.

Had I met you when I was unformed, I would have made your style my own. Then there would have been no need to write this letter.

But I didn’t meet you then, I met you now. Unfortunately for us both, I came readymade with a style of my own. Although we match in essentials, there are many issues in which our styles don’t match. There were just two options for me in this situation. Either I adapt myself to be congruent with what you are, or I stay away from you. Naturally, the second is no option at all.

I decided to go with the first… to adapt… not as a favor to you… but as a gift to myself. With all the truth there is in my soul, I want to tell you this- I tried… I really did. I hope you will believe it.

It shames me to say it, but I failed. I feel as if I betrayed you, let you down. That thought, that realization is like an acid in my soul. It eats away at me… and always will.

Ego… stubbornness… sheer pig-headed willfulness…? No, please. Don’t ascribe such shallow motives to me… you belittle my love for you. In the space where my love for you lives, there is no room for such narrowness. I have no ego… no will. I have nothing to assert and everything to yield. No, that is not the reason.

Do you know how to make Frog Soup…? No, I am not digressing. Bear with me for a moment please.

To make frog soup, you need a live frog. The procedure is to boil a live frog to death.

There are two ways in which you can do it. You can boil water and throw the frog in. Unfortunately, this procedure is very dicey. The frog- with as lively an instinct for self preservation as the rest of us- jumps promptly out… no matter how adroit you are with the lid. Result: No frog soup.

The other process gives better results. You take cold water and put the frog in. You then place the pot on slow fire. The temperature of the water will rise slowly. The frog will adapt to the slow rise in temperature. He won’t notice the change. By the time he is in a position to realize what’s happening, it will be too late and he will have boiled to death. Result: Frog Soup.

There are many conclusions one can draw from this story… even for the human realm. The ability to adapt is a given to all living beings. We adapt too… degree by imperceptible degree. We hardly notice the change, but one day if we look back upon ourselves, we realize the road we have travelled, the heights we have risen to, to stature we have attained.

I have used this story to demonstrate the concept of positive change. I have used it to explain Kaizen. Here though, I am not using it in that sense.

When I look back, I see what I was. And I see what I have become… change by imperceptible change. I don’t recognize myself. This is not what I am… was. This is certainly not what I want to be.

I am a transparent woman. There are no hidden things, no closed rooms, no secret passages in me. What there is, is out there, in the open. I am incapable of subterfuge. I cannot hide things. I know it sounds very bad… because I seem to be implying that you expect me to hide things. That is not what I mean. Let me explain what I DO mean.

There are parts of me you don’t like to deal with. They make you uncomfortable… they conflict with your style. Ideally, you would have wished they did not exist. To tell you the truth, I have wished it too. I have tried to wipe them out… but it didn’t work.

As a concession and a generous attempt at adaptation… you decided to divide me into sections. You now want me to present to you only the parts you are comfortable with… and keep the rest out of your sight. It was the least I could do, given that I was not able to erase those parts. It was generous of you… I know it was.

I genuinely thought I would be able to do it. At least that much, I told myself furiously. I WILL do at least this much. You will never see the parts of me that bring a moment of concern to your heart… or the faintest shadow of pensive thought to your brow. But I had forgotten to take my own style into reckoning.

I cannot hide. The paradox is, I can hide from others, who don’t need me to… and who don’t matter to me. I cannot hide from you. You talked about sharing a life. I could not understand how a life shared in sections could be called a shared life. Neither understand, nor convince myself that it was.

I used the word betray a short while ago. I feel as if I have betrayed you… by not being able to do what you wanted.

The option was to betray myself. I would have done that too… happily… and never regretted it. Then I realized that betraying who I was was much worse than betraying you.

If I betrayed who I am, I would lose the right to say I love you… because I would have betrayed the right to say ‘I’. I couldn’t do that to you… to us. I respect you too much… I love you too much. To have  betrayed my own soul would have placed in intolerable burden on yours. It would have multiplied my sin many-fold… and made you a party to it. I WILL NOT do it.

And so, I’ll take the second option- which was never an option- but is now all I have.

I leave you in your care… and in God’s care. Its funny you know. I never asked myself if you loved me or not. It never occurred to me to ask… to wonder… to question. I know you will bounce back. I know you will be able to deal with it. If getting angry with me helps… go ahead and do it. We have to use whatever means come to hand don’t we…? We are survivors… both of us.

Just shrug your shoulders and say, “Oh, looks like there is no frog soup for dinner tonight.”


Vive La St. Valentine…! 🙂

No Frog Soup

16 thoughts on “No Frog Soup”

  1. Huzun me bhi ek alag hi aamez hai.

    I have no idea about the pain, as pain is a personal experience and only the person experiencing knows about it. So, no comments on that. However, I would like to state that it was wonderfully written.

    It looks funny, but I fell in love with the style of writing.

    1. Pramathesh…

      It doesn’t look funny to me at ALL… just gratifying. Makes me feel very smug too. 🙂

      I ‘opened a vein’ there… that’s all I did.

      Pleased you liked it… very pleased. 😀


  2. Oh my god! I stumbled upon ur blog and look what i find!
    A ready script to MAKE a decision.. A decision to end a beautiful relationship because i cant cut myself in diff sections and I’ve been procrastinating for a long time and not finding right words.
    Thank u Dagny for showing the way.
    Now lets hope my mind doesn’t conspire another story to avoid making a new begining.

    1. Peace…

      If it really is a beautiful relationship, maybe you could try giving it another chance. Maybe talk to your partner once again. Even share this blog with them.

      Walking away is not easy you know… as I said in the story… it is no option at all.

      I am glad you found clarity by reading this story… if that’s what you needed.

      God be with you…


  3. When one cuts a vein in public, the public sees only the pain (self-inflicted, as it maybe!) of the victim.

    Since, you have written this letter, I will assume it is as a woman, by that logic, the man in this case is the antagonist! Who will present his side of the story?

    You have shrugged, albeit after due consideration, your shoulders and decided that there would be ‘no frog soup’. But, did you not ever try to put him in the pot too? Did you not want him to NOT share a few things that made you uncomfortable…was that not ‘how a life shared in sections could be called a shared life.’? Did you not want some frog soup for yourself?

    Is it alright for you not to share a few things – as you choose, but so wrong if he asks for you to add a few more to that list?

    1. Shiva…

      A few points for your kind consideration:

      1. It is obvious you are a man… your handle hardly leaves a doubt… as you intended. Incidentally, there was no great deduction required to find out that I am woman. 😀

      2. You are MOST welcome to write his part of the story. If you are kind enough to send me the link, I promise to paste it here in my blog so people will get a balanced perspective.

      3. I wanted no frog soup. I detest frogs. But I won’t run away from the issue by using this method of guile.

      4. In the first place this is pure fiction. Hence I am surprised at your accusatory tone. In the second, you seem to have some inside information on the interaction the protagonist and her partner had. To say this is ‘richly bizarre’ would surely be the understatement of the century.

      5. Finally, your tone of being unfairly dealt with is TOTALLY giving you away. I suggest you talk to… er… directly. I am sure you’ll get happier results. Just a suggestion… don’t take it personally I beg you. 😀

      Cheers Shiva… do come again. It was nice to talk to you… 🙂


  4. Shiva….whoa man…I’m proud of Dagny for the polite and logical way she responded to your comment. I, for one, found your tone offensive and I’m not sure how I would have dealt with such a comment!!

    I too would love to read ‘the man’s side of the story’ or your blog….

    1. Corinne…

      Thanks for that. I too am waiting for Shiva’s write-up. I hope he writes. 😀

      Great to see you here…


  5. wow. mahila mandal zindabad!
    @ corinne…don’t get so worked up…it’s only a blog and a comment. unfortunately, u’ll never get to read the man’s side of the story.
    should all comments be only about ‘how well’ it is written…

    @dagny, the thoughts are those of the author’s…so i took the liberty to not differentiate between the two – the writer and the protagonist.

    as for the inside info…merely based on your ‘opening a vein’.

    1. Perfectly Average alias Shiva…

      You really are stomping on something aren’t you…? Forgot you used a different ID here…?? 😀

      Cheers… you wont mind if I visit your blog here on wordpress will you…?


  6. Love makes one to adapt – adapt to his or her loved one’s personality, thoughts, action and vibes. The adaptation could be subtle, loud or just neutral but one cannot deny there will be a degree of adaptation when you fall in love. Sometimes the changes could be beautiful that enhances your own “I”, sometimes you loose as in this story your own “I”. So one can embrace love for the change or run away from it. Btw, loved the flow of the story or letter.

    And ya, being a veggie, not going to think too much into the frog soup 😛

    1. Lakshmi….

      Couldn’t agree with you more. Love changes… it can take you out of yourself and set you soaring… the loved one becoming the wind beneath your wings. Or it can snip your wings and condemn you to the dungeon of a wasted, betrayed life. But yes… love changes. It surely does. 🙂

      I just loved your comment. I do hope you’ll visit these pages more frequently… 😀


Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CommentLuv badge

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


Connect with me!

Subscribe via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,954 other subscribers.


Latest Posts