At a far away place,
In meadows, in parks, under a tree,
I imagine, lovers soaked in rain.
Yet so aloof,
Rendezvous in a mid monsoon afternoon,
Eating chocolates, sharing kisses.
A perfect world of Adam and Eve
Once upon a time, sometimes on the 9th of July, I met this thin, frail woman. In every sense of the word we were actually a weird union. In contrast to her, I am a huge, colossal mass. But that time, the small part which I call happiness, (In pursuit of happiness) we clicked together perfectly. Sometimes, too daringly perfect.
So it all happened that beautiful summer night. Love struck me, and I found a new reason for living, a new meaning that completed my life. Often time stood still, in midst of shimmering rain, tranquil evenings, and under fluorescent moonlit nights. All those beautiful moments I spent with her were a slice of heaven. Now I relish in the thought that these moments have been in exact precision etched in the diaries of time. I often sweep through the pages to make myself feel that if there were bitter times, there were better times too.
Evanescence came. Evanescence went. But it was like a furious storm that destroyed and leveled to the ground all that stood tall. And exactly on the 9th of July, a year later, I found myself torn apart, broken down in spirit and soul. A lovely year came to a close, with a broken heart and a lame spirit. I called it quits. This time for sure, at least or otherwise I would like to believe. I made it the 11th commandment of my life; Thou shall not love any more for thou shall grieve the pain of forlorn.
So many times I reminded myself that life is not a bed of mughal roses, of palaces and princess. So many times I felt defeated. Yet it moved on. The pain of living was difficult to bear, but the pain of not living was too fearful. So I held on the last string of hope and I survived this long. Life dragged on and I followed it, ruthlessly. Often life fled me when I came about it. It was a race, me doing the catching up.
However, over time, I made it to myself that I shall never love a woman again. To be true, I could never dare after the pain I went through. A dark shadow of fear loomed around and gripped with the fear of getting hurt, I never ventured out. This phase was the most barren part of my life.
Basically I was torn, pulled apart by the forces of my conscience and the void of my existence. The net result: I was completely shattered. I went through disappointment and depression, saw and experienced the ugly part of my mind. And again I promised I shall never love. I call this phase the hibernation part. I grew thick fats to ward off Cupid’s shafts.
I went through the five stages of break up too; a close friend of mine would often talk about. First it was the incredulity stage where I could not believe she had left me for another man. The second, the anger and resentment phase where I was infuriated by what she did to me. The third stage was the bargaining phase where I coaxed, begged and cried for her to love me again. The fourth stage was depression, where through days and lonely nights I became the prisoner of my own mind. The fifth stage was the acceptance.
Finally I accepted the truth and decided to move on with my life. I went through it all, I swear. I questioned myself time and again and tried to find answers to each problem that throbbed my way. Answers found, I experienced a serene whiff of sanity and pleasure-the joy of life. In my pursuit to know myself, better the each passing moment, I delved so deep, neither did I find the person in me nor did I come out of the mental pit. Period.
When I was least expecting, then miracles started happening. All over again. One drowsy afternoon when my mind had lulled to slumber, I was woken up by the glaring noise of my message ring tone. In sloth, I picked up the phone, cursing. With my eyes refusing to open, I read the message on the scarred screen on my phone. A new number. But interesting stuff. The weekend is booked.
I meet this girl well as strangers but when I leave her I felt I had known her for ages. Fountains of sparks and stars flew all over in my head. It is just a small spark that lights a fire. I had found my spark. If hope is there to stay, I am here to change my world. For the better of course. Darkness fell on me but I am seeking the light. My heart beat a little faster as I wrote this down; I felt a surge of blood rush through my spine, and I knew, to say sorry takes nerve, to forgive, love.
It is so divine to fall in love and to be loved. Even the idea of falling in love is enchanting. She came and gave a new lease of life to me. She healed my wounds, held my hand, and I never felt lonely. I found another meaning to go on living, for a long time from now. Happily. This small part of my life is happiness.
I will never fall in love again. I had lied.
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