Ironical, I sit here to write about a topic that I have so vehemently despised in the last few years, and yet deep inside I am still so tempted at the thought of being in it. I always thought that in the last few years I had changed and evolved, I had moved on in life. After having an unsuccessful stint in this aspect, I had closed all the doors around me and defined the life that I wanted to and yet, things changed. Yes like always, its all about love. I always thought I had evolved to the higher state of consciousness, the risk averse, the love proof guy, the unmarriageable, khulla sand. But one trip and one more stint changed everything.
I never thought I’d fall in love so easily, be so vulnerable and gullible. It’s as if I felt so naked in my own eyes. All these years, I convinced myself and created a niche and seclusion, that were high impenetrable like the walls of troy, and yet, when the mighty fell down to his knees, things changed beyond repair and remorse.
But while falling in love was in itself a new meaning all together for me. It made me open doors to the myriad of emotions, that I felt were buried so deep within that I myself had not realized that it lay in the very courtyard of my very own heart. And while each emotion had its own characteristic feeling, the journey across the four seasons made it memorable for sure, if not pleasure able. It all began with a friendly affair that was clearly defined to be strictly friendly. The friendly chats, the platonic coffees, the innocent lunches that probed into the psyche to understand each other and perhaps attempt to explain each others personality. The innocuous jokes and flirting, casually hanging out with each other, going out shopping, occasional dinners. But some where down the lane, all the innocence and platonic instances, resulted in the tectonic movements of the heart and it turned out to be longing of each others company that the heart looked out for. The longing of a heart that just simply wanted to be loved. Too mushy? Let me make it a bit more realistic.
Longing for that one phone call on the weekend asking for your company. Longing to be the close niche friend whom you’d not have any false charade of pretending. Trust enough to ask him out for an innocuous movie or an evening out at a dinner. At times, after all the days I spent with her, I longed for a phone call every time I was lonely. A phone call to just talk. I guess it was just to reach that stage when we were just rue to each other, having won each others trust. I guess, this was the biggest high for me. Irrespective of how it turned out, irrespective of whether we hooked up or not, I guess, it was just the fact that if I had won her trust, it would have meant a lot to me. Trust that required no pretentiousness in our interaction with each other. Just being true and honest in each others interaction.
It was like going back to your days as a teenager, when you had mind games, anticipating the moves she would make, and the moves you’d make in reciprocation. It reminds me of the songs from ishqiuya, with the lines dil to baccha hain. And while the journey of pure pleasure of company which seemed to be so innocent, I never realized when it turned to longing. Longing that lingered on. Lingered on like when the lips when accidentally brush across and yet, while you loved it, you didn’t want to admit it and longed for more. Times which made you so vulnerable that hindered your perception of right and wrong, when you were there feeling her breath on yours, tasting her in your mouth, but not strong enough to decipher the right and wrong.
And while as the innocent friendship somewhere transitioned into the friendship you never wished it had, it probably opened Pandora’s box that made you think at each step whether you had felt the same way before for some one else. Every small thing seemed so enchanting and tempting. Perhaps this was always a one sided affair which made you question yourself on what you should be thinking. Each walk from the train station made you question and talk to yourself, on why you should perhaps not be tempted to think that this was love. Innumerable chats with yourself, jogging on the treadmill, eating that lonely dinner, it just made you questions the unavoidable. Just having discussions with myself, and the topic was always her.
And perhaps this made me embark on the journey that bordered on my insecurity and ventured into the territories of jealousy. Jealousy that made you green, which made you question why she was not with me. Aspects where you felt naked and winced when you looked at the devil in yourself in the mirror. You wish you could runaway from a glimpse of your own self.
At times in the evening after work when I questioned myself as to why she was not with me, I always wondered if there was some body else. Some one else who made her smile and happy more than I did. But perhaps, the devil resides in your own mind, and that the shelter to the devil can not be destroyed till you look deep into the insecurity that you posses in your mind, but are not courageous enough to face. Insecurity over questions like what if she had a secret lover. What if she had the sinful pleasures from someone else, because you were just not as good looking. What if all her interaction with me was just a lie, a smoke screen that hid her real self, which might have been so different.
I did accept that while the world often spoke of looks not be as important and that women were smarter than men when it came to selecting partners, I just had this insecurity that looks are deceptive. Perhaps, while people spoke of things which were socially acceptable, yet deep inside, there were primeval feelings of desire and longing that surpassed the boundaries of social acceptability and dawned upon the valley of desire. Desire that was dictated by good looks and perhaps myself having the meager looks, I fathomed why she did not have an interest in me. As I dawned upon the insecure and lonely journey of what if she had a secret lover, in reality, I didn’t want an answer and didn’t want my heart to shatter beyond repair. The, what if questions perhaps just answered the questions fuelled by my own insecurity, yet, it didn’t quench my thirst of her companionship. Jealousy that just didn’t restrict into her not being around being attributed to my average looks and her secret lover, but jealousy over how she spent her time and why it wasn’t with me. At times I suspected, that perhaps she was smart enough to be going around with another colleague or friend, but having her good time with me as well. I knew this was perhaps wrong, but then when the devil is dancing in joy and you are bitten by the love bug, you are anyways not reasonable.
Gradually, when your realized that the forces of nature are incomprehensible, you just decide to move on and live with them. After innumerable attempts to play mind games, when you decided not to talk to her because she might think you are desperate and you thought to test your waters by holding on and expecting that phone call to come from her side. But the call never came. And when it did, it was when she needed something. While I convinced myself not to be shallow, but I would be a liar if I didn’t admit that at times I thought of her manipulative.
At times there were moments, when you made innumerable pledges to not call her any more, to not speak to her because she was acing pricy, but one look at her made you forget all your pledges, and there you stood in the doorway, with your heart in your hand, garnished on a plate, just waiting for her to notice. No matter how hard I tried and now matter how strong willed I was, one look at her made me forget the innumerable promises that the mind made to the heart to avoid being hurt. But I guess, promises are meant to be broken. Her looks were just like the waves crashing on the sand castles on the sea shore, taking everything along with it. And there she walked in and walked away with my heart.
Perhaps this was the feeling of helplessness, when I went into the no mans territory, where I myself acted like stranger to myself. Despite telling myself previously to stay away and avoid the hurt, and not being so easily accessible, whenever I got a chance to be with her, I just forgot everything. And later, I cursed myself as to why I was so helpless and meek. Angry at myself on being manipulated. Angry at being so madly in love. Angry to have feeling which would perhaps never be reciprocated. What would I do with these feelings that had developed in my mind for her, but perhaps which would never find the way across to her. It was as if all these feelings turned residual in nature, which would have to dissipate over time. But perhaps for the time being, these were getting bottled, and trying to find a vent out of my mind and heart. But not finding that way out, these were creating all the restlessness and turbulence in my own mind.
There were lot of attempts to stay away, but the more I thought and at times acted on it, the more I missed her. Greater was the turbulence in mind on how I’d live to have each of her moments with mine. And as I stayed on the edge, waiting for her to open up my heart, somewhere the rains didn’t come along and the flower never blossomed. And that is when I hurt myself. Hurt that came after so many years, which was so painful that I regretted falling in love for the first place. If this was what love was all about, I wished I had never fallen into it. Now when I look back, the pain that is associated with such strong feelings is something that cant be described with words. Driving alone, each day, I wondered why it didn’t work out the way I wanted to. I wondered, whether she was the one. I questioned if she felt the same way but didn’t want to tell it to me. I questioned perhaps if she probably misses me the way I miss her. But all these questions were just a smoke screen. In reality it was just that I loved her and I missed her beyond any boundaries. At times, I was guilty of hurting myself. I didn’t want to let go of her. I held onto the ghosts of the past, ghosts of the times that I spent with her. Memories of the innumerable chats, the quips and the jokes, her smile and laugh. I purposefully clung on to her memories, not letting go. I know as exciting it was falling in love with her, I knew I had to go through the pain. Soemwhere in my heart, I tried to keep her alive, but subjecting myself to the pain. Perhaps it was pain that kept me alive and kept me away from becoming numb. There were times when I just sat and leafed through pages of a magazine aimlessly, but far away in my mind thinking about her. I drove around the streets, just because I wanted to think about her in solitude. It was perhaps my way of getting back and punishing myself. Punishing myself so that I can distinctly remember the hurt and avoid falling in love again. Perhaps it was my way of hoping that she got to know that each moment I was dying, as she walked away from my life and ignored my feelings. I knew she knew I was dying but she perhaps didn’t have the heart to stop me from hurting myself. I just thought at times that I really needed to go through the pain to make sure I knew that my feelings were for real. I was not just going to forget everything just because things didn’t work out my way. Going through the pain was really the way of repentance. It was perhaps my way of showing myself how worthy my feelings were.
And all this happened despite her telling me on the firs day we met that she loved someone else.
I guess love happens and love hurts.
