Irrational juxtaposition of two souls leading to a mythical, endless and riotic love affair. An affair which is long afloat by a fragile hope on a seemingly rudderless stream. The perdition of such unfortunate and fortuitous events often leaves an indelible mark on one’s thinking percolating through to the core of his philosophies, which are often gullible enough to deserve a crucible of a mature mind and so easily biased by Rand-novels.
Such love affairs seem to be a juvenile delinquency of the doer and he swears of perennial abstinence from romancing with voluptuous figures (or for the purists’ sake –beatific souls) oblivious of the fact that he never committed such crimes in the first place. They just happened.
You stand helpless, skeptic of the obscure audacity within you. The momentum of ballistic projectiles suddenly abates baffled by the mysteries of love. Your faculties, dilapidated by the unkind daggers inflicting your heart, run out of sanity and sanctity. The absence of both is unfathomably traumatic. Tragic ending of an ephemeral love story.
Musing on a chair, in perfect solitude, you laugh at those incredible and cherished moments spent together. So beautiful, though not perfectly harmonic. You reciprocate nonchalantly to the disdainful taunts and looks of fellow men. ’What the hell did they ever know? On a path I’ve chosen to skip’. Draconian Love. Lovers’ trysts peep into your sleep. Everything seems to augment the scourge on your psyche.
Sympathy comes as a soothing balm and seems a dire necessity. A placid countenance on your face exudes a natural aversion to silly human feelings- abstract and foolish. The bliss of love and its promises seems like polished pebbles and crafted shells on a puddle of mud. And your foot is still in it.All the altruism you ever exhibited for your love has gone diluted in the mud. And you wonder why things are the way they are, more in sorrow than in anger.
‘’’Why was she so reticent?’ ‘Was she scared of the ramifications?’ ‘How could she be so rude?’ And why is this simple thing so byzantine and cumbersome?’ Am I the right guy?’ ”
‘Infatuation, infection, addiction, lust, love …..what was it?’
All such questions pop up of the heavy hollow in your mind. There is a strange pleasure in this intoxicating pain. And when the Little Manhattan boy says -
“’Love is an ugly, terrible business practiced by fools.’
‘It will trample your heart and leave you bleeding on the floor.’
‘And what does it leave you with?
Nothing but a few incredible memories’”; its just so satiating to your ego.
As I write this on 14th February, ’08 , a Judgment Day for many myriad affairs, every flashback of good old times pumps a phial of blood out of my ransacked heart. Now we are not to portend the destination of such joy-rides. Still, if at any point of time, you ever have such thoughts or come across such feelings, it’s nothing but True Love. Regardless of what you get (return on the heavy investment), its priceless and a lifetime treasure. Empyrean and sublime, nothing can steal this from you. If you can, forgive and forget-fight with fortitude, if you can’t -
‘Stay happy, Stay Hungry and Stay foolish’.
(Atonement of a kind.At least if it can give such an impulse to one’s creativity , there’s nothing to lose).
{again sorry for the grammatical errors if any}
