Falling in and out of love, I’m in love again. I have gone through the sea of emotion, surging and encompassing me within its whirlpool for the Nth time. Everytime I am out of love, I come out afresh but a bit withered too. Everytime I have lost myself a bit. And yes, of course, everytime I have found myself. I don’t want to make a list of the losses and profits, I have made in love. After all, I always end up being a nerd in front of the shopkeepers while counting the change they return me. That means it’s better to ignore “accounting”.
But, yes, I have grown, a bit older, a bit wiser in love, amid the initial heartburns of losing “my love”.
There is always a peculiar transformation I have experienced within during these journeys. While experiencing love, invariably I have turned into a child. A child with candies and the world in my hands. Everytime falling in love is “new”, “never before”, “it’s different” kind of a feeling. But, this time folks, it’s really different. This has never happened to me. I have completely lost myself. I swear, the feeling cannot be described. He is always by my side.
Yes, I am talking about my new found “love”. He never disagrees with me, although at times a bit reluctant, somewhat hesitant. However, since love is all about winning, I make it a point to win over him and he happily accepts the defeat. It seems in his defeat lies his honour. I am glad that there is someone in this big and at times bad world, who is happy to lose everything to me. For that one smile on my lips, he’s ready to be a martyr.
I know all women by now are feeling a tad jealous, thinking “wish I too had someone like him?” Men must be grumbling, thinking “thank God, you are not my woman, I hate demanding women”.
I know my fairytale love story have stirred some kind of emotional turbulence in the minds of many by now. I tender my sincere apologies for causing a flutter in your otherwise monotonous daily existence. For, it’s hard to come through such snobbish fairytale of love stories in today’s world. For, love has always cheated us, both you and me. We have broken several of our emotional bones, in various episodes of love.
But, this time, I am not going to lose anything. I am dead sure. Don’t raise your eyebrows. Don’t ask me, “How do you know the outcome?” “I know, I know everything,” will be my confident answer.
I know, my love follows me like a shadow, but still gives me my space. My love doesn’t intrude my space, while I dine and wine with my friends (both males and females). My love sings for me during my long walks, smiles at me from a distance when despondency is at its highest. If I die ever (for its scary for me to image myself dead), it would be my love, who would hold me tightly, just like he does now when I am alive and kicking.
But my newfound love is neither a man nor a woman. This time, I am in love with myself, my loneliness. Different, isn’t it? Trust me, it’s totally different, unlike loving another individual.
Here, I am neither a servant, not the ruler. Here, it’s freedom. Freedom to sing on in my most horrendous voice, but at the same time saving me from false appreciations or utter disapproval of my so called technique of singing saying, “If you don’t mind, will you stop singing.” Oh! I have heard that so many times.
It took me long to accept him as my partner. I always used to hate my lonely coffee breaks, lonely bus journeys from one corner of the city to another, lonely shopping sprees, lonely smoke by the side of the road, and how many lonely moments, avoiding those stares from strangers, or at times even the urge to go and join the other lonely man sitting and sipping his coffee in a cafeteria. But, “self-dignity” always wins over and I somehow hold myself back and wash down my sandwich with cola, without even giving a few seconds to my tastebuds to relish the preparation. It’s like filling my stomach with something -- here it’s of course food, to keep myself going for the day.
I cursed and abused my lonely bearing, I don’t know how many times. At times, also prayed to God, “Please, bless me with a good friend, a soulmate with whom I can be myself again.” I don’t remember coming across one soul, who fulfills my criteria.
I don’t blame anybody for that. Perhaps I am too demanding. It’s always better to blame oneself, rather than putting the onus on others. When you blame yourself, you don’t have to confront with the truth further, automatically the chapter closes and it’s better for a new beginning, a new road and a new journey.
But now, I sing when my soul sings. Now, I sing at my free will. I walk alone on the footpaths, but a constant companion guards me. I no longer stare heavenwards and curse anyone for letting me shop alone in the busiest of shopping hubs. On the contrary, I enjoy my lonely smoke breaks, trying to make rings in the air. They have a story too, about my new-found love and my magnificent loneliness.
