When you fall in love, you want it to be a fairy tale. Everything has to be perfect.
Even though you have hardly been ‘the’ romantic, when you do slip and take a dive your heart yearns for all the clichés outlined in every book on romance and every saccharine sweet and soppy movie.
I would generally be paranoid to see anything that intimately identifies me in the hands of another person, especially of the opposite sex… but, here I am wishing I would someday have someone carry a pic of mine in his wallet and not because he is stalking me with murderous intentions.
The knowledge that he did keep someone close to his heart and a pic to remember her by even after her goodbyes makes me yearn for that simple gesture to be mine to treasure.
Koi rishta nahin raha, phir bhi
ek tasveer laazmi si hai
When he speaks (or writes) or when he recites poetry… I want them all to be for me. I would diligently and rather foolishly check every post he makes on his blog for something, anything that alludes to me… to what I mean to him.
Ironically, or is it just incidentally… every time my presence in his life is hinted at, it is for some idiotic thing I said or a stupid deed I did, or something that upset him. Even then, it lights up my face… now, there’s the irony.
A woman mature I am (and I sound like Yoda), yet with him I relive the innocence of childhood, wanting to hold on to that protected feeling.
Up until now, I have faced the world alone and fought my own battles… and that would never change. I love these battles with life, yet time and again I want to let go of the ‘me against the world’ feeling… lay my troubles on his shoulder even though I know he has more than enough of his own and just close my eyes and let him work his magic.
Like every lady in love in the sweetest of fairytale romances, I wish his troubles away, wish him to be as happy as can be… and I want him to tell me his problems. There is a sort of jettisoning in the telling… a lightening of the hearts and a connection that binds gently, yet intricately.
I want to have a hint of vulnerability when I am in love. I don’t want to be a rock, against which the tide of life crashes and pulls away, slowly eroding it. When the circumstances are unsavory, I do not want to hold back my tears and be stoic.
Even when there is an inevitable parting in the future, I want love to be exactly like they say it would be… starbursts and magic, a little sweet and a lot spicy with none of the pink!
© Surya Murali