I was entirely certain of never falling in love, sure of myself, sure that love shouldn’t find me, that I mustn’t seek love, that I should remain stoic, stubborn, aloof to the very idea of love. A love that shapes a future with and around a certain person replacing all that is. I never knew what love is and now after falling out of love I am still ignorant about this feeling we celebrate, write poems on, compose melodies for and dance to. Have I, but, fallen out of love? I know not. I still ruminate, dissect, muse at what be love? What is the bitter-sweet feeling which we happily christen love? Is it the subtle happiness that envelops us in the presence of that one person, is it urge to see, to touch, to talk, to be with that one person, is it the lasting existence of that one person in every cell, every atom, every lit and dark corner of the mind, every shard of memory, is that one person, rather, synonymous with the convoluted definition of love? I fail to arrive at an answer.
I vividly remember the day you walked into my life. You turned it topsy-turvy, peering through my heart and comfortably nestling in a corner inside me. You became indispensable inciting emotions that hitherto I had only read about, listened and seen. I blissfully told my stupid self that I have fallen for what I detested and happy I was. Happy that I had a person to tell me ‘it is alright’ after a bad day, your texts were what I woke up to each morning, your questions, unending that they were, your concern, the first phone call, I remember missing it and calling you back, the nervousness, the curiosity, the bashfulness, the excitement when I first heard your voice, the regular calls post dinner, the first Skype call when I first saw you, your smile, the colours of your wall, the growing bliss, you, the first time I met you, the first cup of tea, the first hug, firsts of everything. I dreamt of a future together, imagining what our home would look like, what will be the colours of the walls, what will be the names of our pets, assuming that this was it. This was the dream.
But the togetherness dwindled and the colours faded. We fell out of tune, or did I miss the rhythm? The differences kept growing, the common ground kept shrinking, the cracks deepened and it didn’t seem like a beautiful forever. They say likes repel and opposites attract but can chalk and cheese form a perfect alloy? Our differences became larger than our shared lives. Your apathy to tales I would narrate annoyed me and I grew numb with time. Your non-responsiveness to a quote, to a song added more whiteness to my numb self. That no matter how zealously I try I would never be able to change the vengeful, angry, annoyed person you see me as killed me in small dosages. Your quietness all along only to be followed by a sudden outburst led me to believe that all we had was a life of pretence. Your nonchalance, your effervescent optimism, your sluggishness irked me. Yes, I agree this is my opinion, yes this is how I felt and feel, yes it was my decision to move apart, for we had been drifting apart even when together, yes I am an utter mess, yes I left you desolate, yes you refuse to accept it, yes you insist nothing has changed, yes you say we be adults and talk this out, yes I broke your heart but in the course, I broke mine too.
Months of brooding and I gathered courage to walk the lanes we walked upon, we talk again now, we share again now and we have cups of tea together again, although glad I am that Au Bon Pain, the canvas to the memories we shared was shut down. I have had my share of sleepless nights when those silly tears would never stop, I have feasted upon dollops of chocolates and ice-creams, I was drugged with soul-stirring melodies and I think I am sober now. But have I stopped loving you? I shall never be in a position to answer that question. You were the first cut and deep it was. It will heal someday but the scar will show every day.
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