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!
