For the love of Romance

And I thought it would stay the same always, between us. Me wanting him, and the still distance. It was always for me the question of living up to him. Living up to what he would expect. The anger at his neglect, the long conversations, the never had dates, the hope that I fit in with those that are his. Always the fear that I am not grown up enough or intriguing enough. But somehow there was never jealousy. He mentioned once how he expects a woman to twitch. I always knew if he smiled about it, I wouldn’t dream of twitching.

But now that it’s time to let him go, maybe I am twitching. I don’t know if it’s ok or if it is supposed to be. But maybe, just maybe this is how it’s meant to be. I always loved Neruda, he talks about unrequited love being more beautiful somewhere. There is still that book he owes me. He is the whole concept of romance in my head. Always was. Everything outside what I could reach. I wanted to be mysterious, mature, happy and exciting. I have always said that women are different with men they want to be attractive to and a lot of those who know me say I never am. Somehow, I was always different with him, around him. I wanted to be better. I learnt long ago its a part of adoring someone.

I remember all the conversations, every single one. About the women he loved, and the women he found attractive and even those he did not care about. About the writers that inspired him, the minds that excited him. But there was always the one clause, never uncovering it. I am superstitious, those I love most I keep at the most distance.  Isn’t it often said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. But distance also assures me that I will keep him closer.  It’s easier always. Always. He was always the pinnacle of my concept of romance. What pains you is the loss of what you might have deserved. The loss of what you never deserved deserts your capacity to think, it strips you of the hope that someday you will bridge those waters. And that is why I always kept the distance. It is easy to discuss life and love but how do you talk about something you understand but don’t comprehend.

I remember he said once, maybe some other time and in some other space we would have been different. It was always extreme emotions with him. Always will be. Extreme anger, extreme love and then somehow thinking he was indifferent to it all. And now its like a funny realisation of the truth that he really was more than an arms stretch away even when I could feel his breath on my cheeks.

You are the extreme of my romance, the being of the chasm between simple love and the conspiracy that romance is. Always were always will be. And I hope someday I can explain better.

 

Of Love

I often feel like people believe that love is overrated. I know it isn’t. Too many who may not know me, I could come across as corny and even a bit of the chik-lit clan. And its funny, cause I never really liked those movies. I think its more because they make you expect too much. Like fairy tales, you know I never liked them much. Grew up with two brothers in the family so always was more of a lets fight sorta girl.

But love, well I was always a romantic at heart. I have grown up in a family where my mom and dad had the most conventional arranged marriage. They hadn’t really seen each other before marriage. And the way I have seen them I think thats what love is about. Its a bout patience and acceptance and just the little things that make life life. In 25 yrs of my parents marriage I have never seen them have a fight, arguments of course, but never a fight. I have seen them eat in the same plate, sing songs for each other in public places and just look at each other not just with love but with respect.

And so my belief that there is love, and that someday I will find that right person. Someone with whom it just feels right. And I have had my share of heartbreaks, lost people that mattered in the process. Been hurt enough to never recover as I thought. But just the other day I was talking to my mother on one of our long night chats, and she said something that I thought was very meaningful.

In our generation, with fast paced lives and changing priorities, we have somewhere forgotten to really belong. And when someone someday can make me feel like I belong, thats the man I am in love with. And then I sat down thinking when was the last time I felt like I belonged. Like it was to hands clasped. And I knew I had never been in love.

And being in love, and loving someone are two very different things she said. I think I have somehow figured that one out.

Bright stars, a moonless night,

There is a path I oft took.

The nooks and cranny of the winding road,

uncovered unexplored.

I am still peeping

still wondering,

still breathing the same air.

Slow dances and jazz

with poetry and flavour,

it knows not the sound of my step

and I hear it neither close.

But there is that story that was told.

And there is my story untold.