Human behavior is strange; there can be an endless debate on the same, and would still lead to no conclusion. Yet, wondering what affects or rather influence the behavior of a particular person, is inevitable. Life is no short of complexities, and here is added one more!
Time and again, I have dismissed a lot many cheesy lovey-dovey notions about what they call 'love'; to the extent that for once, I was convinced it's all but bullshit! But this thing has stuck around forever, adding curiosities and creating confusions over the same subject over and over again. So, I am obliged to give it a moment and ponder over what exactly is the thing called love, and to my own surprise, I have quite a few answers, and more reasons to believe it is more than pure bullshit!
I remember belonging to a world where many rejected even the idea of this so called love and many others questioned even its existence! But, as far as I remember it was a lifetime ago. Too long! Like it never was...
I usually remember the dates and days, but this morning was different; I don't remember what day or date it was... Maybe I remembered everything till 'that' moment, when she entered the decaying studio! It is beyond impossible to make words how that gave 'life' to that studio. I have no idea what was, but something was, weirdly 'special' about this girl. If I remember God answering my prayers instantly, it was that day only.
I am not morally allowed to look back and reminiscent things about her, and yet here I sit writing about her. I remember her telling me 'I am single' had made me terribly happy. As if, I had already won her. Funnily enough, she was with a guy by the evening of the same day, who she was seeing for the last four years. Why? I had re-played her words several times in my mind. Was she lying then? Or, now? But, why the need, at all? I felt stupid, kind of been cheated. It ended, before it could start.
It wasn't meant to be a memoir to look back at, and miss or think about, but it became. Her 'I didn't want to hurt your feelings' was enough to hurt me, and relieve at the same time. I wonder why she did what she did, but I couldn't question it then, the way I can now. Seven days of her being, and seventy million after she had gone; I guess they had given me answers to all the questioning I had done earlier about 'love', as they call it. I have always hated all the boys with 'that' name, as of her guy. I look back at it all, and I feel funny. I still remember how happy it made me when she had told me she had broken up with him. It felt like a victory, again. Damn! Us guys are stupid.
I still sometimes read her old emails, messages, chats and recorded calls. It all feels like a lie, each time.
I didn't want to be in a rebound relationship, and so I didn't jump in right after her breakup. But, she had other plans. Suddenly her messages had increased; she was calling me instead. It all looks like a weird fairytale as I think of it now. Exactly three years later after 'that' day in that dead studio, she came revisiting Delhi. I don't think I have given something more importance over my work, no matter how shocking it might sound. But, there I was; receiving her at the airport, in a borrowed car, in the middle of a design crisis that my urban design studio had become. Sounds like a loser, if you ask me. But, it was the only logical thing I could think of, at that time. After the perfect week back in my first year, here we were, trying to get a perfect month. And yet, a month couldn't live up to the perfect week that originally was.
I almost remember each thing that had happened the following year, and I play it repeatedly in my head. Somehow, the so-called bond was broken the day she told me she was engaged to get married next year. Trust me, I am laughing at it as I type this. Damn, I don't remember how things went from that perfect month failure to failing everything. I have often played it in my mind, what might have gone wrong, or if you ask me, what made things 'right' because surely it wasn't, earlier. Few days later, she was just gone. Vanished. Poof! All her existence ceased. She had deleted her social networking accounts, blocked my email addresses, all of them, changed her phone number and even her house address. It all started to feel like she didn't even exist. Like, she was a figment of my imagination.
And then, one day my phone told me that she was coming back to Delhi. How? Why? I have no clue why she bothered to text me. Suddenly, she wanted me to attend to her at the airport, she wanted to live at my place so we could spend time together. However insane it might sound, things were getting messier than they already were. I don't think there was anything I could do about it. I just refused to be stupid again. I didn't want to be. Why do girls have to do this? I am not generalizing girls, I am generalizing their type. Why do they want us to be on the hook, something they can turn to, each time they want to feel good about themselves. They don't bother. They don't care.
As of today, she's been married for over a year now. Her wedding day matches my birthday, and even though I don't want her to be a part of my birthdays in any form, living or a memory, she somehow just shows up somewhere in the corner of my mind. I have tried, and yet I cannot bring myself to hate her. I never could. I never will. She still remains the only girl I have ever loved truly, madly, deeply; even though, it is one Bollywood Movie, my life is, it is true.
I have no idea why I am talking about all this now, when I haven't shared it with anyone else in the world, never before; and now, I am writing on a blog that's public. But, somehow I feel better, writing about it. It feels like I have finally shared it with somebody, irrespective of the fact that I won't even know who all read this, or didn't. I didn't think of thinking before publishing it, I didn't care if it sounded poetic, or in flow with the rest of my posts as I try to make them, every time. I just wanted to get this over with. It's been ages this has remained in the drafts, and suddenly I felt suffocated and wanted to be done with it, once and for all. It is indeed something I didn't want everyone, or anyone to know, but now it almost feels like I don't care if the whole world knew. I am sounding insane to myself at the moment, and somehow it feels good. Maybe this is why I wanted to do this. Closure!
I remember belonging to a world where many rejected even the idea of this so called love and many others questioned even its existence! But, as far as I remember it was a lifetime ago. Too long! Like it never was...
I usually remember the dates and days, but this morning was different; I don't remember what day or date it was... Maybe I remembered everything till 'that' moment, when she entered the decaying studio! It is beyond impossible to make words how that gave 'life' to that studio. I have no idea what was, but something was, weirdly 'special' about this girl. If I remember God answering my prayers instantly, it was that day only.
I am not morally allowed to look back and reminiscent things about her, and yet here I sit writing about her. I remember her telling me 'I am single' had made me terribly happy. As if, I had already won her. Funnily enough, she was with a guy by the evening of the same day, who she was seeing for the last four years. Why? I had re-played her words several times in my mind. Was she lying then? Or, now? But, why the need, at all? I felt stupid, kind of been cheated. It ended, before it could start.
It wasn't meant to be a memoir to look back at, and miss or think about, but it became. Her 'I didn't want to hurt your feelings' was enough to hurt me, and relieve at the same time. I wonder why she did what she did, but I couldn't question it then, the way I can now. Seven days of her being, and seventy million after she had gone; I guess they had given me answers to all the questioning I had done earlier about 'love', as they call it. I have always hated all the boys with 'that' name, as of her guy. I look back at it all, and I feel funny. I still remember how happy it made me when she had told me she had broken up with him. It felt like a victory, again. Damn! Us guys are stupid.
I still sometimes read her old emails, messages, chats and recorded calls. It all feels like a lie, each time.
I didn't want to be in a rebound relationship, and so I didn't jump in right after her breakup. But, she had other plans. Suddenly her messages had increased; she was calling me instead. It all looks like a weird fairytale as I think of it now. Exactly three years later after 'that' day in that dead studio, she came revisiting Delhi. I don't think I have given something more importance over my work, no matter how shocking it might sound. But, there I was; receiving her at the airport, in a borrowed car, in the middle of a design crisis that my urban design studio had become. Sounds like a loser, if you ask me. But, it was the only logical thing I could think of, at that time. After the perfect week back in my first year, here we were, trying to get a perfect month. And yet, a month couldn't live up to the perfect week that originally was.
I almost remember each thing that had happened the following year, and I play it repeatedly in my head. Somehow, the so-called bond was broken the day she told me she was engaged to get married next year. Trust me, I am laughing at it as I type this. Damn, I don't remember how things went from that perfect month failure to failing everything. I have often played it in my mind, what might have gone wrong, or if you ask me, what made things 'right' because surely it wasn't, earlier. Few days later, she was just gone. Vanished. Poof! All her existence ceased. She had deleted her social networking accounts, blocked my email addresses, all of them, changed her phone number and even her house address. It all started to feel like she didn't even exist. Like, she was a figment of my imagination.
And then, one day my phone told me that she was coming back to Delhi. How? Why? I have no clue why she bothered to text me. Suddenly, she wanted me to attend to her at the airport, she wanted to live at my place so we could spend time together. However insane it might sound, things were getting messier than they already were. I don't think there was anything I could do about it. I just refused to be stupid again. I didn't want to be. Why do girls have to do this? I am not generalizing girls, I am generalizing their type. Why do they want us to be on the hook, something they can turn to, each time they want to feel good about themselves. They don't bother. They don't care.
As of today, she's been married for over a year now. Her wedding day matches my birthday, and even though I don't want her to be a part of my birthdays in any form, living or a memory, she somehow just shows up somewhere in the corner of my mind. I have tried, and yet I cannot bring myself to hate her. I never could. I never will. She still remains the only girl I have ever loved truly, madly, deeply; even though, it is one Bollywood Movie, my life is, it is true.
I have no idea why I am talking about all this now, when I haven't shared it with anyone else in the world, never before; and now, I am writing on a blog that's public. But, somehow I feel better, writing about it. It feels like I have finally shared it with somebody, irrespective of the fact that I won't even know who all read this, or didn't. I didn't think of thinking before publishing it, I didn't care if it sounded poetic, or in flow with the rest of my posts as I try to make them, every time. I just wanted to get this over with. It's been ages this has remained in the drafts, and suddenly I felt suffocated and wanted to be done with it, once and for all. It is indeed something I didn't want everyone, or anyone to know, but now it almost feels like I don't care if the whole world knew. I am sounding insane to myself at the moment, and somehow it feels good. Maybe this is why I wanted to do this. Closure!
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