Too long have I desisted from writing this diary. Holding it close to my heart, I have hugged my secret —— till today. I have a confession; Confessions. It all started with Oprah, I think, many years back. “Most women harbor fairy-tale notions of Love”, she had said. I disagree; rather fiercely. Most women settle for THE mundane, THE ephemeral, THE material. I hear their protests even as I write this. But I persist; I wage this lonely battle for my most cherished ideal: for LOVE.
Ever since I have known my existence I have worshiped Love. Revering it with passion and adoration, I have hugged it close to my soul, exalting it beyond all others. I have watered Love with my tears, giving it what no one has —— perhaps, which no one can. I lose, today, my garb of humility and stand out, stark and proud. I have been in Love, once, twice, a million times. Perhaps I have set my Love up on too high a pedestal - no man can possibly reach its lofty perch.
Whenever I have surrendered to Love, I have done so with complete abandon. With no thought for my own well-being or those who cherish my welfare, I have indeed ended up hurting those who have loved me for those whom I have loved. But, in return, I have sought as well. I have sought rewards off Love that defy the comprehension of most men (and women) —— Love itself. And I have forever been lonesome in this scramble for Love.
Perhaps that is what had set me apart even as a child. I knew no one else who could feel Love and pain as intensely as I could. Why did I think so? Instinct? Intuition? But I know I have not been mistaken. I have believed that Love would happen; and happen magickally. I have believed in soul mates and karmic bondings; always believed that soul mates separated at birth are left to seek out each other. It is this process —— the trial one needs to go through to attain bliss; moksha; nirvana; salvation. The soul's instinct is to search for, to struggle for union with its Twin Self, its soul mate. It is this anguish of separation, this fiery path that brings out the best in oneself. Gradually, one learns of the intimate relationship that Love bears with spiritual emancipation, with learning. It is this chasm that one needs to bear cross with forbearance.
Perhaps that is what had set me apart even as a child. I knew no one else who could feel Love and pain as intensely as I could. Why did I think so? Instinct? Intuition? But I know I have not been mistaken. I have believed that Love would happen; and happen magickally. I have believed in soul mates and karmic bondings; always believed that soul mates separated at birth are left to seek out each other. It is this process —— the trial one needs to go through to attain bliss; moksha; nirvana; salvation. The soul's instinct is to search for, to struggle for union with its Twin Self, its soul mate. It is this anguish of separation, this fiery path that brings out the best in oneself. Gradually, one learns of the intimate relationship that Love bears with spiritual emancipation, with learning. It is this chasm that one needs to bear cross with forbearance.
It is here that most men (and women) fail.
They settle for the less than perfect. Blinded by physical beauty, wealth, lust, social norms, and a plenitude of other reasons, they 'marry' and 'settle'. And, as the saying goes, they ‘fall’ in Love. The shallowness of the relationship is taken to be the truth. And then after a while, the charm wears off. And once more the soul is awakened to restlessness.
Most ignore these nudges and lead “normal” lives. For those who manage to break free from the shackles of their illusory love affairs/marriages awaits perhaps a worse fate. They know not what they are seeking.
It is by chance, then, by some turn of Fate that soulmates meet. And fall in Love, again.
What then? What thereafter? Do they live “happily ever after”? No, not at all. If Love were to be the static, the unchanging, wouldn't it lose most if not all its charm?
Tulsi, chatak prem ko nit nutan ruchi rang.
Love is like the hues of the sea, the mystique of the sky...ever-changing, ever attractive.
I read The Little Prince when I was barely out of my childhood. In times of need, I turn to my childhood, I seek solace in the dreams I dreamt, ideals I believed. So I recalled, ‘Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’
“What makes the desert beautiful”, says the little prince “is that somewhere it hides a well.” My LOVE, my soul mate exists, then, somewhere. I see him with my heart, though not with my eyes. I sense his presence in the world and that makes my life bearable; the world a more tolerable place —— if not beautiful.
