That was Love

How easy it was, to get carried away. The flood gates of emotions would have got shattered but a promise was at stake. So he remained calm, as if tip toeing on a field laden with landmines. He absorbed the radiance of that priceless smile. He listened quietly, smiling a detached but animated interest. Perhaps she guessed, perhaps she didn’t. That was love.
The games of chances weren’t lost to him। He knew it could very well be the last time he ever saw her. Separating from someone so close isn’t easy. It was like pulling the bandage from the wound. A bond as strong as clotted blood was being torn apart. But he calmly waved good bye. As if it didn’t matter much to him if they ever met again. Perhaps she guessed, perhaps she didn’t. That was love.

Like a glider powerless to contain its own momentum, powerless to steer its own course, powerless to sustain its own flight, he is living on the razor’s edge। He is thrilled, alive and he enjoying the moment. He knows that he has to crash in a forlorn wheat field. He knows that the wind beneath his wings is not his. He knows that someday she would be gone. He knows that for him there is no such thing like a soft landing. But he never forgets to thank her for every moment she is with him. He never asked her to stay with him forever. Perhaps she knows, perhaps she doesn’t. It is love.

No, what wasn’t easy to begin with, won’t get easier। He knows that the time is yet to put his love to the test. He knows that the sacrifice of his own heart awaits him. He knows that he has to do it with his own hand. He would do it but the trial of pain makes him nervous. If he flinched, she would know. If she knows she might sacrifice of her own desire and come along driven by a sense of responsibility. If that happens that would be his failure in the garbs of his victory. No, he won’t let it happen. He won’t let her know that it pains to see her go. Perhaps she will know, perhaps she will never. That would be love.

He knows that the life isn’t perfect। To be loved and to love are the two mutually exclusive choices that he is dealing with. It has been so ever since he learned what love was. He knows that the flights of fancy with one injured wing don't last forever. But now he has made his choice. He would love her whether or not he is loved in return. His love was hers and it will always be. Perhaps she would claim it, perhaps she won’t. Either ways, love is love.


April 8, 2007