Love in absentia

Oftentimes life is like a movie trailer, scenes from the future handpicked and perfectly orchestrated that leave us wanting more. We have in us a certain innocence that makes us want to believe that the promises will be kept. For if we don't, we will be left with pitifully few things worthy of fervent pursuit. Relationships can be tempting trailers followed by hard tests of endurance. At times we learn more about ourselves through relationships than even meticulous introspection.

Sometimes a relationship begs for silence. It ceases to be about sharing the small things that make you smile or about narrating every interesting thought. It takes standing aside and quietly watching life go on without intrusion. It takes waiting and hoping that it will be as fantastic as the trailer promised it will be. This silence would be easy, if only it was not indefinite.

There is a nebulous region in every relationship where it becomes less about getting every little thing you want and more about gratefully accepting the little you receive. Interestingly, this is the region where we grow. We stand deserted by time and energy that once seemed infinite. We recognize new boundaries. We learn how to trivialize ourselves. We learn how to recall the beautiful beginnings and continue to feel fortunate in an altered world.

And when the shiny newness wears away we muster the imagination, sometimes even delusion, to paint a silver lining. We realize that the colorful cocoon we lived in has broken, or maybe was imaginary all along. We give in to reality smiling its dazzling smile and shaking its proud head, saying "I told you so."

Rhetoric

Is it real,
your love for a spontaneity
you refuse to intercept
when it passes you by?

Should it be,
this intrusive impulse
that wedges itself opaque
between you and me?

Ceding to change

Today the mind dwells on change. The mechanics of change is admittedly fascinating, no matter how hard we try to resist it. It is much like salt dissolving in water. The water makes the vainest of attempts to allow the grains to sink to the bottom intact. But they diminish, melt and vanish without a trace. Appearances may defy the truth. But the water stands changed for good, its pristine form so starkly violated. Change really is the only true permanence. For when the change is complete and you look back, the past seems so unlikely and almost wrong.

Solitude was something I thought I understood, although I vacillated between love and hate for it. Now I face a new solitude I never sought. It is the kind I cannot mourn with cryptic elegies or immortalize with heartbreaking verse. Books cannot banish it, the sea cannot snatch it, there is no distraction from it. It is still solitude, albeit a changed one.

"Detachment is a virtue," I always philosophized. The day has come when it seems like a necessity and I find I'm one virtue short. Maybe I lost it in a euphoric journey, maybe it is hiding, maybe it is masquerading. The detachment I feel today is a mere impostor that cannot numb me to the reproach I feel or eclipse the devious deceptions of the world.

I look back and rightly see a past so ludicrous. I wonder if I am beginning to love this solitude criss-crossed with dear memories. I wonder if I ever want to find that cold detachment again.

Prisoner to perfection

There are times when you feel adrift, much like a sailboat bound nowhere. You feel the last strand of cognizance slipping away. In one such stupor, a voice called out to me. A soft voice with little to say, but cradling me in its intonations full of care, and washing me in its resonant melody. I held on to it, I played it in my head like I do my favorite songs, on repeat. Ever so slowly, I learned to read it. It shivered in rage and faltered with emotion. I learned that the voice could smile...

Soon came the banter- countless intellectual journeys into the world of sports, critiques of the silver screen, a beatific flirtation with the written word, poetic trysts with Neruda, magical odysseys with Floyd. Hours flew by, the exploration stretched on, oblivious to night and day. Music flowed, songs sung for a sole listener. Bards of yore and great maestros took turns to visit. The river of life danced in mirth...

An indulgent breeze floated in, bringing with it the aroma of orchids and roses, a delightful midnight surprise! Surging waves, seaside promenades and moonlit silences reigned unresisted. The breeze, unannounced, turned into a velvet caress, a lover's warm embrace, a melting first kiss. So imperceptibly did it turn into a promise of eternity...

This promise renders me speechless. This dream restores innocence. This hope breathes new life. This perfection, it holds me prisoner...