Happened to talk to a friend after a long time. We are friends for over 12 years, and the said person is someone I loved wholeheartedly and was madly possessive about. Days rolled and our priorities have changed, a phone call from the person didn’t quite evoke the same happy-puppy-smile that it once brought. I didn’t use the sweet-secret-pet name to address and was as normal as talking to an airtel customer service.
Does this ever happen to love? Yes, it sure does. I am not talking about getting back to the normal routine after the honeymoon period, but sometimes, the ‘effort’ that the relationship takes goes missing. Maybe, one of you were still throwing in efforts even when the other was not attentive, and eventually, just GAVE UP.
You feel a pang in your heart when he says “I am busy with work!” and your mind thinks about the summer paradise days when he bunked office and rushed to see you with flowers.
She might have had her french exams and didn’t text you good night for several days, and gave you a razor sharp reply when asked. Oh! Boy! There were those days when she used to text you non-stop.
Life has its flagpoles placed at various points that you mature with time, and eventually creates an impenetrable fog that makes you two, emotionally unreachable to each other. Not that you two don’t love each other, or that the love between had died – it can never sink into oblivion, can it?
Sometimes, the love felt during the aftermath of a heated argument leaves one of you to mentally reset that an ‘argument’ should never be a part of the life. Slowly, you get to understand the likes and dislikes of each other, and instead of DEALING with it at the expense of your sanity, either of you chose to IGNORE the contradiction and run the show further.
There’s no tug of war – both of you are holding the ropes and are staring at each other, waiting for the other to pull the rope slightly. The pain point is that you don’t give up because you are affectionate but just for the sake of it, sometimes, one might even feel submissive for that matter.
Can we just deal with it taking one at a time? First, don’t give that impassive look to each other. Stop being inanimate objects at home. Enough being the taut bowstring, and enough letting the terror sink its claws at you guys. Before you even give life to the dying-love, reach out to understand if there’s enough ‘Quiet’ and peace. It can be rusty as hell, and don’t let it go like the sun that slips behind the cloud – remember, it would emerge another day, if not now.
It takes emotional intimacy first rather than any other to rekindle the love. Bring it on! Don’t whip around your issues or what-you/I-did-wrong. Don’t care to give any plausible explanation. More often than not, we tend to claw and rummage at the ‘why’ and ‘how’ and ‘what’ factor but it actually takes a backseat when you want something to work out. Though hard, practice NOT asking questions and TRY not wanting to find answers/reasons. Let go of everything that holds you on, especially, the doubts and insecurities.
There are many crappy links that would preach you to have a couple spa, take a candlelight dinner, and much worse, to perfume and make your bed for some hot sessions – but, trust me, it doesn’t work that way.
Nothing like a time together, a small chit-chat letting go of the ‘ego’ factor and working it out gently, and kindly? It is inexpensive and is sure to work wonders. Let it go, and TALK.
“Who is the winter?” I had responded, almost automatically. It had torn her apart, making her shy away and cocoon into herself for days after that.
I knew from experience that she was sensitive. More importantly, how was she living without me? The worry was nagging me, clutching at my throat.
She was a weird combination of many personality traits – obviously not fitting into any of the zodiac stereotypes. She had been a soul filled enigma, irrevocably colouring a few chapters in the otherwise monochrome book of my life in vibrant shades.
I had known she was keeping things from me since day 1. But I had been too comfortable in my own blindness to think hard about it. I knew I was not getting the complete truth but I couldn’t leave her for that.
She was the risk I adored, a failure I’d cherish and a bitch I’d worship.
Every time I touched my Royal Enfield, wanting to escape the shit that was my life with a long morning drive coasting along the ECR, I would remember him. My Raghu – someone I’ll never forget in my lifetime. He was my serendipity. He was the one I had wanted to meet, fall in love with and live happily ever after together. His innocence and care had been unadulterated and unfiltered and even his kisses would seem gentle, giving and wanting simultaneously, and adding a piquancy to the forbidden platter we were relishing.
Staying miles apart, yet sensing his presence almost close to me – it was magical and unique. In a matter of months, our lives had tangibly tangled, messily interlaced. Letting him go was the hardest thing I had done. Of all the things I hate about my life, this goodbye stands at the top of the list.
Our life together was knit by moments rather than the ‘forever and after’ promise.
The usual spot where he dropped me and waited until I had safely entered my house
His cold stares at the creepy perverts who objectified me sexually.
The way he pulled me closer to avoid the oncoming traffic.
I had fallen in love with him a little more every time he had done something like that. I was practically in another world while I was with him.
His entry in my life changed two things – I no longer felt sick and lonely. I finally knew what it meant to be with a constant companion, for he had always been there either physically or emotionally, running in my mind on a loop like a one song playlist. Secondly, he had brought back my feeling of trust in men. The transition from ‘How will I trust anyone ever again’ to ‘Why would I even think of trusting anyone else?’ had been easy for me with him beside me.
It had been a given that I would never love anyone again but he had picked me up from the hard ground where I had fallen and shattered into pieces – nursing me back to health, carrying me around like the most fragile, gentle thing ever.
P.S – The above is an excerpt from my new release – Dirty Martini. Grab your copy from Amazon If you’ve missed reading the Prologue, please do read now 🙂