{Of all lies, art is the least untrue - Flaubert}

Monday, June 27, 2005


It was almost ten summers they have met, they still remember the first summer they spent together. Both of them felt that summers have gone bitter since then. It is probably the only thing they will agree now. Both have tried their best to get over that summer in their own furtive ways. A decade of bitterness and distance seemed to fall short to wash off their first touches. It pained now to the level it soothed then but they have moved on in their lives, better to say in their careers, trying to forget the little life has offered to them. Love is hard to pursue, even harder than to forget. This must have given both of them some respite, they were in the easiest of the two most difficult worlds. Everything changes once you touch the fire, pure and white fire.

She was not very sure why she decided to meet him, she even called him but cannot utter a word as she sensed the same bitterness in his voice. She didn't want to open up old wounds, also deep in her little heart she dread that some may heal too fast, the last bit of him may disappear. She doesn't want to look back at that summer too, for she is almost bored by doing so. The same situation, the same analysis, the same conclusion, the same insult, the same guilt.

When he called her, it was not for sake of curtsey or something to level things up, its because he still loved her, although he in this lifetime will not agree to it because his heart doesn't say that anymore with enough force. With time the loudness of love decreases but frequency increases. It just cuts you mildly but vitally.

The day after the meeting, they both decided never to do that stupidity again and not to hinder their sole goal of moving on and out of it. But that night they realized that nobody is perfect and love is not about finding and expecting perfection. Probably imperfections keeping it going. Perfection and any attempt to be so spoils everything. They both talked little, rather very little, just searched their little corners in each others hearts, trying to see if even their frequency of pain resonate or not. There were very conscious efforts to avoid any eye contact, leave alone the contacts. It was painful for both of them. Seemed those two hours just refused to past. It is more painful sitting near a dying dog than a dead one. You wish he could die soon, stop clinging to life. There is nothing horrible than the sights of dying lives.

With so much of memories in her big bold eyes, he expected that she will at least weep alone in her home, just to wash everything away. This may be the only thing that their love deserve now. She did weep the whole night and expected he will call her to say the last bye, the last words. He never called her since. They never met since then. They both moved to pursue their goals, also trying to find some easier relationship, although not that deeply felt. Something mild should do.

1 comment:

olpi_gopi said...

hy, a good one. pretty serious one, but brings that heavy feeling in the heart.