Jijeevisha had often wondered about this and the best thing that seemed to explain all of was to get struck with the cupid’s arrows. If you were in love, then you will know what love is. (Most probably?) But that was the most amazing thing about love, she had heard that you couldn’t try and fall in it because it happens by itself. Poor her! So, she had to wait until it Happens…
But was it really so? Does love actually happen by itself? Why do then certain things about love are still kind of fixed usually? A thing like one inevitably falls in love with people of their own class (or someone richer). Why is that we don’t fall in love with a poor beggar on street or perhaps someone who is ugly or fat? People do and might sometimes but that occurs rarely. Perhaps the whole notion of falling in love then might be a farce. A joy rose in her heart. It traveled like a stream of blood from her heart to her lips and to her eyes in a sparkle. This means she could try and fall in love. All she had to do was to find a proper object for love.
She was still lost in thoughts, puzzled in her mind about other things. She was a teenager and figuring out these multifarious questions running and popping parallel in her head was difficult and with each question her heart beat had increased, a certain chilling thrill she had felt and a nervous and curious excitement of traveling on this passage of questions of mind and never knowing where it will lead or even whether has it a destination or not.
Things had flown in her with her blood. The joyous and excited hormonal rush ran through her much like an orgasm in the experience of thoughts. Then, she was exhausted. Perhaps still not satisfied and her curiosity asking for more. But something had been torn in her and the realization of self divide was as much ecstatic as it was dangerous and something she had tried to avoid knowing always that her desires won’t let her do that. The moment had come when the mind had violently taken her and she breathlessly running with thoughts was now left exasperated with a loss that she has most dreaded. She was hot now and sweating- a fear and anxiety had gripped her when she tried to find the actual point where she started. Slowly, she became cooler. Back to the normal world, but could she return there after such an aggressive encounter?
Yes, tomorrow was school. She was bored with it now. But maybe she could find a guy there to fall in love with. But there were no interesting guys there. Not the kinds that she would like for herself. Not that she had ‘types’ which her friends were always asking her about. But when they did fall in love and were asked to enumerate the reasons why they did or what do they love about the person- there were never any answers, except the stupidly obvious ones which also came after much of strutting, stammering, shying away and thinking- they would say “oh! He is cute.”
Tired now and mentally exhausted from thinking she thought she would take some rest. Waking up at 6 – she hated that but the green lush lit sprawling gardens she loved. Aah- the sunlight shone through them and slowly she imagined herself in an edenic scene. The sun shone bright yellow reflecting on her skin the light. She felt as if she could take it all in. her brown curls ruffled by the air and she in a short white and pink dress and her flowery pink scarf in her neck. She could not see her face in the dream. She somehow never could. She had to only think that was she. She experienced that but in her dreams she wasn’t there ever- she knew it was she but neither her body nor her face was ever seen.
Why is that she wondered… why could she not see herself ever? Another question she did not have answers for. God! Now she was tired of them. She had to know the answers, soon, very soon. Who knew what lay next. While she was standing there spreading her arms to embrace the scene, she thought it was heaven… but that meant she was dead. It could be. At the back of her mind she knew it was only a dream that will end soon but now the yellow was disturbing. She did not want it anymore. A big bowl of yellow pulses- she thought- and she hated that. But mother always told pulses were good for health. And anyways her hair was getting damaged. Funnily, she remembered the L’Oreal advertisement – 5 problems, 1 solution. And she wished life was like that. The white and red of the advertisement splattered on her very dream now like a hospital bed sheet red in blood. She thought herself again now dying- out of breath on the bed. And wondered how was her death going to be? When? Where? Why?
Her fears took a toll on her now. Was she going to die alone? Was there no one in the room when she died? When she saw a dark hairy hand that held hers. A blue rolled up sleeve, a check shirt- white and blue. And then there was a man- dusky, tensed, holding her hand telling her she will be alright. He was biting his pink lip. She felt her pain fading away as she saw him with wonder. Who was he? Who was he to her? She had never seen him before. His light stubble was attractive, she thought. Now she was not out of breath, she was calm only her heart was racing- this time probably with love, was she in love finally? The man rested her head on the pillow. She could still feel the warm gentle touch. It was like death had run away; it would come some other time. This time they cannot be disturbed. What a bliss it was. She was looking in his sparkling brown eyes, not knowing who he was… who he could be? She felt that a sleep should come to her- calm and serene, blissful and deep. A sleeplike death – was she dying again? She thought nothing mattered now -she had him by her side. Death was welcome.
She thought nothing mattered. Now her music was slowly falling. A slow and soft melody of receding heartbeats she heard. He was by her side even now, standing a little far pouring water in a glass for her. She saw the last glimpses of him till he started fading- black dots, dark, and then blue and white. She wanted to see no more. She could not see more. Finally the sleep was coming, she was finally dying- in bliss as she thought she would kiss her forehead with his lips after she dies. What bliss it was- to die near your love, to have him kiss your forehead after you are lost in the long deep slumber to never return. Finally she could sleep in peace.