Man, this hurts.....Collecting my thoughts while i get ready to pen this,while images of the past and convesations from yesterday keep flitting on and off . Thinking about the past and our dreams for the future, the little things said undone and the smaller memories unspoken.My facade of the non-chalant, independent dude broke when i talked to someone who used to be special today. Apparently both of us had "moved on" from a small relation and a very bitter ending; and i was thinking the changes that followed were for the best. I stopped dreaming about romance and concluded this stuff just aint for me. I was probaby built for other stuff and "NO GAL WAS GONNA SUCKER ME AGAIN!!". Five minutes into the conversation,and something was unnerving. I couldnt be the same independent dude i thought i was, and behaving more like a dodo. Not for the fact that she is an interesting conversationalist (she is not!); Just that, the old familiar rush of pleasure at hearing her voice swept over me and the residual sadness that nothing could be done still lingers. Five hours later, i still think about it.I wonder what prompted me to come outside my familiar cocoon of security and put myself open to hurt? Damn, a tactical error and im already reeling with the repurcussions. I suddenly realise, i havent forgotten about her and i think i should stop clinging to her. But how the heck do i do that?
They say that everyone rush in once and only fools dare rush in a second time. What is it about the wrong kind of relationships that attracts our attention? Why are unrequited love stories, the greatest ones of all times? Why do we adore tragic heroes, and why did'nt that shmuck Rhett Butler dump that conniving bimbo Scarlett'O'Hara much before the ending? Reams of newsprint and a billion dollars in literary advances just seem to be fuelling this frenzy. I am one of those exalted few that have brought this concept and paid through the nose for it. After a lifetime of Gone With the Winds and being brought up on a staple diet of Sooraj Bartajya, its hard not to romanticise this stuff.
Am i being cynical? Or have i made an opinion that is too inflexible? Whatever it is, im subjecting myself to a dichotomy that serves the purpose of befuddling me further. On one hand, i hate admitting to myself that people cant change..."We are what we are" (Estella, Great Expectations) and thus resigning to the idea of an incorrigible romantic always doomed to misery. On the other part, there is the cynical me, "enriched" by life's experiences and what i have chosen to learn from them, who refuses to buy anymore of this stuff.
Childhood is bliss, innocence is sanctimonious....What i wouldnt do to return back to that state, where we still lived in a perfect world and everything was simple.
Epilogue: But as Morpheus poses this dilemna to Neo, 'If you had the choice to return to the matrix, would you really want to? Knowing what you possess- the TRUTH!
Adios Amigos,
Tarun
