Tuesday, August 12, 2014

whisper in my ear the name...

I get to talk about sex a lot, but whenever the topic of love comes up I feel I have no entitlement to talk about it. After all in last five years or so I have been in love too many times. Sometimes I lose count and hence feel less legitimate to talk about it. Legitimacy, a strange word, which decides on the basis of average how we individually should behave. Granted, of all the loves that I felt, many were infatuations, but that does not discount my legitimacy to talk about it. As I did experience love, this truth came to me last night in a very strange still mundane way. And hence I sit down to write about my love, fragmented stories from this period have been told to so many but I never felt I have the right to talk about love. But today I know I do. I am listening to a song, a love song, written a century back, there is something magical in the voice and the instruments, as it broke open the darkness in me and the pure flow of joy makes me smile, though he is not with me, and we have no intention of getting together. But still love existed and that is the joy. The song “whisper, tell me in my ears the name that plays in your soul” took me back to a small room, with just one bed and a desk, and that damp feeling. It was his room in his residence, it took me back to the smell and feel of that room, and took me back to that evening when we two first touched each other. Our lips trembled in joy and in fear, fingers intertwined, and heart racing. We both made love to other people before, but in that moment everything was new, the pain, the longing, and the fact that finally we were there, “tell me, pour in my ears the name that fills your soul”.
I do not know why am I writing this today, not to validate, not to justify and not to prove, I just felt, it is a story worth telling. Everything in our love actually started with a song, his first text to me, after talking online and receiving my one sided texts for a long one year, was a song. That evening in November, looking at the setting sun, I sent him a text, a line from an old love song “I will not tie you with my charm…” and after couple of minutes the magic happened, he replied, from the same song “let me tie you with my love”. I was 29 he 25, but the story seems so juvenile. Then we met, and love happened so naturally. Though he always told me my driving to his place at the middle of the night on his birthday, with a small cupcake, and forgetting to get a matchbox and hence calling him to ask if he has one as I pretended to be a forgetful new smoker did the magic. On that cold January night we fell in love.
We were different, we still are, very, and we fought. He would hardly show his emotions, and it was left to me to know what he felt by looking at his eyes, ah! Those dark-deep eyes! I did read his emotions every time. We found a song for us, our love and our fights, once again an old one “I lose you every moment, oh my love! To find you anew”. I remember our trip together to the forest of North Bengal, in the train we wanted to share a seat, but could not because other people were there before us. We looked at each other and listened “I lose you my love every moment, to find you anew” the whole way. That trip was magical, the walks we took by the river on a spring full moon night, the cold air, and our walks without a single spoken word, but sharing thousand thoughts.
Then I remember the day we broke up, or may be the day before, we two separated by thousands of miles, and millions of misunderstandings and rage and anger. I was listening to a song, “you have me my love but still fear to lose” and I had to call him at the middle of his work day, just to tell him about the song, and then to break up. He did not fight, as he would never show emotions, and in a long time I refused to read his emotion, after all those dark deep eyes were not in front of me.

Several years have passed since we broke up, we have a very strange and bitter relationship since then. When you are so close and then the closeness is not there, perhaps you do not want anything else. We both have moved on, to me he has come back several times as a thought, a desperation to have him back, an anger, dismissal. For him I have always been a rage, for not reading his emotions that night we broke up perhaps. But how strange it is, after so many years, our love came back to me through a song, “tell me, and whisper in my ears the name that resonates in you”. It came back as calmness, as joy and as an understanding, yes I know what love means. I was in love and I was loved. 

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