'll tell you what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter.’
-Charles Dickens
Love’s glory demeans you, its disgrace glorifies you. Its futility makes you worthwhile, it’s worthiness makes you feel futile. Its truth falsifies you at the same time; its naked deceit purifies your whole existence. Such is the paradox of love! When in love, we tend to die and take birth every moment. The pain takes over your existence and somehow, we start romancing with it. One can talk about the affair to oneself endless time, yet the story is never complete.
I always felt that there are different levels of being do exist at the same time. That may be the reason why one cannot understand the person existing at different level. We completely ignore other’s point of view rejecting it altogether. When in love, you exist in different levels at the same time. Your one level cannot understand other level and you keep shuffling between these levels. The magnificence of the whole world seems unworthy of pondering over when we look through the myopic lenses of love.
Whenever I went back to the roads of love a lot travelled, I found the trails of events which followed each other, there was lot of disconnect … somehow my life still found its worth being in those connects and disconnects. There are unending times, I can talk to myself about those said and unsaid words, relieve the pain, enjoy the agony and perhaps relive the sheer joy. And no matter where I went, I lived around that one axis. Seems no matter what I do to run away from it, my steps are always backward towards that point. I could never exactly find out whether I was tied down at waist to that certain point by some invisible rope that my steps are moving in the air at the same place or it was the memory lane which followed me to the long way. Perhaps I could never un-carry that baggage inside my heart and soul. Perhaps it’s matter of time and intensity of one’s experiences in past and present.
