Love always evaded me. I understood the biology but the chemistry was esoteric. Not that i was lovelorn. I simply refused to reciprocate love. I have always thought of love as a weakness which tramples self respect. How could you love someone more than yourself! To me, love was suffering; nothing more, nothing less.
Moira and Peace were madly in love. Only that they did not flaunt it, lest Moira should be in trouble. I was the common friend and i was the facilitator. I accompanied them to the movie,the nearby eatery, the mall, the beach.............
..........Playing gooseberry did not help; i was still uncertain about love.The more i legitimed their relationship, the more whimsical i grew. period.
One day i was called upon to accompany them. The boy or the girl (i do not remember which) tempted me with a treat. This time i decided to fake a headache. I exited my den (read deptt.), tensed up my facial muscles and made a straight face. I saw them coming, holding hands (almost), whispering sweet nothings and waving at me.
I decided against faking that headache.....
Monday, February 8, 2010
confessions of a cynic
Talking of happiness, i had a 'clear' vision. To be happy,one had to belong to the top rung of the class, needed to have 672 friends, a couple of sophisticated hobbies, assets worth millions if not billions and one dashing,smart,loyal-as-a-dog boyfriend. I was not happy. I had none and so did 'Key'.
Key was short and stout. He was swarthy and had muscular footballer legs. His salt and pepper curls fell on his eyes and were sometimes pulled back into a ponytail. His hands were the ones that interested me. They could work wonders. I would come back to that later.
Key was my friend but i hated being spotted with him. So did everyone. He was intelligent, creative and unaffected but his best friend called him an asshole, no less. It was plain and tacit-he was not happy.
After having avoided his phone calls for, say, three months, I received his call one evening and was greeted with a beautiful composition, an original soft rock.
Only happy hands coupled with a happy heart could have created that magic.......
Key was short and stout. He was swarthy and had muscular footballer legs. His salt and pepper curls fell on his eyes and were sometimes pulled back into a ponytail. His hands were the ones that interested me. They could work wonders. I would come back to that later.
Key was my friend but i hated being spotted with him. So did everyone. He was intelligent, creative and unaffected but his best friend called him an asshole, no less. It was plain and tacit-he was not happy.
After having avoided his phone calls for, say, three months, I received his call one evening and was greeted with a beautiful composition, an original soft rock.
Only happy hands coupled with a happy heart could have created that magic.......
confessions of a cynic
Disclaimer: This column is written to commemorate people i admire. This is an inspired work with some parts purely fictional.
Throughout my life i had just one endeavour-to be right. i saw a clear distinction between virtue and vile. This distinction was unsurmountable, shaped by years of experimentation, theology and classroom moral science. The right and the wrong could not overlap- people were either right or wrong,noth both.
Steel was a classmate.He was so articulate that he could even move the most intransigent person 'effortlessly'. Rarely did he show any dissent and even then the assault was sugar-coated. The enemy relented 'effortlessly'. He was certainly 'right'. I admired Steel but many people abhorred the power he exerted. Friends tried to dissuade me and it was only the beginning.
Once Steel told me why he would not ever work in the oil and gas sector. A month later, a big shot petroleum company visited the campus offering a lot of dough. I saw Steel waiting for the interview, fingers crossed. I smiled. He was certainly 'wrong'.
Steel ran a campus publication which i categorically avoided reading. 'No more Steel', i thought. Somebody once stuffed an edition into my bag and i was left with no choice.Flipping through the pages, i saw, an interview with one of India's biggest champions of literacy, mindblowing book reviews, awe -inspiring human-interest stories and some original literary works of the campus residents.
One word lingered in the air: dedication
I could not figure out what was right in me.......
Throughout my life i had just one endeavour-to be right. i saw a clear distinction between virtue and vile. This distinction was unsurmountable, shaped by years of experimentation, theology and classroom moral science. The right and the wrong could not overlap- people were either right or wrong,noth both.
Steel was a classmate.He was so articulate that he could even move the most intransigent person 'effortlessly'. Rarely did he show any dissent and even then the assault was sugar-coated. The enemy relented 'effortlessly'. He was certainly 'right'. I admired Steel but many people abhorred the power he exerted. Friends tried to dissuade me and it was only the beginning.
Once Steel told me why he would not ever work in the oil and gas sector. A month later, a big shot petroleum company visited the campus offering a lot of dough. I saw Steel waiting for the interview, fingers crossed. I smiled. He was certainly 'wrong'.
Steel ran a campus publication which i categorically avoided reading. 'No more Steel', i thought. Somebody once stuffed an edition into my bag and i was left with no choice.Flipping through the pages, i saw, an interview with one of India's biggest champions of literacy, mindblowing book reviews, awe -inspiring human-interest stories and some original literary works of the campus residents.
One word lingered in the air: dedication
I could not figure out what was right in me.......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)