To Neha...
I was newly in love with a girl who was scared of the mirror.
A traveller in search for the true meaning of life, I never knew that life was waiting for me right at home.
She was married. And she was happily married. And not to me. But I couldn't regret that.
Her happiness was evident in the deep dimples on her cheeks that never showed signs of relenting. Her smile would come fast and suddenly, like the sudden bright rays of the sun peeking from behind heavy clouds, and dissipating all gloom. Her smile had that power of illuminating my existence, robbing me of all my despair and grief, and my senses too.
But she never really saw herself in the mirror. She could never understand what I saw in her. Every time she stood before that silvered glass, all she'd see was a thin and lanky girl, with nothing attractive whatsoever, no talents, no looks, nothing.
And I would gape in awe. Sometimes. At other times, I would burst out in anger.
How could she not see what she really was. A brave, beautiful and insightful woman. How easily frustrated she could make me with her denials about herself. And I would become angrier for I couldn't show her, what she really was, how I beheld her! How I wished I could let her see herself through my eyes. She would never believe that she was beautiful, that I honestly thought so. She didn't like being praised, she didn't like being told that she was the light of my life. But she knew I loved her and that's all she would ever accept from me.
The mystery of it all was that she loved me too. Almost as much as she loved her husband. I knew that. But still it was different. There was something spiritual, almost primal in our strange love story. She couldn't do without me, like I couldn't do without her. But there was a difference.
A stark difference in that, that we had never seen each other.
Were we just a figment of our each others' imaginations? Or did we really exist?
Even if we didn't, our love did. I know it did. It was written in every word uttered, in every word that spilled out from our hearts. It was there in the mornings when we found solace in each other. It was there in the outraged anger at the injustice towards the other. It was bright in the words we left for the world to see. It was there in how it was us or neither. It was there when we took every single stride together. Her excitement in my achievement, my happiness in hers. Her pride in how I would change the world and my secret pride in how she made the world beautiful. Our co-ordinated actions through out the day, missing the other madly. Our loved shined in every moment that we spent together and away from each other.
But I was a mere human in love with a Goddess, I had my moments of failings too, moments that tarnished the purity of our love. Moments of viciousness, of a murderous intent. Why didn't I know her first?!
And moments of weakness, when I turned away from her in my life. I didn't love any other as much, but I needed to be consoled, to heal when my love was with her husband. And I capitulated always, out of anger, bitterness and jealousy, and a want for what I didn't have. Missing her was a pain that made me too human. The thought of disappointing her, losing her was a raging fire within. And all impossible to bear!
But she was always there. In my mind, my heart, my soul. This strange world didn't exist without her.
But I could never have her. And not because she was in love with her husband. There was a much graver problem. An unscalable one. Us. What we were.
From Neha....
She was an ordinary girl; living in her own world. There was nothing special about her whatsoever.
She never cared about the mirror that reflected her thin and lanky figure. That glass failed to show her inner simplicity hidden inside her flesh. She knew that beauty cannot be seen ever. It is something to be felt; something to be experienced; the feeling of feeling special was the real beauty.
Her life revolved around her husband. She felt beautiful in his presence; he made her feel so. Nothing else mattered. For her, this was love; this was the only form of sacred love existed between two people not related to each other; until she received that letter from someone who was just a friend then. It was a letter that reflected the heart and soul of the writer. The words were simple; yet they touched her deep inside. She felt as if the writer was talking to her in person; each word came alive when she read further; each word was like a music playing all along; emotions played in her heart like ocean waves on a stormy night; like desert sand that flew in the air after an ostrich ran for oasis; so intense yet so soothing; she felt for the first time that she had met her inner self.
She was in love yet again; love that was spiritual and primal; love that made her complete in its own sense; yet the feeling of being complete inside made her feel incomplete outside; as she had never met her love. She didn’t know how her love looked like. But it didn’t matter; for she knew her inner self was much more beautiful than her. She was in love with someone else too; she realized this relationship was as sacred as the one with her husband; yet it was different. She was in love with another lady. Not for her physical beauty or inner strength; but for what she is. How well they knew each other; how well they understood each other; so far yet in each other’s heart; so strange yet so divine.
She needed her when she was very happy, she was her need when the world turned against her; she needed her when she felt weak after taking those attacks, she needed her when she needed her inner self. She felt happy at her achievements like they were hers, she felt sad when somebody hurt her; how she wanted to get back to those then. She felt jealous when her love turned to another lady; she wished her love understood she had certain duties; duties she had to fulfill; duties towards her husband. But those duties never made their bond weak; she was not weak; nor could she see her love becoming weak and going to someone else.
Her love was special and most beautiful; she was the one who made that thin and lanky girl feel special with her presence. She was the mirror that showed one’s inner self.
They could not have each other for what they were. But did it really matter? They were one; nobody could separate one’s inner self from anybody…
PS: G, this is not even close to what you wrote about us; so don't be disappointed after reading this..
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