A year on, still pining for the mist of love
I was never inclined to snap the long, blessed relationship. My conviction even defied her incredible lies. I loved her passionately, beyond me. And, she knew it well. Despite this bonding, she unapologetically called it a day. The thread of love ripped apart, the bond crumbled.
You may have been struck by movie scripts. Or heard from friends how life takes a turn overnight, in a twinkling. But to face it or even visualise the circumstances I passed through could be bone chilling. And, yet it remains a chilling fact. Love bursts like a bubble and the reasons are queer.
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Our relationship did not begin ominously, nor was there any premonition of a disaster. I still recall how she chose to celebrate her birthday with her batch of MBA grads. It was the 10th of February this year. She vowed it would be her last blast with her friends. We had pledged to get hitched- of course with the blessings and consent of our families. For the last time, she had to join her friends. But who could have imagined the moment would trigger the collapse of a relationship nourished with such care? No exchanges and no conversations from there on. She had been detected with her lies. When I exposed her, she did not have the scope to scurry for cover. No wonder, she responded testily. Also, she cold shouldered my efforts for conciliation.
She merrily forgot it was I who ushered her into the world of aspiration. Bestowing all love and affection, I was determined to make her life a success. Her father could gloss over her flaws. But she failed to glimpse any such streak of kindness in me.
Before severing the ties, she must have grasped the importance of standing for the truth. Even today, I’m wondering how come in a passionate relationship, spanning close to four years where marriage just needed a customary sanction, love birds forget the numerous emotional sleepless nights, the loaded intimacies, the unlimited fun and love, the powerful pep talks for her successful career and the moral and financial support year after year to make her happy with in.
I can never forget all those moments- not at all even in my future too. Her beckoning- “Baba listen” still reverberates loud. The image of a chaste girl seeking my approval whether clad in a saree or mini-skirt, startling me with her demeanour and smearing sindoor on her forehead in front of Lord Jagarnnath at Puri. How could she cast away all such thoughts?
“Sequences may lie
Love never lies
The heart often sighs
A relationship never dies”
If she reads between the lines, she could realise how heartbroken the scene is. Love can strike you later, the bug can bite you twice or thrice through your life. But first love is never recreated. There is no déjà vu or encore. Your first love connects with the instincts and choices. It’s so mutual and reciprocal. We both had the privilege, being in the league of debut love, a departure from the clutter of love stories of the times. True love kindles and smoulders in the hearts, the affection it spawns has no parallel. Everything else rests on compulsions or adjustments. Choice is always yours, it’s your life, take guard before it spins away, leaving you forlorn and shattered.
Love is a mystique- it never decays. It’s as fresh as the first glance darted at your lover. You know, I can vouch for it, I could go to any extent to save this unthinkable bonding. I was never detached from her, in fact, I tendered apologies to her parents if my words ever bruised them. The pangs of separation grew intolerable for me. But at the end, you realise what has been fashioned can’t be undone. Nature has her own payback rules. And, to resign to the will of the Almighty is the best panacea.
Special Note: She must get to understand the sacrifices done at each end to make a love life successful in a life time. Love is a treasured feeling- any attempt to fiddle or play with such a pure emotion is sacrilege of the soul. My doors are ajar to welcome her. To remind her unapologetically, I have started befriending a girl named Akankshya Mohapatra. If not she, at lease her namesake to keep the flame burning.