Love, what a wonderful feeling!!! No fear, no expectations... Love is only love and submission. What some one feels for one only she/he can feel. For others that love can be a chain or a bondage but for people in love it is only love. This is a piece where I may be at my low (for you all) but at my high (for me and my love). I am weak but I am strong here. While reading these like feel the words in a way as if these words are from you to your beloved. Then you all can feel the essence of these lines... Having dived deep into the retrospect, I figured out the mistakes I committed back then, when I profoundly glued to her eyes and cited the golden words of the cupid, “I Love You”, it was meant to last forever and sway in the air like an energy which has no termination no matter what changes takes place around the universe. I didn’t make any spurious promises or any kind of stipulations whatsoever, which people generally do as a result of their rapacious intentions or some macabre fear. Whatever I said to her I really mean that till today and will continue to do so. I am outrightly flummoxed where are those promises, commitments gone which were vowed to me. We are humans not GOD. We are entitled to commit mistakes but most importantly we should fetch a lesson out of it. The lesson I learnt from mine, took my personality by storm, there was an apparent resurrection of that puerile guy. And I don’t want to add the prefix “pure” to my love as it entirely depends on her and the almighty above. I don’t want to say like everybody says “my love is pure”, because for me it is not just about reciting, but it is about our action which speaks louder than words, whether it’s divine or not! But one thing I would definitely say it wasnt fake neither yesterday nor today. For sure I don’t want to present an affidavit for my love and dedication towards her. In the deepest core of my heart I know what it is. I don’t know whether I will get a chance or not but for sure I will continue to sustain hope till my last breath in this life or the afterlife even if I am afflicted with the curses or sorcery. Today my love for her is an amalgamated form of truth, honesty, loyalty, dedication and trust. I did mistakes in my past for which I repented heavily already and if it is yet not enough I am ready to suffer more knowing that at last a day will dawn when her heart would probably melt. I only wish to be under the aegis of her arms once again. Then only I can feel the ecstasy or the heaven. Yet again I will relentlessly relinquish myself in the sweet ambiance of her symphonic tunes, harmonic togetherness and mutual cognizance. “When love is ingenuously pious; even if subjected to insidious pains, acerbic remarks, sufferings, misgivings and distance, no matter for how long it is stretched to, the passing days would never be able to relent that silhouette of love &yearning alacrity of wanting her.” I am bewildered by the way she is choreographing my life and construing the present condition undoubtedly the choreography has indeed been very distressful. Beleaguered by the halo of loneliness, for sure she had ghastly afflicted me to repent for the sins which I never committed but it doesnt means that I am perfect, no doubt I did mistakes. I don’t know whether those sufferings are enough for my sins or not. Lately, she is being so frugal to condone me. Was I a slain or I am living now? Should I really ask this or keep mum? It was not me, who was me then. Was it the love which reincarnated from the tomb of the fiction or, was it a fool? Destiny didnt love me. It remained a fiction. Abnegated I was, Forgotten I will be, Presumed I am for what I did. I was a dreamer, dreamt all of my life. Though the dream I envisaged pertained to the distant mirage at the confluence of my belief and the vantage point of her pragmatic attitude. As fluidic as no marks behind the trail and no direction where to lead. A faint bare dull sycophant breeze could veer my way, to the fair of sordid solitary and the uneven diaspora, an ort of mischief. The wrath of the destiny is viable for the creators are defile. And, the pure love is made blurred. Being good, human is the disaster of this enticing era. And, the sinner is the winner. Literary Consultant - Nuzhat Nazneen
Posted on: Sat, 03 May 2014 11:18:11 +0000
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