Love Traps – 3

When you talk about life, you don’t take things logically, with rationales and reasons and alibis. You take what comes to you, whatever it might be. You move on with un-fought battles, unheard stories and un-thought persons and un-spoken phases. You just move on. Because there is no reason to stop over, even to mull over what went wrong and when. And there is no reason to move either, but moving is always better, preferable since we are taught that way, we are brought up that way. Every fight doesn’t necessarily teach you something, some fights are purposeless, just for the sake of passing time.

Similarly, every relation is not a relation of life, of eternity; some are there just to kill time.

“The moment you stop to think over them, you are stuck, smitten and you are in love – the un-purposeful love that only drowns you deeper.”

“What you do then?” she asked me.

“Move on.”

“Where?” she pierced into my eyes and looked intently as if to retain everything that we had with the sheer inertia of her stare.

I looked back, thought a while and moved my gaze away. One more moment and the whole story would have repeated once again. Dying once is okay, dying daily is what is really painful. I wanted to inflict no pain to her.

“That is life. A journey, togetherness, a moment and an eternity, all in one, one in all, everything is life.”

“So then what is love?” she was after her own life, doubting everything that had ever happened to her, or would ever happen to her.

“A concept.” I looked past her, through the window, at the moon struggling to show up to me against the dense black clouds.

“Isn’t life a concept too?”

Moon struggled hard, but the clouds were immense in expanse and strength. One tiny star blinked beside the scene, scared of the clouds, looking on to me for help. The struggling moon didn’t give it any courage, it incited only pity. A fight that could have been avoided but it was being fought. For what? … I stretched my hands but couldn’t reach it.

“You can’t reach to them this way.”

“I know,” I turned my eyes to her, “but isn’t it a concept too? That those stars are only a meter away from you.” I faced her. “A theory. An allusion. Abstract.”

“You mean, love is abstract.”

“Why? Is it not?”

“You know, people used to ask me…all my friends did…the closest ones even…what I had in mind about the person I would marry…I never knew it…never thought of it…see…I have some values…and I wouldn’t go against my parents…and their choice…and…so…” she crisscrossed her fingers against the iron railings on the window and fumbled to gather strength.

I put my hands on hers.

“…so I never thought of it…it might break my image…and if I do…I would break my parent’s hearts.”

One worthwhile fight was discarded. And a useless one went on in the sky. The Moon was still under the shed of mighty and bulky clouds, trying to transpire through them, but only feeble light could spread.

“Choices.” I uttered unconsciously.

“What?”

“Choices make things what they are. They make or break the future, the imagery, the life.”

She moved her hands from beneath mine and entwined them together, fingers upon fingers, life between life, glued with sweat and love. A ring in the middle finger of her right hand pleaded to be released. But, neither sweat nor love did hear any scream, busy in embrace.

“You mean life is like a game of ‘snake-and-ladder’. And so is love?…Part luck, part toil.”

“No. Love is game of dice. All luck, no toil.” I said stretching my fingers to touch her. But she was far, far…far away of my reach.

Perspiring, I woke up. She was no where. I switched off the wailing fan and went to the window. The moon was free of blemishes, shining intently with a star blinking beside it, praising and longing and protecting its beauty from all external threats.

I was dreaming. A dream of bleak ends. That’s love.

Few hours ago we stared at the moon together, helped ourselves, and now we both were alone: I here, she there.