Saturday, October 30, 2010

cellos replace violins.

Some people are born stupid, some turn alcoholic, some kill for a living and some are cursed in matters of love...

So it didn't flinch me when he said,"You are incapable of being in a relationship". A realisation i had made long ago, a deception i allowed to grow. Why does it become inevitable to go through a hormonal trapeze. Like universe and algebra, relationships have never failed to befuddle me.

Today, my nerves swell up at the L word. Love, that is lost in course of longing. its funny how horribly predictable it turns out every time. You develop a funny cataract that only makes you see the oh-so-adorable things in him. You smile, he surrenders. You joke, he raves. Fingers curlup and he whispers, "As the wind takes us".

Wicked wind makes you chase the moon. You write poetry, he makes it into a song. You see geraniums in his eyes. he calls you his own garden of eden. Violins pour and you fall for them. Like 5- year olds running for the bubble-man. Chasing the evil soapy bubbles that make part you with reason. You think stupefying logic makes you clever. You are now in a trance and mistake it to be eternal. Oh hell, you're only 21 and its your time to skirt everything that's fun.

"Ofcourse we are different", you glorify it to your friends. Decked uplike a mermaid of the backhole. "Nothing couply about us", he says. You sgrin and blow him a kiss. You hold to this feeling like you would hold to a pretty dream- minutes before the alarm rings. On days you find it under the carpet. Heck, you've found it and thats all that matters. Everything is under control, "im okay, you're okay"

And then you loosen your grip and find it clinging to you like summer sweat. You panic. Enchantment has turned into ugly addiction. 'Your place or my place' becomes the only agenda of the day.

Fights by the day, flowers by the night. "Why do you think so much"? He shuts you up by the songs he enthusiastically makes for you. 'I should give us time', like a hopeless optimist you keep looking for love-which over over time turns into Uncle Scrooge's three ghosts. Thwarting your beliefs and righteousness before a final showdown with your conscience.

Tearsandmusic,musicandtears.You estimate your loss which invariably multiplies with each failed relationship. More abuses at the L word. Anger has subdued, but reason still evades. You can never put a finger on where things went wrong. How did you fail to notice, the disquieting exit of the lover in you. How do you hum the parting song without knowing the lyrics of it at all. All you feel is the sound of cellos around you and you know it-Cellos have replaced violins.

1 comment:

  1. Other than few hackneyed words which americans are prone to use this sad story of yourfailed relationship is fit to be incorporated in the coming best seller.
    I dont think you give any damn what great wise philosophers tell us repeatedly.
    But I am a bit amazed when you give priority to Violin to Cello or is it the otherway round ?