Dearest,
I am worried. I think Love is in trouble. People talk about domestic partnerships. People talk about sex. People talk about community living. People talk about a marriage of convenience. But no one talks about Love. What happened to Love?
Love was supposed to be here – between us – till eternity, wasn’t it?
Didn’t we believe that Love will be here forever? Like the Sun, and the Moon and the Spring?
The Winter you say? Yes. I remember how you love winter and I have always loved the sun rays filtering through the window and falling on your face.
Isn’t Love supposed to become more with every passing day? More Faithful. Far Deeper. More Passionate. More Sacred than everything. Become Love that makes us believe in magic, and trust the uncertain. Love that takes care of itself. Love that is visible through the creases around the eyes when hands can’t touch.
Will you Love me even when you can’t?
The other day, I saw Debalina Majumdar’s latest film “…ebang bewarish” (“…and the unclaimed”). It’s a story of two girls, Swapna and Sucheta, from a remote village in West Bengal who love each other. They commit suicide because their families and society refuse to accept their relationship. You know which part of their story felt the most hurtful? Their bodies lie unclaimed in the police morgue for several days. Later, those bodies are burnt with other unclaimed bodies…
What remains you wonder?
The memory of their last picture in which they lay next to each other. Poetic. Beautiful. Painful Real. Dead. Honestly, I thought this must have happened decades ago for who loves like that anymore? Yet, it happened only 2 years ago. February 21st, 2011.
I confirm that Love is in trouble. We are independent. We make enough money and lead very hectic lives. We have smart phones and the whole world at our fingertips. We are busy fighting for causes we believe in and writing our thoughts which we believe may change the world. Who has the time to work on Love? Tend to it, sacrifice for it?
Compromise, you say? Compromise it must be…
They committed suicide, darling.
Would I die for Love? For you?
I look up at the naked sky and remember how lonely I was when we were together. Especially when we were together. The immensity of it all overwhelmed me. The tending of Love. I felt unable. I knew I would fail. I wanted to cling and run away all at once.
I often wonder what if the object of Love changes in intervals? Could Love survive then? Did you know that Nietzsche calls it barbarism: To Love only one at the expense of so many? People seem to love gadgets, cars, countries, girlfriends, beds, orgasms. They all appear the same – swap one out for another. How can Love survive amidst all this?
I hear you laughing and nodding your head.
Perhaps, the question is: How do we Love? Did I hear you say, it could be how do we live?
Why, of course we live for the materialistic things while there are some who live for ideals… Higher ideals. Higher than the self, Higher than that stream of consciousness. Is Love one such ideal? I don’t know.
Right now, I am thinking about those two girls and I know one thing. Love is not for the weak. Love is not over rated. Love is the thing. The one important thing that sums up the meaning of existence.
But in this moment it is in trouble.
Me
