Let Me Tell You About Love

Nobody probably expects me to write about a topic as quizzical as love. Somehow, this side of life has still been unexplored by me. Do not get me wrong, I have tried making the sail. I have wet my feet in shallow waters and felt the warm sand below but never had the strength to sail away. Somehow, the depth was too overwhelming, and I always stepped back thinking maybe one day, I will have the strength to go farther.

Nothing usual can invoke me to write about a subject as convoluted as love. No movie, no mushy quotes, not even people themselves.

But the only things on this wondrous planet that can shake my iron heart and loosen the chains a little, are words. And tonight one of my closest friends (you know who you are) introduced me to a writer whose words had such a heavy impact on me, that I was forced to write about it.

Gazillions of wordsmiths, poets and philosophers tried to define love. They tried to capture it, encapsulate it in words, take it in their palm and examine it under the sun, spent nights brooding over it. But they couldn’t succeed.
And there I am, merely a young solemn writer, what can I possibly tell about love? But for my mind’s sake, I shall try.

But first, I present to you Jonathan Safran Foer, the man whose words have made me their captive tonight. I spent hours sifting through his quotations, gasped and shrieked, welled up and shook, got overwhelmed and read it all over again.

Foer says,

“I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can’t tell fast enough, the ears that aren’t big enough, the eyes that can’t take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.”
Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

“I hope that one day you will have the experience of doing something you do not understand for someone you love.”
Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

The more you love someone,” he came to think, the harder it is to tell them.”
-― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

“We had everything to say to each other, but no ways to say it”
Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

 

and my favorite,

“Being with him made my brain quiet. I didn’t have to invent a thing.”
Jonathan Safran Foer

Do you feel it too? The sheer magnificence of these words? Woven so wisely they make you feel so much altogether, isn’t it? How can I possibly surpass this brilliance?

But love I reckon, is more than just two people sharing their time with each other. It’s much more than young love making you bubble with excitement. It is definitely much more than keeping your lover’s picture with you.
If all these things could qualify as love, then we probably wouldn’t have so many broken hearts today.

It is about finding peace. It is about finding placidity. It is about having someone to come home to. It is about growing and spoiling each other at the same time. It is about opening yourself up. And the scariest part, it is about being vulnerable.

It is about courage, definitely courage. Courage to dive deep within someone’s mind. The part they usually keep locked. To scroll through their darkness and still find light and making sure they see it too.

To tread the deep waters yet always hold on. To face the waves, together. To tame the storm, together. To fight the winds, together. And lastly, to watch the sun set, together.

But how many brave-hearts has this world ever produced?

Happy Valentine’s Day love-birds.

Love always,
Your Blogger.

Dream

My dreams are weird films,
Of images wide and clear,
With messages hard to decipher,
Like it happened last night.

*

It shows me not planets but people,
Moments of life I’d like to be extraordinary,
Things I’d wish they would happen,
And it does this with such skilled fingers,
That I wake up sour and bitter.

*

It’s amazing that last night,
How precise my dream was,
Deprived of all the flaws,
Each event synchronized,
With my intense desires.

*

The words were precise,
Like I wanted them to be,
Which you possibly couldn’t see,
Because I kept them inside.

*

And for the first time I felt,
Dreams were better than reality,
But I hate them for their perfection,
And for plundering the inside of me.

Note: This actually happened, for real. I wish I could describe you how wonderful it was. And since it was such a perfect dream I could not find an equally perfect picture. And the words I wrote are the mere projection of how I felt.