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"He was all I ever wanted, my dreams had come true. He moved in with me, into my apartment and we were together at last. I was living a fairytale love story. But, yet I wasn't happy. Something was lacking."
“He was all I ever wanted, my dreams had come true. He moved in with me, into my apartment and we were together at last. I was living a fairytale love story. But, yet I wasn’t happy. Something was lacking.”
How does it feel to desperately wait for something that takes a lifetime to arrive and when it eventually comes, you find that you don’t want it anymore.
Something that meant the world to you is now not even worth a second thought. I chased after the idea of love like some crazy fool being moony-eyed about teddy bears and stuffed hearts.
Love meant daydreaming, singing love songs and fascinating about an image that I thought was more than human. He was nineteen and looked like some kind of ‘Greek God’ who was born on earth just for me to love and be loved.
There were butterflies in my stomach each time I saw him, and I wondered if he felt the same for me. All day long I would fascinate about talking to him, about the fun times we would spend together, how he would play with my hair and look into my eyes and swear love to me. Oh, how happy we would be arm in arm singing songs.
In all my innocence, I had associated the word ‘happiness’ with an image which I built up of him not knowing that nothing on earth was ever going to make me happy again, not even him, for he was ‘he’ and not the image of the ‘he’ that I thought him to be.
My mind was always so preoccupied with his thoughts that I wasn’t able to concentrate on anything properly. My studies were going to the dogs, I was losing friends. They started to find me boring and withdrawn most of the time. I was messing up everything, which normally I wouldn’t have if this love bug kind of thing hadn’t bitten me. But now that it had, I was making these silly mistakes that drove everyone insane around me.
It’s only now that I understand why it’s called puppy love because a person becomes more like an adorably silly puppy, always wanting to be cuddled and made much of. I was fifteen then and the chemical imbalances of my hormones were playing havoc within me making me imagine I was in love.
When I look back, I can see how stupid I was acting and how difficult it must have been for my family to deal with me. I wanted him to be mine and the fact that my family would never agree, made them my enemies, I became irritable and snapped at them for every little thing they said. The feeling of being unloved in my own home started to grow into a wild creeper once the seed of infatuation had taken root and the want of him made me desperate for an escape.
The only escape I could think of was him, he was the man of my dreams my prince charming who was going to rescue me from the shackles of obligations, that chained me down to the castle of relationships. But, it never happened.
I met him in the supermarket the other day.
Wait a minute, what did he say, Let me guess.
“Hey Hi, you’re Bella right I’m your Prince Charming.” Creating a comic effect, Veronica put on an exceptionally formal accent with a base voice, while extending her right hand towards Bella. She romantically looked into her eyes and said, “Would you marry me?”
“Not so very charming at all,” Bella laughed.
It’s been like ten years now since I last saw him. But something did spark ten years back.
“So tell me then, what exactly happened.” Curiously asked Veronica.
We met at a book fair, he recognized me at once and we hugged so tight. He said, he missed me dearly and offered to take me on a date. I agreed, we went on a date. After dinner, he proposed and we kissed to seal our love with a long meaningful kiss. Everything seemed so perfect, like it was happening at the right time.
He was all I ever wanted, my dreams had come true. He moved in with me, into my apartment and we were together at last. I was living a fairytale love story But, yet I wasn’t happy. Something was lacking, something was not there, it was all very incomplete with an empty feeling that lingered.
But, then things started to unfold, as I saw that ‘he’ was not the one I had thought him to be. He had some awfully annoying ways. His ideologies were so orthodox and fascist. He was everything I was not. We started to regularly have arguments about the not so very significant things in life and he started to show his dumps.
It became a kind of an understanding between us that I was the one who had to apologize after each quarrel. Not talking for days was cool and made no difference to him. Our relationship was draining me, both emotionally and physically.
I lay sick in bed engulfed with strong depression while he lived his life to the fullest.
Was this the man I had fallen for? I asked my therapist. “Maybe not”, he said.
You were in love with the image you had painted of him on the canvas of your mind.
My therapist was right, I was still searching for that image of the ‘Greek God’ I loved and not some human with all his shortcomings. The fact was, I never really loved him, I was living a loveless relationship that was not working out for both of us. He wondered what was wrong with me and I couldn’t make him see reason. We were not so much a pair anymore.
I’m still very much in love with the image of him and the embers of that love still glow in the secret chambers of my heart, but I also realized that nothing on earth was going to make me love him.
It would have been mean of me if I didn’t set him free from a dying relationship.
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I recommend reading Manjiri Indurkar's Origami Aai alongside her memoir to have a fulfilling and enriching experience of telling one's story with grace.
It’s All In Your Head, M famed author Manjiri Indurkar’s debut poetry collection, Origami Aai, is independent and yet an extension of her memoir in which she speaks with utmost grace about all forms of abuses that she has survived. In this book of intriguing and evocative poems, the poet weaves words to form images of the everyday life of her middle-class family, love found and lost, trauma, and healing.
The collection is divided into four segments, beginning with the family, slowly moving towards the world, and finally colliding them together.
We aren’t in mourning, but we are creatures of habit.
So we talk of each one who died of drowning,
and I listen to her stories with the patience
of a chronicler.
– Funereal Stories
Homemakers or as we often call them, 'housewives' are IMO the most underestimated and disrespected of women. Time this changed.
I am so glad to write about this as homemakers were and till are the most undervalued and underestimated.
Having grown up in Indian society, I have witnessed people disrespecting homemakers by delivering various comments like, “saara din ghar par to hoti ho karti kya ho” (being at home what do you do full day), “housewives ke pass to bahut time hota hai” (housewives have a lot of time), “subah kaam hota hai fir to free hi free saara din” (you have work in the morning and then you are free the whole day).
I am a working woman and I confess that I can go to work because earlier my mother and now my mother-in-law share responsibilities with me. People feel the work of a homemaker is easy but honestly, it’s not. I see my mother-in-law waking up at 6 am and working non-stop till night. In fact, I would say the life of some working individuals are much more sorted and simple than that of a homemaker.
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