How does it feel to love, and to be loved?
Today I woke up early — unusual, for someone who sleeps late — and went for a short, brisk walk. People were still half asleep, dreaming dazzlingly of the past and the future; others walked beside me, for various reasons — health, schedule, office, and a few more. I took some steady steps toward a secluded road, to find my solace. I am not very friendly with the crowd around me, but the horses of my mind gallop like nothing else when I am in my comfort zone.
The day was beautiful, before dawn. It took me a few seconds to realize what I was doing here, and in which direction I was leading myself. I checked my cell — the devil — and there was her last message, with smileys and a few words of love. And I drifted into a sea of thought: how far I have come, from a single word in life — love.
The earliest love I remember is all about mother. Then, in the mid-90s, television played an important role in the upbringing of all of us 90s-born kids — the love of Aladdin, Popeye, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, a few films I can recall, and a few discussions in school. All these years, I have been trying to decipher love in my own words, in the world of my own thoughts; and crossing every individual’s perception, I developed my own: love is selfless, love is responsible, love is not flawless — and all that other talk.
I have personally had two encounters with failed relationships, and every ending brought me more complex thoughts, and a fear of falling in love again. The fear of falling, and failing, again — sounds like a loser, doesn’t it? Yes, I sound like a loosely built architecture of the philosophy of failure and the fear of the future.
But have I done justice by saying only this? I certainly say no. I found myself in the grip of love once again — and far happier than ever before; but this time, practical, and sensible. Still, the mind plays games. I thought, for a second: do we love by thinking of its security? Its future? Its feasibility? A big no.
I checked my cell — it was nearing 6:30. I couldn’t quite understand what I had been wondering about love for the last hour. I closed my eyes and walked blindly on the road for a minute, only to find myself so insecure in my steps that I reopened my eyes in fear — to find myself alive. But it was thrilling, and fascinating. And then my mind shot out this analogy with life: some days are risky, and you take the risk of doing something you never thought you would; you were afraid of it, unknowing of its future. But things change when there are two people now, both in the same state — eyes closed, walking blindly, but holding each other’s hands this time. And this time, it wasn’t so scary — because we trust the other person.
Love is all about this. The time will come when you will fear, when you will be scared, when you will regret your decision — but have you ever noticed how far you have come with that love alone? You may call it walking blindly, but together — and trust is the key.
But how did I come to write this down? A few months ago, I was scared of love — or rather, scared of walking blindly, alone. But one day, I was so close to love that I put my faith and trust in it, and committed my love. And then I realized: it is not about walking alone, but walking together, with trust in each other. We may fight, we may lose hope — but remember how far we have come together, with that trust. That is how love comes into life, and flowers into happiness. It is all about trust — and a morning walk, to write this down.
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