And Love Is Not A Victory March

Her fate was written the day she was named Ophelia.

The parting dialogue had always been difficult. The grief was just too unbearable at times. He liked to play with fire and she become the burnt victim of it every single time. But here’s the thing, when she found him it was more like as if she had found herself. And at times when it felt like he was drifting away, she thought she was too… from herself. 

In the midst of all the lying faces and betraying voices, she had found him. That’s how she knew him anyway. The voice and the face and that’s it. Had no idea as to how his skin felt like. She was absolutely clueless about his scent. Maybe she was unfortunate in a lot more ways than she had presumed. Why was he among all the ugly souls? She would wonder why since there was not even a hint of impurity in him. So she thought.

She fell in love with him while he was still trying to figure things out. He was too busy with those ugly souls. He called them friends. He let his guard down and called them friends. She fell in love with his grace. She knew she was non-existent in that sparkly world of his. It was glittery. Very much so and she was like a dull shooting star that was passing by so didn’t expect him to notice her anyway. Acceptance of circumstances became the only option. Sigh.

Oblivious to her simple world there he was among all the shiny objects with nothing but hollowness filled in them. So her association with words began. Letters to be specific. They were written in her mind and she had sworn that they'd never leave that sacred space. She wrote him letters of love, sorrow, triumphs, tragedy, loss and hope above all.

And then things changed. The pain became almost too much to bear. You see when you ache that much in love; it can actually become a life threatening disease. But how do you explain what love is to a cactus. Horrible analogy, I admit but yes he was like a cactus. Surviving under harsh times in unlikely situations while being oblivious to the pain of others. Also because anyone who tried to come close got hurt. At times really badly.

Time went by and she became a withering autumn leaf. Suffered a lot. And he went on and added one more lie to his life. People discussed the ring for months and he couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear. I wonder if that smile had broken into two halves had people not talked as much about yet another shiny object from his life? But that’s simply not the concern here. He married a lie perhaps because he was an illusion himself as well. And then whatever unfolded after was inevitable.

In this city so full of lights and sparkly objects quiet like himself, she had to succumb to her disease. The outer story is that she was found drowned in a bath tub but let’s not dig up the inner story because believe me when I say this...she had drowned and succumbed to her injuries a long time ago. But couldn't prove anything because it never showed in her blood test results so she decided to drown in her own sorrow.  

In that spiritless cold body was a heart that had just stopped beating. They couldn't revive it. They tried but they had to pronounce the time of death. That's how the heart stopped beating. That heart with all the unwritten stories of yester years. The ones of aching love and unfulfilled dreams.

And next to that cold lifeless body was the ring.

And walking away from it all…there he was.  

The widower. The cactus.