Yesternight, in a moment of partiality, I experienced another question of materialistic proportions – or so I would like to think of it as. “What is Love” was the succinct inquiry of my rationalized mind that rooted into further question marks. I did ask myself if I was capable of adorning such an abstract notion but all I could hear were the echoes of resonating rationality and logic. Had I ever been in Love, perhaps in the fleeting past? Do I not know how to Love, little less feel the very sensation of this intangible idea? When would it dawn on me, the true meaning of this universal feeling? Maybe never. Bluntly put, I’m not acquainted with Love and perhaps never will be. To me Love always has been particularized as a Blessing as opposed to a Procurement. Must I be afraid to submit to my own decisions – decisions that were paved so my suppressed judgments could wane out?
This was a moment where no “What ifs” bothered me & no “Buts” pestered my senses. I can not compromise with Bollywood driven melodramatic implications of Love. Nor can the common implication of its meaning suffice as an answer. In my head, even a Prince Charming can go rancid! What does Loving a Man insinuate? Can one confide in the bearings of the heart? Can I?