Dear heart I am sorry

I know I have been foolish. I was selfish. Several times, I took you for granted. Today I would want to say sorry for everything I did or did not do that made you hurt.

I let down my guard easily and let the outsiders toy with you freely. I would have listened to my mind, yet I was not too wise then. I let them misuse your mildness and let them keep you hostage. I would have rescued you. But I was too blind then. I would have realized that it was torture, when it felt like it was acceptable in love. Dear heart, I am sorry.

I tried to imprison you in social conventions. I did not understand the gravity of the most innocent dreams you nurtured, nor did I take seriously the thoughts that triggered me to do the impossible. Instead of going by with what you preached, I took the safer way of listening to the mind more. I ignored you when you said I was strong enough to walk out of my comfort zones. Instead, I decided to take the easy way. I was deaf to your craving for adventure. Instead, I kept doing the same thing over and again. By doing so, I not only deprived you of the chance to soar high with jubilant feelings, but also I let myself get used to the sameness of life when I had every means to change it the way I want. Dear heart, I am sorry.

Too often I underrated your judgment and did not let myself trust your choices. I gave too much for rationale and thereby forgetting the simple truth that the most valuable things in life are the choices that were made with the heart wide open. I thought your pick was not good enough. Too often, I questioned your choices when I failed to see reason in it. When everything turned out perfectly, suddenly it dawned to me that this is why you led me through that route. So, today, I know better. Dear heart, I am sorry.

I have ignored your voice when you tried to alert me on a coming danger. I thought your voice was a sign that says I am going mad. I got scared in the vicinity of people who tried to talk to you directly. I knew you liked the sensation of it. Yet, I feared they were trespassing of my emotional boundaries. I did not know then that you were strong enough to be broken several times to emerge in one piece. I feared cynicism would violate you, a heavy dose of which would leave you blind to the romantics forever. I know today that you were much more than that. Dear heart, I am sorry.

I let you dictate me poetry, the only time you get autonomy over myself. I would not mind being led by you, for I know in most cases, you can hardly go wrong.  Dear heart, thank you for remaining unbroken.

The recipe of love

Who said Valentine’s day is all about love? Must be a marketing conceptualizer who does not have time to spend with his wife. Contrary  to the popular misconception, Valentine’s is the day on which  love sells for the highest price  when there are fools rich enough to buy any rubbish  wrapped in red. Wouldn't a rose smell the same on any other day? Don’t snow-globes produce music? Do chocolates taste sweeter when it is Valentine’s?

The truth is that, love is not flooding the roadways with red lights and snaring the trees with red polythene hearts, nor was St. Valentine a big marketer who foresaw that his noble initiative would be twisted into a lucrative business. Who would have thought, what brought him his sainthood would become a money tree!

Undoubtedly, there is nothing wrong with celebrating love; but the question remains as to whether there is real love to celebrate. Most of the victims of marketization of love are none other than schoolchildren who attend mass tuition classes.  Their version of love is as as vibrant as their love for color. For them, fluffy teddy bears matter. Coffee bar is another name for paradise. Chocolate hearts may not fill their tummy, yet it will satisfy their hearts. Seeing these items of temptation on shop windows one might get the impression that a boyfriend or girl friend is necessary to indulge in such treats. Yet, their definition of love is far from its real meaning.

Roses wither with time. Care bears stop caring and chocolates expire. It is only real love that lasts forever. Be it the love shared between two lovers, two friends or even among family members , it needs compassion, care and commitment to make it last forever.

You need not have calendar day circled with a heart to share your love. You have 365 days and nights to express it. Valentine’s Day might serve as a good reminder for anyone who thinks he/she is too busy to keep in touch with those who are dear and near to him/her. Yet, love does not have deadlines. It does not mean you can love a person one day and hate him/her for the rest of the year.

Love is cozy without soft toys, sweet enough without chocolates and aromatic without expensive bouquets of roses. It does not burn holes in one’s pocket- a mere note, a smile, gesture, touch or a hug will express affection that cannot be valued in rupees. Love is rich. Those who tried making Valentine’s Day a price-tag day for love only made it cheap.

Dear Diary,

Monday

Each one’s parameters of pain are defined by the amount of trouble one has to endure. It it easier for someone who has lived all his or her life in heaven to call the earth, hell for the contrasting comfort levels one finds here. Depression does not mean having a weak heart and seeking help is not an attack on one’s pride. Bravery does not necessarily mean living-trouble free; it means, keeping your balance when your boat is rocking in a storm, and placing your trust in the hand that is extended to grab yours in the hour of need.

Tuesday

Freedom fighters are not only the ones who are good at fencing and crowd-raising. With or without arm power, there is a fighter within every individual; whether they fight for freedom is another matter. Rulers will come and go. Yet, the essentials of freedom may remain the same. Too often we have been too complacent to go without a voice in many occasions. We have been satisfied with the role of spectators when we ought to have been the front-row actors. No wonder, the world is changing and the people are complaining that it was not the change they wanted.

Wednesday

I will sit with you on a rainy evening over a hot chocolate, and listen with enthusiasm to the list of girls who turned you down. I will let you talk about them at the usual ranting speed with the words that need a lot of censoring. You will eventually slow down to breathe and look with an unspoken apology. I will try to make you realize that, no girl is obliged to say yes to your proposals just because you have the looks, brains and the dough. Every girl has a right to say ‘No’ without giving reasons, and expects that ‘No’ to be counted likewise. You will call me a feminist and walk away into the setting sun only to call me later to say sorry for behaving like kid-why similes? - you are a kid!

  

Thursday

Forgetfulness is a blessing in disguise. Whatever the experts say, I can’t imagine how to live in a world where everyone remembers everyone’s cruelties and their life’s mission is to take revenge. All hail those who forget!

Friday

My story has you in its diction. There are corridors filled with your presence and a wardrobe that has locked your perfume in. There is your half-finished coffee cup by the bedside and the papers exactly how you left. There is a story without an ending; a climax with its hero missing. Memories hurt less when they are written.

Saturday

I sniff fakeness when I confront it. Don’t say you care, when your definition of care is talking behind my back. Don’t smile when you are a back-stabber and don’t ask me questions I am not obliged to answer. I do not need to be fake to be popular. Hypocrisy may be your way of life, but not mine!

Sunday

Yellow rice, seeni sambol and papadam will make you feel glad to be alive. To complete the scene, a mug of vanilla ice-cream sprinkled with milo! Take me to paradise,  I will still come home in time to have my lunch!