Love Revisited

Apparently it makes the world go round. And it is also known to be the reason for the creation of some of the greatest poetry, the most enthralling novels and clearly, the most unbelievable circumstances.

"The first time I met her, I had just stepped out of the bathroom. And no, I was not in a bath towel because I wasn't taking a bath."

"He is my best friend. I do not make friends easily. It takes me a long time. He is my best friend."

"You know this person. You meet her everyday. You look at her. And one fine day, you are so overwhelmed by affection for her that you just want to shout out loud."

"I want to be Nataraj and dance the dance of love for you."
" It was just her, at the water dispenser, choking over a glass of water."

"You cannot fall in love anymore. It just about happens to be the most illogical thing. The longer it takes for the lightening to strike, the more probable it gets that it never will."

Let me catch my breath!

Well then, I wish I knew. But I do not and cannot pretend to either. And what is more, I wonder but cannot get it for the life of me, how some people are always in it or surrounded by it while others, like me, walk past completely oblivious and blissfully ignorant.

I do not also get how easy it is to sever ties so easily these days.

"We are calling it quits. We'd not be doing this unless absolutely necessary."

"After 30 years of marriage, I can safely say that I want out."

"You have to compromise. You cannot compromise. You'll have a lot of trouble."

"There are the good things and the bad. You learn to live with the bad things because you cannot do without the good ones."

Having explored these seemingly deep sentences, and having nodded in perfect agreement, I have to confess that I am as near understanding any of it as I am of the inscriptions on the Egyptian pyramids. Not that I have not tried. Only that the truth eludes me. And just as I look around me at all the jolly, happy faces, skipping and making themsleves busy over the many cares of that inexplicable state, I assume a stance of quiet tolerance and smile and laugh out of instinct more than feeling, on what Byron wrote about and Shakespeare so greatly immortalized.