Love Journey

The beginning

‘It is difficult to explain love. It is difficult to tell extreme happiness and pleasure of love. It is a feeling that has been expressed by many—by legends, by scribes, by pious, by philosophers, by artists and also by intellectuals—in many forms. In words, in music, in art and in every other medium possible.

Words has always eulogize Love; Music adds happiness to it; and Art adorns it further. And yet words are not enough; music seems less in defining love; art and other forms seems less in expressing this lofty emotion. Then how love can be express entirely? Well, It can be comprehend only by feeling it.

But what would you do when you don’t have anyone to love or anyone to love you back?

Friends, remember God at that time, cause we are not alone he is always there to love us. There is some supreme power, some nature that surrounds all of us, even those who don’t believe in it’
It may sound like a Spiritual sermon but this was my theory on love.

And purpose of my show at 105mghz was to deviate lovesick people from their path of pain. To tell them that it is good that they felt love. It is a cause of celebration and they must never feel sad or depress if they don’t have the person in their life they fell in love with.

Cause whether that person connects with your life or not, the good thing is that you happen to feel Love. Which is a big thing per se. Or else what is the meaning of having human form if we do not feel love.

On personal note I was devotee of Krishna and I could feel love in his devotion. Thereby I used to draw attention of the grievers towards the love of Krishna/God. This always worked for those who’d stuck in their agony and were unable to let it go. I used to tell them that-‘You are longing for love of someone else. What about family and friends who love you anyway? What about Krishna/God who always waited for your love; for you. He’s been waiting for us that one day we’d leave all our yearnings and endearments for materialistic world. And would turn to him.’ I read this in an essay of Leo Tolstoy.

Apart from these methods for soothing pain and cherishing love. I always amused my callers and listeners with subtle humor though not always subtle. Well, what a guffaw would that be if it is not from heart. Thereby little not so mild humor is always admissible.

How I was this knowledgeable about love. Long story in brief–the first person I fell in love with did bad to me. I grew up, understood life, people and relationships. I dumped the second guy of my life(avenge completed) and empowered my confidence. Now I was the RJ for whom call lines were always jammed. Why? Well, I have always served remedies with special treatment and tinge of humor to my callers that’s why.

First winter night of 2013

It began with my RJ slang-“Oh my God! winter has arrived. Delhiites, my winter confession: I love hot cappuccino with brown sugar and with person who could listen to my jabber all night long. Be it a girl or a guy, hey I am not gay. But I love listeners. And I also love to listen so let’s hear our first caller.”

Caller: “Hello…”
“Hello my friend, whom I am talking to?”
“Ragi.”
“Hello Ragi, how are you and what do you want to ask to Love guru?”
“I am fine…” with hesitant voice she began-“I am in love with this guy…”-before telling anything further she cried.
“Hey, sweetie… don’t cry. Tell me who’s that ruthless who couldn’t cherish priceless emotions?” I said
“I cannot tell his name. He is love of my life. We were together in college. I had the biggest friend circle in whole college cause I have always been friend of friends. Then he came to our college. I don’t remember how exactly he joined our circle. But I only remember that there was something attracting about him that bagged my attention. And then love came to our lives. Now when there is no college and we all are busy in our careers… love walked away. He don’t feel love for me anymore. I had so many friends longing for me but I disregarded their feelings. Guess… cause of that my feelings are abandoned now,” she cried again.
“Awe, That’s not fair you must not think like this. Sweetheart, before telling you remedy for your wound I want You to tell me something. Have you ever tried to fill something of 2kg in a container of 1kg?”
“No.”
“No. Okay, but can you do that?”
“No,” she said.
“There you are. My friend you are full of love. You have so much love to give. And the container you are mourning for he unfortunately turned out to be small. It is his bad-fortune not yours. Have you ever ponder what you possess?”
“No.”
“Oh God ! you are one of the wealthiest creature of the planet and you don’t know about it? Girl! You have lot of love to give. And you are lamenting that you couldn’t fill one container with all of it. Go fill others. You are like cascade of love. And you are weeping! I am totally shocked. I mean what on earth is going on here?”
She giggled. I continued-“Where are all those friends of yours who longed for you. Hey, friends if you are listening well, good news for you is that you can be support for your friend Ragi. And bad part is where you all disappeared?”
“They are where they were,” Ragi told.
“Hey Ragi my pragmatic advice to you would be—go and look for your long lost friends. You said you are friend of friends?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Then go get them. Who says you cannot take U turn. You can always take U turn even in no entry. Besides haven’t you heard that saying of that famous author ah… I forgot his name who said that ‘Love can happen twice.’ I would like to add a bit here… it can happen thrice or four times or even more. Until your soul can finally say I have find true love; I have understood it truly. For all you listeners out there—love can happen as many times. But hey… it doesn’t mean that you may become amorous or unfaithful. Certainly not. You may have search of true love. But once you give your word to someone; once you have someone’s faith in you. Stick to that, Never fall in that. Those who are really looking for love, they know love and surely understand what I mean here.
Ragi, my buddy promise me that you’ll find your true form back again and you’d be distributing your wealth among us?”
“Yes,” I heard a low voice.
“Come on Girl say it out loud.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Alright fairy of love, I will be waiting for your call. You have to make me talk to real Ragi. Okay?”
“Sure. Thanks Meera, for making me feel worth”
“You are more worthy than you think my darling. For now I will help you in reminding who you were and who you are by this song… ‘Roar’ by Katy Perry”

Call ended and I sipped shitty coffee of my radio station. But no time to gulp it all Second caller was ahead.
“Hi Ma’am…”
“Ma’am!” squirt of coffee came out from my mouth-“Please buddy don’t call me Ma’am I am not your teacher here. I am just like all of you… call me Meera…”
“Okay, Meera JI”
“Meera JI! Stop making fun of me”—I heard snigger—“Oh! You are guffawing man. You are not in pain. Go away give space to real heartbreaks…” I discontinued his call for I was capable in judging who is in real pain. Those with heavy voices are not woeful they are more like phonies. They adopt long faces to bag attention that’s all. Real pain belonged to those who hesitated in calling.

Third Caller:
“Hello Meera, how are you?”
“Hello my friend, I am flying in happiness as always. Tell me how did you called me today? Whom I am talking to by the way?”
“I am Vinay. We fight a lot… She is a very good person, we think alike most of the time. We love each other a lot. But It’s just that whenever we talk seriously on some issue we end up squabbling. And now after numerous rounds of bickering, it has become tiresome”
“Buddy, when you have so much Love then why not let love talk and you two listen to it. Since you both love each other a lot, in course of protecting each other from harm. While giving utmost respect and comfort, you both end up on inessentials.”
“Yes that’s what happens every time,” he said.
“Humn… Vinay my friend. Now when your relationship has developed a kind of pattern. You know what she will say on something and why. She knows what you will say and why. Therefore to ward off bickering now is the time when one has to stop saying. And since you have called thereby you’d have to take the initiative. You need to perform an experiment on yourself to save your love. Which is–Do not say a word on an issue where you convincingly feel she is going to lose. Do not say a word even if colossal tides of words surge inside you.
This experiment will succeed in its first implementation. For she’d know that if you are not saying anything then something is definitely dubious and she’d stop. If not this way, then outcome of the issue will tell both of you who should say and who should listen. Alright?”
“Alright,” he said.
“Do this and tell me if it makes you feel any better. Okay… Lots of Luck my friend for your plenty of love and what’s your song request?”
“All of Me’ by John Legend.”

Days of my life were like this, full of callers: lovelorn and swains even when I am not on air. Now when I was done with calls of the day. I headed towards nearby bar as always and sip mugs of ales from the tap.
Everyone knew me: people of my station, people at the bar–those who were guests; staff; people of my own vicinity. Everybody. And they all loved me. Most of them were men not cause I was so full of love. But cause they wanted to sleep with me. For nobody had real love for the girl with Two Heads.

That’s right. I am a belle, like Anna Hathaway. It’s just that I have two heads of Anna Hathaway. Two twigs of neck with heads on them like some snail cartoon. Right one is complete and active with no flaws. Left one is shrink and small head. Its eyes are always close, it’s inactive. But has same gorgeous face as of right one. Other than a swinging dead head attached to my only windpipe. I am absolutely normal. In fact more normal than normal beings. Honest in the world of scoundrels; magnanimous in throng of unsympathetic.

And I never made myself cartoon for I am fashionista. When you have two heads and two gorgeous faces to decorate. You’d love hair dos and playing with maquillage each day. Braid of short bows at front coming from right side of my right head. And a bow bun at the left of my left head I’d do one day. Another day it’d be all new look.

Not just one brand satisfied me when it comes to apparel, bags and accessories. I have always interwoven brands for my dazzling look. Shoes and glasses could never be of shoddy quality cause they ache if you do not heed on quality.
Shopping does not always evince squandering or splurging it also exhibit love and care. I once went to buy shoes in sale season no.. no… I wasn’t buying from sale. I earn darn well and squander like hell. I am a spendthrift. But there was this couple… woman was looking at the discounted shoes when her husband asked her to look at the shoes in fresh collection. She was drawing his attention towards the budget constraint. Whereas he was worried lest her feet get hurt cause of shoddy quality. In the end husband won and convinced wife for buying out of budget shoes which could not hurt her feet.

So who’d shower such love on a girl who could buy everything she choose? This was never my concern rather it was who would dare to love the girl with Two Heads.

Where and how on earth I would ever get such love? I often asked this to my other head(When I didn’t have anyone around me to listen, I have my silent head). In fact I used to transfer all the blames of my blunders to my other head(I could do that; it is not active, it would not complain). I the garrulous always had my other side as perfect as any good boyfriend who would listen to me without saying a word. Who would bear my exasperation, my silly questions and their answers all by myself. And would stay quiet and calm. I was the Love Guru and there was no Love for the Love Guru. But this fate changed when man of my dreams landed on our land.

My boss, Darren Mehta–owner of the channel, was very kind man. He treated me like his daughter. He always appreciated my work and encouraged my confidence. He was the second person for whom I had no dudgeon. First one was my dear friend Swarna who worked with me at the station. She was not RJ though.

My family lived in a small town. And they were just like small townies for they considered me outcast. ‘What? You want to tell me that everybody is like this with people like me. Okay… I give you this one.’ Oh that was my other head… never mind.

So my family worried for the two head girl to an extent that they demeaned me, discouraged me and in the end loathed me. No optimism had ever been flown to my veins. They would have renounced me if they wouldn’t have find a man for me.

But that never happened. They found an old widower for me. Oh… don’t bewilder I am not married. Warrior of my life protected me. My maternal Grandmother, the only wise person in my entire family, filled my heads with fairy tales. And called me her fairy. Just like every other good granny she had always pampered me. But At her death bed she told me to run away to my dreams. For she was dying and she knew that she wouldn’t be around to protect her little princess. Granny gave me a mantra to live life which she asked me to remember for life.

‘I am the most happy person of this planet. I am the lucky one too for I can understand everything. I can do everything. I am the most superior creation of God. I am meant to Love. To give Love and to gain love,’ she told me to bond love with everyone by that way nobody would be my enemy.
It was darn difficult for me to follow granny’s mantra in my early town days. During that spell I was a marketing caller. My sweet voice was good for the job where people didn’t have to see me.

For they couldn’t stand someone like me (they still cannot–children and faint hearts yell out of astonishment when they look at me for the first time. Although my spectacular beauty soothe them instantly but yelling irks me). Then a lucky star shone on my kismet and I met Mr. Mehta. He gave me job in his Radio channel. I paid debt of his kindness by showering my innate talent of entertaining talk on listeners. However, getting at this position was no easy. Like every other big organization of minions(bad ones). I too traversed mire. Nonetheless now when I look back I would say those acrid experiences taught me better than what my grandma said. As how to spend your wealth of love. And on who?

Now I can say that wealth of love should be invested on everyone at first, with vigilant mind of course. Those who are real hearts they would cherish love with you. And those who are nugatory they would eventually get a kick from you.

Love Appeared

My boss’s only son Raphael Mehta after winding up his work in America finally came to India to help his ageing father. He is becoming bit indescribable in words here. May be because I was enchanted by him and now unable to tell him in words.

Like I said before love can be comprehend only by feel—and love he is for me. But I’ll tell you about him. Like his father had always said whenever he had mentioned about him. And I paid no serious attention to keep it stored in my mind. Although later when he appeared in real before me and I was entangled in his enchantment. My mind recollected all that data from my subconscious mind. And stored it at the top most priority shelf of my conscious mind.

The father told that Raphael has always been an obedient son, an excellent student, a warm person. A worldly-wise man. He’d never been capricious or impudent or imbecile. Darren Mehta and his wife Agatha lived separately but Raphael grew up in milieu of a perfect family. By the time Mr. Mehta and his wife came upon to live separately Raphael was grown man of twenties. He lived with his mother all this time. But then his Indian blood called him to nestle on mother land like his father. Agatha was not living with them but she too was a virtuous person. Or how else she would have nourished this gift of mine. She was on good terms with her husband.

Now about Raphael. He is Five point someone no… no… five feet nine inch tall. Not brawny nor fat… a healthy white man with red round meat ball cheeks like Punjabis. An occidental debonair. Amiable and righteous human being. You simply feel happy when meet him. I met him first time in my studio. Promptly he called me “Ah… Love Guru. I hear your show a lot. You are too good, my father is right about you. Our channel is flourishing cause of you. You are our channel.”

I didn’t fell by this time.

“What? my show aired in America and I didn’t know? Now I need raise or I’ll go on strike,” he laughed on I my jesting. I knew Mr. Mehta had been sending Raphael recordings of my show cause he enjoyed them. There was hazy attraction but not love. He came to station every day. There was a new cabin for him. We worked together. He always laughed on my blunt jests. Actually he laughed on everything I said. We formed very good bond. Raphael was becoming someone who understood me(thoroughly). He began to know what kind of person I am. My mood, my honesty, The flower in me that was blooming and sprinkling its goodness everywhere and on everyone. He recognized all of me.

I was darn secure and comfortable with him: we shared episodes of escapades, beer… And all the people at the bar astounded on this. For I had never let anyone of those come this close to me. I had always kept them at bay. Then one fine evening when we were imbibing mug after mug of beer Raphael asked me-“Meera, do you really love Lord Krishna or is this just a cover to hide your pain?”

“I do love him. My grandmother told me lot many stories of him. I have affection for him. I am really fond of his plays at Brij. He loves all his girl-friends. He never discriminates in his friends like us. He loves all his friends equally. You know there is this narration of ‘Maha Raas’ in his stories where he appeared for all his girl-friends. He took as many avatars as there were girls longing for his love.”

“Sounds interesting,” he said.

“He is there for me too. I know I will never find true love here and he who loves everyone without any condition he loves me too,” Why did I divulged this deepest feeling to Raphael I still cannot fathom out.

“Shut up,” for the first time he spoke like this to me. “He who shall not love the bona fide that you are—will be the most unwise and unfortunate person of the cosmos. You are darn beautiful, you are hilarious and everything about you is so good.”

“And I have two heads…” I made addition to his list.

“Nobody sees that. It is not the worry.”
“Mr. Mehta you are half asleep,” I descended from the high chair when he held my arm,
“Trust me. Anyone can Love you.”
“Will you love me?” I asked with same intimidation he was giving me. He had no answer to this question. He let go my arm and I left the bar.

Next day at the studio we crossed each other with slight aura of awkwardness. I talked to Swarna about last night. She eased me by teasing me with same medicine that I gave to my callers. I went back to work. To take calls of love lost species.

Calls of that day:
“Hello,” a voice came.
“Hello my friend. Whom I am talking to?”
“I am Anirudh. I love this girl…” sound of cry emerged in between. “I gave her everything, I care for her. Not for a moment I left her side. She always slighted me with her beauty yet I continued loving her. I have real godly feelings for her. I am willing to bestow my soul to her. She is my princess and now after a long journey of mutual feelings she realizes that I am not right for her. That I am a dweeb. Not suitable for her.”

“Anirudh I am sorry to say but I blame you for this. It is all your fault. Good guys like you people have real love to give. What you possess and what you have given to that girl this is something every girl longs for. But your fault is that good guys like you; you all too like those good looking uppish scamps yearn for princesses. Have you ever thought about those not so good looking, plain sober girls? Have you ever thought that maybe they are good heart? That they too deserve someone like you? NO. Nobody thinks about them. They are either for use and throw by some or to make fun of. I am not saying that appearance don’t matter. It sure does but feelings weight more than appearance. For can we abandon our true loved ones in their deformed state? If we can then we are not in love with the person. We are just in love with ourselves and add others to love us more. I know that you are understanding every word that I am saying here for you have just traversed jilting.”

“You are right Meera. You are true friend who is never afraid of telling truth to your friends even if it is painful,” he said.

“Well I would not make this call any lengthier on sermons of truth and pain. For there are other callers too waiting to be cured. You my friend, you have to promise me. That you will fill heart of someone who possess true love if not looks.”
“I promise. I will do that.”
“Good. Now I will play my favorite song—‘One love’ by Blue… for you.”

After ending the call I turned around to grab that same shitty coffee of the studio. And I found Raphael standing outside our cabin(mine and DJ’s) looking at me through the giant glass. Why was he there? I didn’t bother to go and ask him for I was busy in work. I could do that later. Work comes first. Although I liked that he was there.

Second caller:
“Hello lover of love, who’s on line?” I sang.
“He went for the model,” without uttering initial formality an ached heart revealed pain.
“Okay… whom I am speaking to?”
No reply for a moment
“Hello…”-I again asked
“Trisha.”
“Trisha my friend…”
“Don’t tell me that I should celebrate the fact that I had love once in my life. I don’t want your sermons. I want answer. Why did he left me? I loved him truly,” she went abruptly.
“Why do you want to possess him?” I asked.
“I love him. We were in love”
“Was it his love too or just your love?” I asked again.
No reply came.
“Trisha You were with him, with your love in your heart. If he would have loved you then you never had any need to make this call.”
She cried greatly.
“Good. Go on cry as much as you like. Tell me when you are done,” I waited.
Few moments past she gathered herself.
“I am done now. Meera, tell me what do you have for me?”
“Nothing my friend I am happy that you were crying like this. You were letting out your pain. Which is darn good; which is the remedy per se. I just want to add right reason to your mourning here.”
“What is it?” she asked
“It is better to cry for not having the person you wished to be with. Than crying after having that person in your life.”
She didn’t said anything and I continued-“love should be thanked than expecting from it. Feel gratitude for one cause of whom you felt love for love makes you magnanimous. Thank Krishna for originating such indescribable beautiful magic. Or you can go on with wailing; cry till death. But there’d be no point of doing that. It’d not make you any human. It’d make you any other being but not human. For Human forgives, they move on,” I tried to mollify.

“Humans deceive too.”

“He didn’t deceive you he deceived himself. Damn him who dares to break heart full of love. Listener this goes for you all too—never breaks the heart that loves you. It is the most damn thing you would do to yourself. Trish my friend I love you. My heart is full of love for you. Please accept my heart”–I always offered my heart full of love to those who I find on the brinks of losing faith in love. Cause Some people are not meant to bear shattering but shattering never discriminates. She giggled on my offering.
“No,” she replied.
“Are you willing to give me your heart?” I asked.
“I am straight”
“I am straight too like you my friend and I too hit on the enemy.”
She guffawed.
“My friend lets listen a song and tell our enemies that we’ll continue to love them. Even if they break our hearts. let’s throw challenge on them. Hey all you enemies we will continue to love you–show us how many times you can break our heart. You may give up but we’ll not”
“Yes, Meera lets do this.”
“Let’s do this girl. We will give love. We are here to give love. We will defeat our enemy with love. My listeners if you haven’t done this already then do it. Go and express your love; shower fall of love without asking anything in return. Give them blows of kisses(of no sound) from far. Which’d remind them your love. Tell them that you are letting them go with tons and tons of love. Leave your desire of possession. And then perhaps you will witness miracle of love”
“Yeah… let’s do this. Meera I want you to play a song for the enemy—‘love you till the end’ by Pogues’”
“DJ—member of enemy race you heard the gal, don’t you? so stop looking at me play it…”
…
That day ended as splendid in celebrating love as every other day. But that day Raphael stood whole time looking at me. Finally I went to him. For I never intended to burden him with guilt or sympathy for me. For I am a woman who don’t like sympathy.
“Never break the heart that loves you. Did you hear that sir?” I asked.
“I know.”
“What are you worried for? Hey last night I forget to tell you I have love in my life. I was just teasing you”
“Really?” he turned as happy as if somebody hear the news that danger is gone now.
“Yes. I love myself like nobody can. I love myself more than one can imagine. I respect myself. I fulfill all wishes of myself. I take darn well care of myself. And I make myself happy more than I make my callers happy.”

Truth from my big captivating eyes soothed him. Thereafter my days with Raphael were fill with gusto. Instead of I make him laugh now he was looking for my laugh. When I laugh… when I am happy… He looked for all that. The man was making me feel like woman. He often looked at me with wonder. I saw that in his eyes. He never said anything. But each day his eyes said something that captured my heart. I was rolling in this spell. I felt like sharing everything with him. I wished him to look at me all the times. I wished his eyes to follow me everywhere. At grocery store: while choosing home articles. At clothing store. At shoe shop. No… no… not at the salon but right after it.
At studio I used to look at him with heart full of rich substantial feelings, and my eyes testifying that. Each day my eyes conveyed this to him. His eyes also confirmed the same. We were silent and emotions were talking. At home I wasn’t talking with my other head now rather I was imagining him. As if he was presented everywhere. I was welling up with strong emotions for him. My days were filled with Love. Those were my days of cloud nine which later replaced by…

My Days of Despondence

I slipped to him unbeknownst about thorns that were approaching my path of love. Lissie arrived–a beautiful Taylor swift kind of girl. She was not her but she stole my song—‘love story’. That I often played on my show for Raphael. The song that never stopped in my mind for a single second. She wasn’t invited by him but it was due for her to visit. And When they kissed before everyone which included me too. I heard splintering sound of my dreams. A single moment made me realize who I was? I was nothing. How could I forget? I was just an employee. He was the owner. I looked beautiful but I had two heads. And she on the other hand was complete; was his perfect match. She was in fact more gorgeous than Taylor.

That day I came back home like alien. I was looking at my house in an unfamiliar way. I wasn’t in shock. I woke to reality. I looked myself deep in the mirror and burst into tears. I went to bed, clutched the pillow and made it wet. I cried till I felt I would die of crying. But then I remembered my friend—Krishna. I went to his big frame picture at my living room. I sat there, didn’t said anything. He is omnipresent Lord. He was there during my wailing so there was no need to retell him anything.

I took off for next day. I never wished to show my weak state to Raphael. But how would I stand him and Lissie together that was my biggest concern. ‘Should I change my job? Why should I do that? Why should I alter my life?’ Such thoughts hovered and haunted me more than the ghosts of Evil Dead and Exorcist. Swarna came in the afternoon. She took half day off to see me.

“What are you doing Meera?” first thing she asked when I opened the door for her. I was still in my night wears.
“You are Meera, Goddess of Love. You cannot sit dispirited like this,” Swarna continued.
“What about my love?” I asked in depressed tone.
“You are love per se. How can you forget what granny told you,” she tried to remind me.
“She never said that I am Goddess or Love per se”
“Oh you have become one, don’t you recognize yourself anymore,” she enquired.

I didn’t know what to say. Should I cry before her? Should I had her see that I am weak. Should we do this before our best friends? I was lost. I couldn’t recognize anyone. Nonetheless I composed myself and told her that I would be back in my form tomorrow. I was not in a state to tell my state. What should I have told to anyone? My dream was broke. My dream of devoting him godlike love was hit. I was body with no soul. I had no wish left. My god of love—Raphael with whom I dreamed of feeling God–had not only gone far. But it was declared that he wasn’t for me.
Happy moments that I imagined for both of us, my dreams, all of that broke into tiny prickly pieces. And the worst part was that those prickly fragments were lying inside my heart. I knew how these wounds vanish. They gradually go away by amalgamation in heart per se.

Amalgamation is long and darn painful process that’s why people call love guru like me. But who I should have called? I remembered my friend Krishna but when I beseech him it didn’t felt like I was a poor victim of pain. Though I was in brutal pain yet on remembering Krishna my inner self wished to call me something. Then came the time when I happened to need doze of my own talent. I loved Krishna but I also loved this man he created.

I was sinking in Raphael’s love. I was off from my track. The flower inside me was in deep danger. I was scared. But I couldn’t understand why I was scared. Love was making me weak. I acted bizarre at times. I played songs for him; now song for Raphael was—‘With you or without you’ of U2. There was no need to evince him my state. For it was evident by my disappearance in his presence.

Relieved From Pain

Then there also came the time when my inner self confronted me. It told me that I am greedy. For I was longing for something that wasn’t mine. It gave me the name that I never wished to give myself–Sinner. I was running blindly for what–Lust or Love—I couldn’t tell. I criticized myself in many ways. What bad that heavenly being Lissie has done to me? I must not think of him becoming mine for that would mean breaking of her heart. How a woman can do this to another woman? I would never do this wrong. Not over my dead body. I am a bonafide who could never be compel to do sinful just cause of mere yearnings.

I cried before Krishna I prayed to him earnestly to take away that emotion from me. I also made him swear of my love; entreated him to take me away my pain. I also looked at the sermons I had given to my callers. They did no good to me. Nonetheless they helped me in continuing my work. Or Darren Mehta could have fired me. No he would never do that; he would have given me another job at the station. And that would be more worse. Therefore I held my great life of dignity and plush with strong hands. I pursued to revive myself. I emerged confident and strong on Love as always and I looked the prettiest as always.

At work Raphael very well understood my state. But the poor good man was tied with his goodness that he had already committed to someone else. He might have thought of having me in his life on seeing me. Unfortunately he too couldn’t do anything for the feelings that could have bloomed between us.

Lissie was a good soul. Watching her pretty face wasn’t easy. Each day I struggled with my broken self. And each day back at home I told myself that I would never hate that good person lissie.

It took months to traverse fire and panic attacks. I went out with friends; with unknown people at the bar. Who made plans–in spur of moment–of adventure at mountain terrains. I joined them for no reason. I was only trying to find my inner peace in the world outside. Although my inner side was more barred than before for outside world. It must have been a miracle of Krishna for I cannot tell what exactly happened but I gained my peace back again.

I read many books and articles that deals with devotion for Krishna. In nut shell those sermons didn’t tell me anything(for I was not sane to understand anything) but they were very good in testifying my honest devotion for him. I always believed that my pure devotion and selfless love is enough to make me meet Krishna after I die. And then he will decide whether he will amalgamate me in him or we would stay in each other’s arm. So scriptures testified my devotion. Krishna also told me in my heart that if I blame myself any further. He would take that onto him. Thus how self-pitying and hating stopped.

Eventually I found myself relieved with the pain. Although I moaned aplenty during course of pain. But I came out more substantial person than I was before my entanglement in love with Raphael Mehta. I began to cherish the feeling I had for him. I blessed him. I prayed happiness for him. Gradually life was turning happier like never before. I was rising up from attachments. Or what a Guru I would be if I couldn’t tell my callers that love means freedom not binding. It must not bind anyone nor you neither the person whom you love. I gained new light. I actually realized that love is giving not taking.

Back in tranquility

So when the storm of my heart passed and serenity was ebbing and flowing. Mr. Raphael Mehta found this type of tide perfect for floating. Now that’s why we should call them enemy when we need them they are confused. They couldn’t figure out what to do? And when we go away they regret; they want us then.

One good evening in between of my show Raphael came in and asked the DJ to play the song–I secretly wished in my heart that he should sing to me–‘World of Our Own’ by Westlife’(how he knew this?-I wondered)

Why should I love him? What did he do to poor Lissie? Well, I never wished to know so I never asked. But why should I love him–was the question swirling in mind. I thought I should love to God only for he is the only one who surely loves back. He is the one who’d always love me despite knowing who I am and what I have done.

I didn’t responded to Raphael’s gesture of approaching. When the day at work was over I pressed the button of elevator to go out of the premises. I didn’t wish to encounter him. But he was all ready to not only encounter me but to engross with me. He was already there in the elevator. I tried to engage myself with the phone. Although there was nothing in the phone I could do at the time. Nonetheless I depicted my best to tell him that my stint of day dreaming was over. That I was in serene state and no endeavor of his could pull me out. But his courage was there to carve a new idyll for me, replacing the one that existed, that I created.

“Meera?” his soft voice attacked my heart. “Are you upset with me?”
“No. Why would I be upset with you? No, I am good, I am not upset.”
“You’ve been avoiding me for quite a time now.”
“No I am not. I am just busy in work. How’s Lissie?”-

He halted the elevator in between; his sturdy body came closer. He looked into my eyes and said-“I will.”
“What you will?” this all was bit dreading to me.
“Answer to your question is–I will; in fact I do. I am in love with you,” he said. I remembered my question darn well-“It was long ago Mr. Mehta I am don’t…”

“I will do everything to make you happy. I want you to be happy with me. I want your love. I don’t want you to go. I want to spend each moment of my life with you. I want to love you for whole of my life. I want you to stay with me. I am not sure if I will be able to go on in this life without you. Or you may say I don’t want to go on in this life without you. You have my soul Meera. My life lies with you now. I lost in fight with my inner self. I am tired of avoiding the fact that you are love to me. My happiness is you. I want you to stay with me for I cannot stay without you. We need just one peaceful person to live life. Peace is what I seek. Peace is what you are to me. What a life would that be without your love; without the dreams of two Godly heads. I will be mad without you. Would you not rain your kindness on me, my Goddess?”-he held my upper arms and my back touched wall of the elevator.

I should have untangled myself. But heart filled with Love; eyes that were telling same affection seized me. I stayed there for I didn’t wish him to trickle a single tear. If he would have shed a drop my soul would have broken. I had never hurt a single sentient in my entire life. So how on earth I could have hurt the being cause of whom I celebrated celestial emotions called Love.

“Could you just stay here for now,” my palm touched his right cheek. I looked deep into his eyes gauging truthfulness. We settled down on the floor and for very long time I looked at him. Then slowly I placed my right head’s forehead on his forehead. I don’t remember for how long I stayed melted in that ethereal warmth. Covered in the arms of one I called my God of love.

I loved God. I still do and we should not entangle ourselves with attachments. But then God also tells us to Love his people or there’s no point of Loving him. If we cannot forgive and love his people. Now there was no ecstatic left in love for him. I was serene and it didn’t matter to me now if he connects with my life or not. For I was sanctified with the feelings of Love. Nonetheless I accepted his Love for I had said that ‘never break the heart that loves you’.

Live happy ever after was fated for me and I could never do to him what he did to me. Besides how can I deny a man as good as him for life. Real men don’t just sing cajolery for their women. They keep them by right; they give them rights. Wherefore Raphael, the well-bred, gallantly proposed before all the eyes of station. All eyes glinted for our Love except for one pair.

Derren Mehta who always liked me as his daughter hesitated in having me as his daughter in law. However strong eddy of Love swiped his willies cause Raphael revealed same truthfulness of love that was shown to me. Whereby he sanctioned our bond and felt happy for his son. We got married in church not because Raphael was darn follower of religion but I wished to wear beautiful white dress on my wedding. Few fellow tipplers from the bar who thought me as ‘only good to sleep with’ also attended our wedding. They witnessed how I was much more than that. They saw Raphael kissed lips of both of my faces and no… I didn’t cry. Its him… he cried on our wedding. The Hesperian debonair cried in my love. Oh my God I love my Love story.

–END–

By-
Ritu Bajaj

Follow me @touaguine