We are bound by it. Its rules. A domain we have tried to capture over the decades but in vain.
I have fear. We all have. We are born with it. We are inherent to it. We are a consequence of it. A culmination of all the fears blended and bottled in this unique, one of a kind mixture.
There is the fear of sparks. When we plug in something to a love socket. We sometimes visualize ourselves falling prey to the sparks that fly out occasionally, interacting with our innocent hands, fiddling with it before throwing it onto the nearby wall along with us.
We fear when we succumb to our friend’s requests and get ourselves seated to the co-driver’s seat while he takes the vehicle for a spin. All our mental unconscious calculations go haywire and we feel that the vehicles are rushing in to send us to the graveyard and rid the world of a measly existence.
We fear when she says YES.
Yes. I love you.
You might find your heart throbbing at a pace faster than Bolt. And the world might suddenly become complete and welcoming to you. You might finally plant that kiss with all the passion and devotion you have ever dreamed off. And then you dream. You dream of your future in which she has taken up a considerable amount of space. A space of which you were neither aware of nor even bothered to be bothered with. A future of endless calls, messages and maybe a few love letters to rekindle the old spirit of love. This is beautiful. And marvelous. All the possible scenarios of you two rush through your mind: happy, sad, angry, kinky, loving, frustrating. And you laugh at these creations and rush on to pick up her call. You then see yourselves throwing away your money on that bachelor’s party your friends organized in Bali. There is an exotic dancer there, wrapped in her tight black lingerie, showing off her assets to you who is days away from being tied a noose to your neck. Your friends take on their fifth tequila shot and rush off with the ladies they could find. And you are left alone to contemplate your decision and your life and what has led you to be here. You take up your phone, browse through the countless pictures she has sent you over the months and smile through them. And you think: I have got my perfect girl. I am complete.
But deep inside there is a fear. A fear you can always conjure up at will you know. It’s powerful. It had, it can and it will destroy you. Like a parasite it thrives in you. And it has time as one of its closest friends. And then someday when you are sitting in your home, in your sofa, doing routine work, you decide to take a break and socialize virtually. And then you come across pictures of your friends and their lives and all that they were upto. And maybe some adds here and there. And when you were immersed in it she comes and says that she wants to go out with her old college friend.
I will be back in a couple of hours.
Who are you meeting?
Oh he is my friend form college. I recently got in touch with him through Facebook and we chatted and all and decided to meet up.
So take care. I won’t take long. Bye.
You felt a slight distance in the bye. Like a bye forever my dear. Mmwwaahhhh.
And then it rises. The seed it planted long ago was just watered now and it grew in a jiffy.
This fear has an own word of its own in the English dictionary. A word that is dangerous and a bastard. That can shake structures and create ruckus in the board meetings and presentations. A word we all dread for. A word that poets have come to love and bring in their melancholy and expressions.
When it rises, it brings on some of its cousins as well. What if, why, when, etc. they understand each other perfectly and compliment them. All are cunning, devious, mocking in their nature. They are harsh, senseless, blunt and effective in bringing in their skill onto the table along with But. And as you sit there, he pops in numerous situations into your puny brain. And you speculate. Dream hates it. Both are totally different and can’t stand each other. They require a separate piece of paper to be described upon.
So the buts keep in pouring and your heart beats faster. Faster. Not like the one you had when she reciprocated to your love. This is dark and sinister. And slowly it injects its poison into your system and you speculate. Wild tales.
And so I say. Never speculate. And while there is an urge to do it, try to pass it onto dream. Let them fight it out. The dream lord is the best lord you can come across. His domain is the one where we can discover ourselves and our state of affairs in this pale blue dot. Where the dreams are made up of your fears in such a manner that when u open your eyes, all is as it ought to be. The crumpled up blanket, the wayward pose in which you were sleeping and the fan rotating at its highest speed in the summers. You can let out a slight smile if you want now.