The conundrum life had placed us in had no clear answer. With a sigh, she clutched my hand. Her eyes penetrated straight into mine. There was a fire blazing in those beautiful blue eyes as she told me, “You’re the most caring and sensible person I have ever met. I will never forget you. Our time together will always be sacred for me; I shall forever cherish it.”
I didn’t realise when I gave myself up to her tight embrace; it was only after some time that I came to, that I became conscious of the fact that I was holding this beautiful lady in an enchanting landscape. It was as if all boundaries between us had been broken. She seemed to be a part of me; as spontaneous as the snow upon the Machhapuchre, the water plants in the Phewa Lake and the trees in the surrounding hills.
At night lying in my bed, my mind agitated by its search for answers that would never be clear cut, I asked myself, “Is this ‘true love’?”
The two of us were tied by and dependent on our respective circumstances, and so I wondered, “Am I in love with the lady who is asleep beside me, or is all of this driven by what Freud called ‘eros’?”
“Am I in the kind of love I have read about only in novels, or am I only driven by instinct?” I asked myself. “Is what I am feeling right now perhaps the same as the feeling Shakespeare’s Romeo had for Juliet, or Emily Bronte’s Heathcliff for Catherine?” I wondered... “Or does this all boil down to questions of sexuality; only a biological force, discharged in the act of intercourse?”
“It cannot be only a matter a passionate yet heavily sex-driven attachments,” I reasoned. “I have seen the tenderness she has in her eyes for me; felt this tenderness in my very bone.” I thought of the way she looks at me, the influence my words have upon her, the love and adoration in her eyes. Oh, how special she had felt in my arms!
“Is it really possible for people who’ve grown in completely different societies to fall so passionately in love within such a short period of time?” I asked myself again.
•••
As we were boating in the Begnas Lake, she had, what seemed to me then, a rather crazy idea. “Why don’t we go swimming?” she asked me. The idea seemed to have come out of the blue, and I—not being a very good swimmer—did not really see much sense in it. I had only ever swum in shallow pools and was terrified of the gigantic lake. I have to admit I was scared of being swallowed up by the scary lake, the same lake which, up until a moment ago, had been the picture of soothing tranquillity and loveliness to me.
But my protests had no effect on her. She grew more insistent, and taking my hand in hers, she said to me, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Trust me will you?” Her eyes looked straight into mine as she told me, “I know you can swim here. I’m here if anything happens, aren’t I? “I am ready to vanish with you even, if anything happens,” she said, and the force of these words struck me with such an intensity that what Freud called ‘thanatos’, the fear of death, immediately lost its hold of me. I jumped into the lake and discovered that I was a better swimmer than I thought I was.
“I wouldn’t have been able to do this had I not trusted her,” thought I even as the touch and feel of the cold water took my elation to another level. I had accomplished something because of her, and so I began to wonder again: “Will I be able to trust her if we, by some miracle, decide to live together some day? Will she inspire me to higher goals? Will I realise my potentials by taking risks?” But then again, I was brought back to earth once again by my thoughts, “Are we really ever going to live together...” I thought to myself.
•••
When we were hiking to reach Sarangkot, the lady by my side found herself unable to ascend the steep stairs, and told me, “My legs feels as heavy as cement.” I really did not want us to miss a glimpse of the sunrise together, so I did the only thing I could do; I carried her on my back, and we watched the sunrise together after all.
It was only later that she told me, “I was pretending to see what you would do at the stairs, you know. I wanted to see if you would take any measure to help me out.”
She told me that she was gratified, and I began pondering once again: “Am I ready to take the responsibility to support her in the future? Will I be able to disregard my egocentricity and selfishness for her happiness? Am I ready to be by her side at all times?”
•••
Rain fell slowly outside as we sat at a New Road café, sipping our coffee. A huge painting on the wall in front of me—What’s On a Man’s Mind, signed: Sigmund Freud—had me fascinated. The nude woman on the man’s face was ingeniously drawn.
“What’s on a woman’s mind?” I asked the lady in front of me. “Maybe shopping?” she suggested. “Or perhaps trying to look beautiful?”
“I’m asking you for something basic,” I told her.
“Well then, I suppose it’s the same thing that men want,” she told me after a while.
And here was the very answer that solved the riddle for me; at least to a certain extent.
•••
I was a young boy, struggling with life, and in search of better opportunities; she, a young girl from another part of the world, a place known for its opportunities.
She grew up in a society where—according to what I have come to believe—people do not have to struggle for basic needs. Rather, they survive in a world of cut throat competition, and have hopes of attaining big things in life.
So she had her own dreams and plans, a deep sense of individuality. And had become somewhat derailed from the track of my aspirations.
“Then, was our bonding the outcome of my striving for better opportunities and a manifestation of individuality on her part?” I ask myself.
•••
When we finally separated, I felt as if the two of us shared the same feeling and emotion. She was low in spirits that day; not excited about returning to the land she had come from.
I have come to realise that I was content and grateful simply to be able to hold her in my arms. I will still want to kiss her when her skin withers and wrinkles. “I will be able to compromise,” I tell myself.
However, only time will tell what it has in store for us. In the meanwhile, we exist; both of us, living our own separate lives.
- Krishna Dangi
No comments :
Post a Comment