Of lifetimes lost in time spans...

To quote a perspective from Rathish’ blog “...it makes a world of difference when you look at what you have gained - a timespan that's worth a lifetime.” I agree.

This is not some bitter article in memory of a-love-that-could-have-been-mine nor is it one of those teary-eyed mushy letters about love's labours lost. In fact this is nothing now but maybe it would amount to something soon and eventually this would be everything I believe in. Hard to speculate now so I wouldn’t trespass into those grey areas.

Why do we talk about ‘a love lost’? How does one manage to lose love? Does that mean love is something that can be quantified, measured, treasured and in some cases lost? Can it be seen? Is that why we say we lost it, when we don’t see it anymore?
How? Why? Aah! the complex connotations to a simple word that moves the world.

*Sigh*

I don’t know about the rest of the world but I, for one haven’t lost love. Somehow, I never felt an urge to tie the two together. (I mean, love and lost). It is just one permutation/combination that didn’t click. How would that disprove the others? Does this mean, I sit in one place and run around the trees with mon amour in my dreams? Of course not, there is more to life and love than the few measly interpretations we choose to hold true.

I have been told time and again to let go and not to hold on…neither to people nor to their memories when they are gone. Easier said than done. You do move on in life…not leaving behind a love but carrying it. And no, it is not an unopened package, lying in some dark corner of your mind. ‘Unrequited love’, ‘Lost love’, ‘Broken heart’ –use any expression you want but to me it all means just one thing. Love exists in your life.

But what do you do with that truckload of anger, resentment, disappointment, you-name-it-I-feel-it-emotion on seeing a wise education sponsored dream termed as wild and buried alive under social commitments?
You could do a rain-dance like the witch doctor in next door South America and hope the ensuing downpour buries you along with all that darn pain. Or you could sit in your little corner and count the scars you have (or the broken hearts in your trail, as the case may be) and forget to Live, while you are crunching those inconsequential numbers. Or better still, pour it all in a blog and try to clog the bandwidth, like yours truly just did.

At the end of it (Damn the *#@%ing pun) do you know what aches the most? – That my lifetime didn’t last for that time span…