Limerence

 

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I suppose you must have sometime taken a trip to the riverside, or the seashore, and just sat alone and in silence, letting the wind there blast upon your face and blow your hair astray. Beautiful feeling, right? I know. I suppose you must have, after some time of quiet happiness, just looked around yourself and seen other people doing exactly that. I suppose, you must have seen the girl sitting on the sand, a few meters from where you are, with no makeup on, and stared at her for some minutes, admiring the way her strangly, unstyled black hair blew in the breeze, how the setting sun lit up her chiseled face in an almost unreal glow, and how her dupatta seemed to know the exact folds it should make as it draped over her shoulder and elbow. I suppose, you sat there and admired her for sometime before turning to other things.

Next time, before you turn away, go up to the same girl, and tell her how beautiful she is. Tell her, how her strangly unstyled black hair blew in the breeze, how the setting sun lit up her chiseled face in an almost unreal glow, and how her dupatta seemed to know the exact folds it should make as it draped over her shoulder and elbow, and how all that made you stare. Watch her smile, and as you begin making delightful conversation with her, watch her large, deep eyes shine.

Watch yourself fall in love with womankind.

I suppose you must have, on some Sunday during your vacations, woken up quite late and feeling utterly happy and  at peace with the entire universe, wandered into your kitchen looking for something to munch on, and seen your mother laugh at you as you, so ardently, rummaged through her jars on the kitchen shelf. I suppose you looked at her just to ask where she had kept the cookies from last week, or maybe you laughed too, along with her, before returning to your hunt.

The next Sunday, before you look for those cookies, look at your mother for, maybe, one more minute than she needs to tell you exactly which Tupperware container the biscuits are in. Watch her jet black hair, the careless bun she’s tied it in, the light grey hair at the temples and the few annoying strands that escape from it to find the perfect positions to frame her face. Watch her hands, her long fingers as they knead the dough for your favourite breakfast. Watch how she smiles as she sees you looking at her, doing what she’s been doing for the past twenty years, her tired eyes crinkling just perfectly. Next Sunday, before you look for those cookies, grab your camera and click some good pictures of your mother, and watch, as she giggles and doesn’t hide her happiness at her face and heirloom earrings being captured.

Though maybe it ain’t too possible, watch yourself love your mother just a little more. Watch how delighted she is, when she looks at those pictures, at some future time.

Watch yourself fall in love with womankind.

I suppose you might, someday, watch your sister’s eyes brimming with tears as she tells you about the boy who broke her heart, those same stunning eyes sparkling with unbridled happiness as that same boy does well in life. You might, someday watch your wife, her lips break into a sigh as she shuts her laptop, on her unfinished project, to cuddle your crying child at 3 in the night. Those same lips,in her favourite shade of pink, that curve into the ravishing smile, you set your heart on, when your child calls her “Ma” for the first time. Try telling your mother, your sister, or maybe the lady across the street whom you meet on your way to work, that she is beautiful. Watch yourself fall in love with womankind and watch, as the women in your life fall in love with themselves.

I suppose you might pray that your daughter finds someone who knows just how to admire the wave of her brown hair, and the waves, in the sea of a woman’s heart. Someone, who knows just howto utter her beautiful name.

And I suppose, you will teach your son, to do the same.

 

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