Incomplete

Strange are the ways of the world.

Woody Allen once said, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans”.

The day he met her, he knew. His sister told him that this kind of certainty is rather unnerving.

Yet, he paid no heed. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he pursued her.

He wrote poetry about her. So consumed he was by her, that he forgot everything else.

He never could gather up the courage to tell her how he felt. But the words, they were his high. Unrequited love, no. Unless she knew, he figured, it could never be unrequited. It was just incomplete.

He liked the idea of an incomplete love story. He liked the idea of his secret love for her. It was exciting, similar to forbidden love, and yet, more exciting because it was his secret. Nobody was in on it.

But, sometimes, life isn’t simple. Mostly, it’s not. 

Somehow, she found out. He never knew how.

But she knew. She asked him out, said she’d always liked him.

He didn’t know what to feel. If this was someone else..

But she had become his obsession, and he couldn’t let it be that simple. He had a whole “filmi sequence” planned out in his mind.

This wasn’t his “riding off into the sunset together” moment. This, he knew, wouldn’t last.

The idea of her was so much more powerful than a relationship with her. His muse, he reasoned, could never be his girlfriend.

Influenced that he was by these grand ideas of love, loss, pain and poetry- that he could not let go.

She moved on, and he continued to write. He poured out his deepest desires, his innermost thoughts and his inner turmoil flowed onto the pages unhindered by anything.

Soon, he achieved fame. Too many broken hearts, they could all relate. He started trending on social media. His first collection of poems sold out within days.

The critics were generous with their praise, and the fans were overcome by adulation.

Book signings, contracts, meetings with publishers and agents. One could say, his ideas weren’t wrong. His muse got him the success.

He got tired of that- became a recluse and the years went by, as if in a hazy dream.

She flitted in and out of his dreams. He usually went to bed seeing her pictures on Instagram, and woke up to notifications of her activity on Facebook.

He used to be a bright, funny and cheerful kid. One look at him, and you could never have imagined him capable of – well, this.

It’s hard to imagine a life devoted to the memory of another. And yet, that is what he did.

Beautiful, funny Kiara.

College reunion happened. He went, if for nothing else but to catch a glimpse of her.

And there she was. Smiling at him from across the room.

He went up to her, gave her a peck on the cheek and only asked her what had been plaguing him since then.

“How did you know?”

She smiled, and said “Intuition.”, and went away.

On his way out, he handed her a slip of paper.

On it were these words:

“Lamhe guzar gaye, ek haseen khwaab dekhte dekhte.

Tum who haseen khwaab the, ho aur shayad zindagi bhar rahoge.

Shayad yahi humaari saza thi, ki uss din na tum ruke aur na hum rok paaye.

In faasolo main ek sachai hai, in kagazon pe likhi jo tanhai hai.

Ab yaha se kahan jaaye hum, soch kar bhi dar lagta hai.

Tumhe joh dekh liya, toh ek alag zindagi ka khwaab dekhta hoon.

Iss zindagi se koi shikayat hai to sirf ek, ki tum aaye toh kyun na reh sake.

Iska pata hume bhi tha, zikr shayad tumse bhi kiya tha.

Zindagi guzar gayi, ab shayad umeed ne bhi saath chod diya hai

Ek galat kadam ne shayad zindagi ka ruk badal diya.”

There it was, an incomplete love story.

………………….....................................................................................................................

I will leave you here, dear reader. I could make up a thousand different scenarios. I could give you a happy ending, I could give you a sad ending. But, I think I will leave you with this thought:

In every story, we are trying to find something. Whatever ending we choose, reflects our yearning for something bigger than ourselves. It reflects a part of you. I choose to leave you with this. Do with it what you will.