I always wondered what it feels to be in love. I saw couples all round - kissing, hugging, holding hands, buying gifts. Would my love story (if any) follow the same path, I wondered.
At times I was jealous, discarding the days allotted for showcasing love as cliched. But somewhere deep in my heart, like every other 'i-am-single', I too wanted to spend a cozy afternoon lying my head on someone's chest big enough to engulf my loneliness.
Things have changed now. Though our love may temporally be called a 'budding' one, I feel as if I have loved him for ever. An inseparable being of mine, I look forward to moments when he would surprise me. Yes, the cliched ones too! A moment's separation feels like my world will break apart. But it is at these moments that we feel how much we love each other.
I won't see him for a month. The distance is excruciating. He has promised to send me love letters. Let's see if he is actually an expert in writing them as he claims to be.
Falling in love, being in love, loving each other, I have realised that nothing matters, except he and I. Even when I lay my head on his shoulders with a well-known comfort, I wait for glitters and carnations to surprise me at unexpected hours. I feel like my love is running on two parallel tracks - one in the zone of 'forever', and another in the 'now'. Too literary an expression? Well, I like reality. But I admire the 'literary' for giving me the imagined; for bridging the real with the dream - the one that I call LOVE.
