Pritam's Blog
I Was Never A Sentimental
I was never sentimental about anything. It was probably because I had had a precarious upbringing. And that killed me in my childhood. I didn’t know what living meant.
For me it was just breathing; and ‘just breathing’ doesn’t need one to have sentiments. That’s why I never committed suicide. For I had nothing left in me to kill… And I didn’t have sentiments.
But I had hormones. And I needed women. I needed to ‘fall in love’.
And falling in love was easy. It was being in love that was difficult, for man needs body, and woman needs soul. And I didn’t want to share anything that was left of it. I wanted to keep it for myself. How was it supposed to work? Yes, even the dead needs to have a soul, a little bit of it, to survive…
But then I met her. And she said, “You are emotionally damaged beyond any repair… You are self destructive… You will die any fucking day. But I like you. Unfortunately… And I don’t feel like letting you go. Let’s not make any promise. Let’s not make plans. Let’s just pretend to be in love as long as it’s possible…”
And I don’t know when I stopped being pretentious.
My love for ‘just the body’ died. And I became sentimental.
I would stare at the brassiere she had left hanging from one of the hooks on the wall, or I would think of her, looking at the pair of shoes at one corner of our living room, when she wasn’t here, even if it’s for a day. I would miss those late night conversations we had about all the food joints in Bangalore, or the conversations about old lovers while walking down the stinking corridors of a hospital with her. I would miss the hugs, the arguments, the laughter… .
That’s what love does to you…
Yes, she taught me to love: love accidentally, unapologetically, hopelessly.
And to live…