dont read this.

Stories are like a canvas which break through the private prisons of the mind and bring out the deepest of thoughts using paint of the imagination. Ordinary feelings take life on this plain, infinitely long sheet of beige felt, using brushes of the finest hair from mystical creatures that exist only in the mind, threaded together with wisps of dreams, edged on scented rosewood more delicate and fragile than a sliver of glass. The canvas is built of what we are all made of and what makes us human. Light brushings of color with carefree rapture blended with the deep scarlet of passion and the well watered solidness of trust and loyalty. Love has its own patch on this vast, unending canvas. One would think that emotions like love are pure and free from the greed that is likened to human nature, but when they look beneath the paint; barely noticeable splotches of dark that bear testimony to the times of jealousy and the rare hurt that go along with every relation that has ever existed in history.
Its not perfect. But it’s a canvas woven from dreams and its beautiful.
This is a story about a boy and a girl. This boy and girl built a canvas together which was a little unconventional. They were a part of a relation that one reads about and weeps at in the movies but they were ordinary who never ever expected to be a part of something that is not supposed to be reality.
Since it was reality, their story did not end the way it does for characters who cry out feelings to please an audience. Not being actors in a stage play, they hardly knew how to deal with such weighty emotions. So they think maybe putting it out on a canvas will help reduce the burden but at the same time seal in their memories forever. They don’t want to let go of each other. Not just yet.
When I think of that girl, the word ‘naïve’ comes to mind. That girl, who wrapped up her heart in a ribbon and presented it to him as a gift that was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. That boy- was maybe not a boy because he wanted to be a man. Desperate to prove his worth to the world, forced to grow up earlier than he was supposed to, he convinced the girl, he was ready. Ready to take on her responsibility, responsibilities that come naturally while growing up and ready to shoulder whatever it was they were jumping into. And as he told her- he could take anything, they could take anything because and if they were together.
Her heart was in her eyes and in her chest beating like the gigantic wings of a swan, so full of longing that it startled and embarrassed her. She dared not look at him, for fear that her heart would speak volumes through her eyes and that he would not understand the vastness of her feelings for him that confused her so.
She had been told by so many, the fear of commitment that clings and hovers like a sticky gray cloud on to every boys mind. She was afraid that he would be blinded by the fear that the sweet freedom of bachelorism he knew, would disappear with her appearance in his life. She knew that summer love was fleeting and like the heady mists of sweet perfume spray would disappear once settled on to skin. But she also knew it settles in all the same and it becomes a part of the skin forever. She was scared. Scared of losing him but at the same time-
How to tell him?
How do you tell anyone, that they mean more to you than anyone in this crazy world? In this world where you are SUPPOSED to love your family more than you love anyone else, in this world where you know your parents are SUPPOSED to be right and in this world where a first love is never SUPPOSED to last. In especially this unconventional love, she knew she was SUPPOSED to listen to her brain and not her heart.
But why did she forget? Why do we all forget? Understanding comes as the canvas unfolds; she was not to be blamed. Love is blind.
And she loved him. His hand shifted to cover hers and he willed her to look at him. He leaned closer until she thought she would go insane just inhaling him in. It was poetical, it was romantic, it was happening and it was perfect.
And the boy? The innocence of her touch and her blazing eyes overwhelmed him and he felt himself falling harder than ever. Drowsy silence was saturated with unspoken promises and he leaned forward and whispered what seemed like the sweetest of music to her. The Earth gave way and he told her he loved her. Suddenly, she was walking on bricks of air, floating in dreams that were now her reality and she heard the angelic choir that springs up whenever love is claimed.
Nothing else mattered. Nothing except love and hm. She had known nothing else before him and what was there with them now and nothing that was to come after could not have him.
He could not have said no.
And so they went on. The few brief moments they had together were spent in every way to make them perfect. Messages of love after every ten seconds, hours to say good night and the first to wish a good morning. Everything was measured, but everything seemed to pass by so quickly. Everyone else seemed to coo when they saw them together but they were oblivious. Oblivious to whatever was around them except for each other.
But then time happened. She had to go back. Back home, just a few miles away from him but then so many hurdles. But she was not scared. She believed him, believed in them and that they could face whatever life gave them,
They had parted but the promise of love remained.
But was it even love?
For her- yes. But for him?
He who had an array of ambitions set infront of him. He who was working his way through life like a buffet table striving to choose between the , multitude of choices, tasting this and that and deciding. He could not see a future between two clashing cultures. But the future was far off and love was waiting.
For this was love. No doubt about it. It was what everyone had talked about. When your whole world suddenly compresses and takes form in one person. This is what every great writer, director and musician had tried to express to the world. This was happening. They could hardly believe it was happening to them.
Atleast for a while.
Then it happened. Her dreams that had seemed so divinely light and real, became airy fluffs of cotton-candy. Wisps of nothingness. She had believed in everything that could happen and it had all been beautiful. Something did happen but it was far from beautiful.
The canvas began to smudge.
Fear of commitment, fear of the future, all things that had been put aside, pushed to the back of the mind, became a nagging thistle in their story. Believing ridiculously in the notion ‘love conquers all’, the imitation of love, the famous stage show mime became a reason to be hurt. She was ready to give up everything. If he wanted her.
If he would love her.
If he was ready.
If it was so simple.
Too many if’s. It didn’t work
He disappeared.
She could tell you about the pain. She could tell you about the nights that left her screaming into her pillow wet with tears that just wouldn’t stop. She could tell you about the medication that followed and left her drunk on most days.
But she won’t tell you. Because she believes that he misses her too. That he also is going through what she is. That he still loves, that he is waiting and that he is what he wanted to be.
In dreams that grew more scandalous with every night, sweet kisses turning into an affair of lust, she found herself growing closer to him. She would wake up and feel as if she was still in the dream. Because she wanted to be.
But it was reality.
Poor little girl. Not so little girl. She needs sympathy but she wont take it.
Poor boy. Not so little yet not so grown boy. He has so much on him. He can take help. But he wont take it.
They will themselves to get over it. They try hard day and night to forget about the other. But what a strange annoying prick love is. It won’t finish until it has run its due course and finished the hearts that fuel it. For love can take hurt again and again, like bullets through breaking hearts but it cannot race against time.
If he comes back now, they can continue. If its too late. Then atleast they’ll have the canvas with them forever.
For the canvas is beautiful. It is everlasting and despite the splotches it is..beautiful.