I was in love

          With her life was joyful. The most mundane things were suddenly exciting. There was a purpose and a reason for my every action. Waking up to her warm body and even warmer smile was all I needed;nothing else mattered. The gifts we gave, the feelings it bought. The surprises we showered each other with, the kisses and hugs. This was how life was supposed to be. The rainy days were the best. We spent the days in bed cuddling and doing sweet nothing. Her constant need to be coddled and cosseted, her eyes pleading for it and her sweet mumbling for me to take her in my arms. The sweet love we made and sweet nothings we spoke about. An entire lifetime would be planned in the span of the day. All our dreams were shared then and there and we knew it really didn't matter if those dreams came true or not, we had each other.

         She had begun to learn to cook for me. She wasn't great at it, but I didn't care neither did she. We were not bound by society or by family. She loved me and I her. We didn't look for acceptance by anybody. In fact nobody except the security guard of my apartment complex knew about her. She would come to my place in the morning on her way to work. We would spend the morning together after which she would head for work and I sat down to write something that I could sell. On week ends she would cook up some reason or the other and be there first thing in the morning. I never felt what I felt for her with anybody else. Her absence drove me mad. I had to have to see her every day. I had to feel her body against mine. I had to feel those moist lips on mine. I was in love, madly in it.

          We had met online. I had initiated a conversation with purely carnal intentions. And that is how I thought it would be. I did manage to get her out on a few dates and one day we were in my apartment. She was ready as I was for her. As we made love in the moonlight' I saw her eyes, those beautiful eyes, soulful eyes and I think I had some inkling of a thought that said, this was to stay. This was the woman. I called her the next day and the day after and every day after that. I itched for her every attention, constantly looking at my mobile phone for a ring or a beep that would be her thoughts about me. I longed for her caress, for her sweet smelling presence around me. Her tantalizing breath inflaming my soul and stirring in me feelings I had just discovered. I craved her touch. I was addicted to this woman. I was in love.

          We decided to marry. Not for society, not for family. We decided to have a ceremony to celebrate our love. We decided that our wedding was a ceremony that would symbolize our eternal love for each other. And so we did it with friends and family as per her traditions. She was the papa's girl and she wanted her papa to do the honours of placing her hands in mine. We were now Mr and Mrs. She was now mine. I was in love.

         4 years had passed. The love was as strong as ever. I still longed for her tight hugs at the end of a tiring day. The intensity and passion mellowed down and from it emerged a much more stable and strong caring sort of love. The kind of love where you give up the best seat for your partner, you cover her during the chilly night or make sure she has taken her medicines. The gestures changed, the life style changed, the priorities changed, the love never did. I secretly often thought at how lonely and miserable I would be if something happened to her. The mind is a twisted thing. It thinks the exact thought you never want to think about. Maybe it wants you to be prepared for the worst. And then it happened. A rainy day that we should have just spent like we did the old days, cuddled inside the comfort of our home. She had gone out to buy the household necessities in her new scooter. It was a scooter that she loved so much and both of us had saved up quite difficultly for. She lost balance when the scooter went into a pothole and slammed her head on the pavement.

          The phone call from the hospital actually gave me relief rather than despair. I was worried about her not having reached home and her not picking my calls. I even went looking for her with no result. The hospital room in its white hues. The green bed spread and a mask over her face. I forced my mind to believe everything will be alright, for fear of a bad though influencing the outcome. I held her hand and waited for her to wake up and say she is feeling ok. I was in love.

          It had been 7 years. She had gone on. Where to I don't know. I ride that scooter now. I still stay at the same house. I still sleep in the same bed. But the scent is not there anymore. The warmth is long gone. I cook for myself. I live in the memories of the best years of my life. I was still in love, hurtfully in it.