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Posts Tagged ‘love’

Certain events reminded me

of this funniness I once wrote.

So I called up K —  he told me

of she he was with no more;

So I asked him about the circles

And he said he’d come a full circle.

For some reason that makes me  sad.

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Conversations, news and movies inform me that it is pretty common for a person to say bad things about his or her ex. I have always found that practice mystifyingly alien. It is not that I necessarily have any moral objection to saying such things; just that I cannot ever imagine myself doing it.

A part of this attitude has probably to do with my general distate to voicing private matters in public, even to close friends. But a lot of it also has to do with pride and self-respect; it seems to me that it is impossible to say really bad things about someone you were close to for an extended period of time in the past without disrespecting yourself. How can you today badmouth someone you loved and respected in the past without implying that your judgment, taste — in a sense your entire existence then — was in some fundamental way flawed or false? I mean I see that people can feel pretty strong negative emotions after a bad break-up but still… I simply don’t get it. I don’t think I can ever publicly put down or even strongly criticize anyone I had been together with for a reasonable period of time; however acrimonious the break-up, however hurt I were in the process. Maybe I am just weird in this way.

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The film reminded me of a Bangalore classroom years ago. Me and this-girl-who-was-not-yet-my-girlfriend were communicating via notes scribbled on paper. It was supposed to be a study session of course but when have such details dampened the excitement that comes with the early stages of a romance?

Come to think of it, I am pretty sure I still have those notes somewhere (I no longer have her).  And if I remember correctly, we not only communicated about our lives and likes in that furtive hour of under the desk note-passing but also about less likely things like Camus’ The Outsider and the social characteristics of young Indians. Heh.

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Below is an abridged translation of the Habanera, currently my favourite song in all of opera.

When will I love you?
Good Lord, I don’t know,
Maybe never, maybe tomorrow.
But not today, that’s for sure.

Love is a rebellious bird
that nobody can tame,
and you call him quite in vain
if it suits him not to come.
Nothing helps, neither threat nor prayer.

The bird you thought you had caught
beat its wings and flew away …
love stays away, you wait and wait;
when least expected, there it is!
All around you, swift, swift,
it comes, goes, then it returns …
you think you hold it fast, it flees
you think you’re free, it holds you fast.

Love is a Bohemian child,
it has never, ever, known law;
If you love me not, then I love you;
If I love you, you’d best beware!

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As I was watching the opera today, it struck me that there were some remarkable similarities between the character of Carmen and a person I loved a long time ago.

I was thinking of this just now and suddenly remembered that her cellphone ring tone used to be the March of the Toreador. She really liked the ring tone and googled it up one day to see its origin. And that is how both of us heard of Bizet and Carmen for the very first time.

Update: While searching on Youtube, I discovered this very cute video:

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In view of certain recent events, it seems appropriate to re-post this wonderful video.

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It can’t be the coffee.

I was really trying to sleep — lying down, waiting for thoughts to leave me in the same way they do every night, but they simply refused to. This has happened in the past when I have drunk a cup of coffee too late in the day. But why today? I am fairly certain that a small cup almost twelve hours ago cannot be responsible for my thoughts veering, suddenly and completely unexpectedly, to her. Not her — who took me so much longer to get over — but her. (Not that the distinction is very important, for I almost never think of any of them these days anymore. I did somewhat more frequently about three years ago, and this old email must have been the result of such a sentimental moment. But these days — perhaps once every couple of months.) The only explanation I can imagine for this unexpected occurence today is that Rat’s presence may have struck some forgotten corner of my subconscious memory.

So I lay down and thought of random things. A little bit of Bangalore, a little bit of Agumbe. And you know how memories are. Some disappear some amalgamate in a free flowing manner without commas or discipline.  We were lying naked together, utterly contented in the moment. Boating and Aromas of China. Many smiles some tears.

Many of my memories about her are concentrated in those last three or four days which contained some of the most beautiful moments of my undergrad years. Strange how it all just ends. I don’t remember if I told her how much I enjoyed those few days. If she is reading this, she would know of course.

But as I said, I rarely — almost never — think of her anymore. Or her, for that matter, or even her. And those rare occasions when I do are surprisingly correlated with late hours like these when I should be sleeping. Instead, here I am typing things of little interest to my readers and which I will probably think of as embarassing or unnecessary the next morning.

Time to make another attempt at sleep. Even if I can’t, I’ll resist posting any more poorly written, rambling descriptions of times I spent many years ago with ex-girlfriends who I am no longer in touch with.

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