He was different from every other man she had ever known. Yes, both of them were in relationships before, but this was a different experience. For both. They both knew each other for long and had gone out together on several occasions. Whether it was their age or whether it was their innocence was not clear but they never lost their composure when being in the midst of friends/ people. She had a man and he had a woman. But they had a bond. That was evident.
It wasn’t till years later that they spoke to each other in a way they always wanted to. Conversations were minimal. After all, actions spoke louder than words.
She was amazed. How could two people come close to each other only to make love but have no intention of falling or being in love? Was that possible? Ofcourse it was! Everything was possible for them. They were two people who loved treading the less taken paths and breaking rules!
Staying together was the rarest of luxuries. It hadn’t happened many times and it wasn’t to happen many times. But the first time they did, he hadn’t slept too well, rubbing her shoulders distractedly every few minutes. And she’d slept curled in his arms with eyes that even when open spoke nothing but of secrets hidden safe.
Waking up early, he’d ordered tea and taken it to her, willing her to wake up. And she did. The tea sat on the table while he made love to her as if he hadn’t seen her for eons. Later he’d woken up to find her missing in bed. With a panic that refused to be curbed, he’d almost leapt up to rush out looking for her. But she was in the same room, sitting on the chair reading.
Noticing the movement, she’d looked at him over her book. And as if continuing a conversation that had been suspended, she’d read to him in clear tones words that rang true in the light of dawn breaking.
“All men are untruthful, inconstant, false, chatterers, hypocritical, proud, cowardly, contemptible and sensual; all women are perfidious, artful, vain, inquisitive and depraved.” She must have skipped a few lines for the pause was a thoughtful one. “But there is in the world a holy thing and sublime, and it is the union of two of these so imperfect and so dreadful beings.”
Pausing she’d looked at him through eyes softened by the sincerity of the words read. In her voice, proud and arrogant led by knowledge of acceptance, she’d read on.
“We are often deceived in our love; we are often wounded and often unhappy, but still we love, and when we are on the brink of the tomb we shall turn round, look back, and say to ourselves: I have often suffered, I have sometimes been deceived, but I have loved. It is I who have lived, and not an unreal being created by my pride and boredom.”
And with perfect knowledge of imperfect mankind and in their superiority of knowing and living life in terms that scorned the weakness by a name called love, they would make love again.
Their fears hidden from the world just like the bond they shared.
