Laal Ishq – Arijit Singh
[Part 1]
As I write this seated on my chair, underneath a warm-lamp on the table which puku generously gifted; Adele’s ‘Make you feel my love’ loops over and over, gracing the entire room in every piano strokes and with every words sung.
I like it here!
Now, this thing I’m going to deduce for you is gravely unpopular. Perhaps disturbing too, especially if your sweet brain is serotonin stoned — by virtue of all these meaningless, well-orchestrated Valentine’s day holy gawd rituals.
So, I don’t recommend reading any further if you absolutely dislike my idea of ridiculing how our love has been commercially manipulated and sold to us.
Happy Valentine’s day my gigantic lovebirds!
. . .
Mum explains,”Valentine’s Day are for amateurs. Because, the real ones,… a true, deep and meaningful love requires all 365 days of everyday trust, support, understanding, care, and appreciation, and gratification and above all else the awe-wonderment despite few un-intended frictions; despite few wrong turns, despite every worst things that can happen; despite death.” On hindsight it looks more like a practically impossible vow to make as well as to keep at par but behold, it’s true. Isn’t it?
Which is why, I wouldn’t trade one particular day for the rest of the other days in my mortal calendar to make the love of my life feel really, really, really special. No!
F#%$, No!
Despite. Regardless, I’d like to practice open-mindedness.
Compulsively! Deliberately. Lovingly.
And, so, I really don’t despise this so-called love slash romance day-of-the-year for all good intents and purposes.
It’s just that I’m not much of a fan of St. Valentine’s death day.
[Part 2]
It’s time, we cut all the bs thrown around ‘love’ narrative.
Which unknowingly, I’ve been a source myself of many such pompous jargons, in many, different occasions around my journey with pen and papers.
. . .
It’s time, we love from the profundity of gentleness, and stop buying into these expensive forms of love-business abstractions;
It’s time we save our ‘love’ from being sold
over superfluous gifts and ephemeral pleasure gigs,
over hard-to-keep promises and esoteric vocabs,
over inorganic tales, talks and triumph stories
like Valentine’s itself.
Because,
at last, love is merely a language, a calling, an expression and the literature of souls.
And, to love truly and fiercely is to have a courage to sink in, pour out, befall and fall free,
without any brush of influence, expectations and artificial pressure
but merely, merely a WILL to give and share
every fabric of your being,
your whole Life Project in every smallest detail possible.
Tonight, give time. Save roses!
Share experiences. Be present here and now.
Celebrate togetherness. Rejoice mortality.
Don’t inflate love. Let love exist.
Suspire.
. . .
On an ending note: The great Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard although never married, anguished for years over the existential personal puzzle of love and marriage. To which, he transformed the question into a revolutionary book, Either-Or
In the book he writes, “Marry, and you will regret it; don’t marry, you will also regret it; marry or don’t marry, you will regret it either way. Laugh at the world’s foolishness, you will regret it; weep over it, you will regret that too; laugh at the world’s foolishness or weep over it, you will regret both. Believe a woman, you will regret it; believe her not, you will also regret it… Hang yourself, you will regret it; do not hang yourself, and you will regret that too; hang yourself or don’t hang yourself, you’ll regret it either way; whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both. This, gentlemen, is the essence of all philosophy.”
Happy Valentines once again!
(Giggles)