Love is
one-quarter deaf, half blind and a quarter mute. I arrived at this conclusion
after realizing that I’ve never really been in love since my vote became
acceptable. Nor have I felt deafness, blindness and muteness at a fixed
proportion. Though the whole business of propositioning a girl with promises
still intrigues me, I haven't asked anyone out yet. I've had moments that
lasted a few days here and there but I never felt the urge to envision a life
with someone. That's what folks in love do, right? Apparently, it requires
courage and a level of selflessness that I stunningly lack. Not a single night
has passed by when I couldn't sleep because I was thinking of someone. Nor a
day has greeted me to shake me off my daydreaming spree. Maybe I’m too idealistic
for my own good. Put in a sentence, my idea of love is simpler because it
doesn't prescribe to any condition and is bereft of pretensions. It doesn't
require someone to be something. It's either there or not. Almost all my
friends turned cosmic-eyed when they confessed they had feelings for someone
they never ended up with. That never happened to me. Too much exposure to
Manchester United, poetry and existential thoughts can do so to anyone. In
unrelated news, not very long ago, a friend of mine told me that I’ll never be
happy because I bask in my loneliness. The exact words were "How can you
be so consumed by yourself?" before my mind-screen went blank. All I
remember from that conversation is a concerned voice. It didn't belong to me. I
was three-fourth blind and a quarter mute.
