Longing for love

I was at King's Theatre in Washington DC and completing my 100th TED TALK. I was extremely nervous. I couldn't recall the speech I was about to deliver in a few minutes. It was happening to me for the first in those so many years as a TED speaker. I was already obnoxious, drenched with sweat. When the blonde host called out my name to welcome me on the stage, my entire body started shivering uncontrollably, and my brain was occupied with unsettling negative thoughts only. I could see the end of my public speaking career. Those 5000 people in the audience would not be happy wasting their valuable time hearing an underconfident speaker like me. My teeth were clattering eerily, which could be heard at the last corner of the conference.

I crept slowly over the stage, my heart was beating like a drum, and all light was focusing on me, making the audience lost in gloom. But continuous murmur made me feel their presence. I was blank already; I must be speaking on the topic: “Longing for LOVE.”

The impatience in the audience made me more vulnerable for a moment I thought to give up. Neither my brain was ready to cooperate, nor was my body. I started mumbling whatever came through. The one story that I prattled to innumerable people in countless ways. It started vaguely and dreary-

Love is an essence of life--my mom used to say. It sounds bland until it has felt. My mom had never got her part of love from the person whom she loved by her soul. So, she knew how beautiful love could be. I realized it when Max came into my life. Now my mom’s definition of love would seem more intricate and beautiful. Max was always special for me, and tanginess in his talks was my treasure. He had an athletic physique, curly hair, and emerald eyes. His Indian brown skin texture looked like Cappuccino, I felt like swallowing him up at once as my morning coffee. I had just started realizing the heavy definitions of love I read in all those romantic novels. But it was my own filthy luck who could not owe me happiness. My luck had always been my enemy: when I started liking my stepdad, he left my mom; when I got selected for an inter-college badminton tournament, I broke my leg; when I got chosen to play Snow-white in an annual festival, dark and fat pimples grew up on my face at the very last moment and now Max. He had lost his interest in me; I was always a typical middle-class girl who doesn't like to wear pompous makeup or short dresses. Neither I enjoy going to pubs because the smell of alcohol made me puke. 

Even I felt myself becoming a hurdle in his life; he was a pub lover, adventurer, and more interested in the girls who would show their body parts boldly and carry themselves as an asset to the world. I had broken completely, but I didn’t cry. I was mad at the way I was, but I didn’t change myself. My heart ached badly, but it didn’t stop pumping.

I was a typical girl indeed, but I was not weak anymore. I knew my values and my importance to the world and my family. Well, I assumed it was my failure to teach him to see the love the way my mom taught me to see. I moved on, reassembling my broken courage. I knew, if today I would stop myself thriving, my end would remain just a cliché. Love is the gift of God. I knew if I could not value myself, then not could the world value me. I would not change myself but build myself stronger. I decided to challenge my every fear. Anyways post the departure of Max from my life, I realized one thing your fears scare you until you face it.

Until then, my legs had stopped shivering, the vibration in my words of fear was gone, vagueness from my mind had cleared. And, I stood more confident and proud in a TED talk that became impromptu for me. The audience was as silent as they were gone. I would rather say it was a miracle as I got their ears today rather than getting rotten tomatoes upon me.

So, my good audience, you saw how my pure love ended up in the debris of faith and selflessness. Never let yourself down; if your love is more demanding, then free it to go. These materialistic things are meant to be sacrificed, not you. 

“What would you do if Max wants to get back in your life?” a young, sharp, and deep voice came floating to my hear from one corner of the inconspicuous room. 

I paused a moment gave a deep breath upon the question of the audience. 

“It seems like he has not a very good chance,” I replied with an effortful sigh because lying always made me edgy. The boundless love for Max in my heart was forcing me to say: Yes, I will welcome him with my arms open. But I took the call of my brain to answer his question in a more sophisticated way. Deep within, I knew Max would never be going to come back in my life. I became more confident now, but I was still the same typical girl, neither wearing shorts nor going to pubs and parties and drinking alcohol.

“Then prove it, mam… Your love was real...” the young gentlemen again croaked in the darkness. All of a sudden, the lights that were frigid on my face had stopped and focused on the man sitting in the audience.

The emerald eyes came lively when bright white light focused on his face; a ripple of nervousness flew through my blood. I felt the sensation going from my head to my toes. As I described his physical appearance very intricately, the rest audience didn’t take a minute to recognize Max. A wave of excitement came in the audience; they started hooting and clapping. My legs were heavy, and so was my breathing. I was still imagining him as my morning Cappuccino and thinking of taking a big slurp of it. He gently hustled the chair back he was sitting at and started heading towards the stage briskly with small steps. My heart was pounding. I thought to abscond, to avoid meeting him, but it was not a viable option. He directly rushed on stage and peered soo deep into my eyes, and so did I. The audience was rejoicing our reunion as the burbling grew louder and louder. They were seemed to be happier than we were. He gently embraced me and I couldn't stop myself-

I was mad at Max lately when he told me there was peanut butter in my sandwich, which I am allergic to, which made me sweaty and anxious. I was happy even though he made this blunder intentionally to make me remember him only, not the three pages of speech. He had become mature, but his mischiefs were the same as a sophomore guy.

Eventually, I realized one thing with my life experience what Henry David said-

Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder..."