"IT"

‘It’ was on. Confirmed. 

All the modalities in place. The mere thought of ‘it’ was heady. ‘It’ brought on a reckless light-headed high. ‘It’ made omnipotence a reality.

She had woken up earlier than usual, the thought of ‘it’ consuming her mind and spirit. The early morning cool and freshness were a blessed relief, more so as they were a harbinger of the dusty heated day to come. The sweet bird songs and redness of the flowers in the garden against a backdrop of tender green brought on an unconscious much needed break from obsessing about the ‘it’, though unsought and hence, unheeded.

She was always mesmerized by words and lived a life in her head. Their beauty and syntax conjured up a blissful world in which she could escape the routine of daily living. Words could evoke an immense passion in her or move her to tears and ecstasy. He had sent her snippets from time to time and she had rather enjoyed the surprise at the end of a boring and tiring day. Gradually the frequency and intimacy of their correspondence increased, and she began to fret when too long a time had passed without receiving a message from him. The notes that she had exchanged with him had unleashed a torrent of emotions; they had swept her off her feet, captivated her, and enslaved her.  She was enchanted, under a spell, a magical high, a miracle.

She had everything going for her, yet she felt an emptiness at times, a boredom with a routine which was never ending. Then what again? Until when?  ‘It’ had brought about a remarkable change in her. Made her more daring, garrulous, and carefree than she usually was. ‘It’ became the focal point around which other events evolved and other appointments were scheduled. ‘It’ assumed an unsurpassable significance. Nothing else mattered except for what ‘it’ promised - the perfect meeting, a soulful intimacy, an imagined kiss which would send the soul soaring with complete abandon. The flights of fantasy!

She agonized over the possibility that the rendezvous might be cancelled due to some sudden occurrence – the hand of God waiting to punish her, and she prayed for lenience and understanding. The anticipation was piercingly exquisite, and the preceding days passed in a haze. She was excited and filled with an undefinable anxiety.

She had a conversation scheduled with him on the phone, the other partner of the ‘it’, the secret rendezvous. The anticipation was piercingly exquisite, more so than the actual conversation itself; but then, when one has made up one’s mind to conjure up an imaginary reality, everything could be tailored to fit in. She hurried to finish the necessities of living in anticipation of the conversation.  All her senses were attuned to the sound of the call tone, the other distractions dealt brusquely with minimal thought.  Then the phone rang, she picked it up on the first ring.

He could not make it, he told her. Something unforeseen had come up and the rendezvous stood cancelled. Her fears had come true. He was very vague about continuing the relationship further. The tone of his conversation was strangely distant, ‘you’ and ‘me’ took the place of ‘us’.  Words yet again. They continued to haunt and crush long after they were heard. His words which had previously so enthralled her now seemed insincere and empty. Why had he sought and crushed her? What was it that he had wanted?

She was possessed by a stunned disbelief.  Fate had reached out its cold firm hand yet again to smother the flame, which had been rekindled, and stomped on the embers to put it out without a trace.  The high on which she was blithely floating came crashing down.

After the initial numbness came the sorrow for the loss of her euphoria. ‘It’ was no longer there to sustain her. The ensuing days passed in a haze of tears, disbelief, and self-pity. But then self-preservation kicked in, the human race had perfected this skill to save its bumbling denizens.  She acknowledged that when it was futile and painful to hold on to a mirage it can be let go, however powerful its perceived allure. The magical relationship that their exchanges had promised and which she had painted picture perfect was revealed in its shortfalls and misconceptions. Her mind knew this long before her heart could accept it.  But ultimately it did, gradually and painfully with a lingering regret. Being valued and cherished were in reality much more precious than the thrills and highs of romantic love, notions of which were fed by one’s own imagination and want. After all, “it's our imagination that is responsible for love, not the other person.”

She started to notice again the simple pleasures of everyday living around her- the joyful play of the kittens, the strains of a familiar song, the anticipation of reading a book, the satisfactory completion of the days’ work which gives meaning to the ensuing rest.  ‘It’ dimmed away after extracting its toll on her for the grave error of assuming enduring passions.

But, it was a kind of relief eventually, an immense relief , not to wait for him to complete her circle, not wait for ‘it’ to happen, not to live in a virtual world of her own creation, to be independent of that fanciful obsession. It was better, she bitterly discovered, to sail smoothly on calm untroubled waters than to be swept away on crests, which inevitably dissolved into troughs. She resolved to renew conversations and nurture her friendships; to cherish the kindness, care, and affection bestowed on her in all the tiny details of life, to notice it, appreciate it, and fill her soul with it; to reach out and attain a completeness by herself and not wait for anyone to fill it. 

But then, a calm always precedes a storm and if, ‘it’ in another form manifested again, could she fight it given her penchant for passion?!