Wednesday, February 18, 2015

When Juliet Fell in Love, Again.

“That whose ears love has not yet caressed, do not hear when it comes calling; that whose eyes love has not yet blinded, do not see when it arrives on its winged carriage”. What follows is not meant for their eyes and ears. They may work out the maze of black and white strewn over here and navigate the labyrinth of my emotions articulated through language but such untoward beings will not be able to decipher the whisperings of my pulsating heart not clad in words. But pray, do such men exist whose souls have never been enveloped by love? Do such men exist who have never worshipped what love did to them? For, isn’t love the elixir of all life that is?

And who better to sing the praises of love, high-wrought love, than me? Who better than Juliet? Yes, in love I am- violently, as is my wont.

It all began ten years ago when every young lady with a heart that could beat fell in love with him. But Juliet’s love is no ordinary love. Their love- love that sprouted out of the attraction towards all the fame, power and material pleasures that were to be his or out of infatuation with his oration and wit are no comparison to this love of mine for him- pristine, unselfish love; love that was perhaps born in the almighty’s lap and gradually trickled onto here dollop by dollop with the night’s secrets. I know he is married and his family is the picture of a family that is as happy as any could be but that doesn’t bother me. Juliet’s love for her beloved will not grow more with reciprocation or diminish with rejection. I have never intended to possess him; I don’t need to. Didn’t some great poet once said, “it is limited love that asks for possession of the beloved; unlimited love asks only for itself”? That’s precisely the nature of this love of mine.

You may ask what all this will amount to- self destruction perhaps, as Juliet is known for. No, I declare. You may choose to call it destruction but to me it is spiritual exaltation. In all my senses have I draped myself in this wreath of thorns by choosing to declare my love for the most powerful person in the world who, I know, can never be possessed. I know I’m headed nowhere but being the mistress of the White House has never been an object of any interest to me, let alone desire.

I don’t need his attention; I don’t seek his acknowledgement. I only want to make him realize to what extent a woman can love a man. I want Mr. Barack Obama to know how much Juliet loves him. I want him to understand that Juliet loves him “more than a poet loves his sorrowful thoughts, more than a devotee worships his Lord, more than a mother loves her stillborn child...”

Will you be my messenger?

P.S. This entry was written in a creative writing contest for the topic 'When Juliet fell in love with Barack Obama." Yeah! :D
P.P.S. The quotes used are of Kahlil Gibran's, slightly modified.

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