“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.
P.P.S. The quotes used are of Kahlil Gibran's, slightly modified.
No comments:
Post a Comment