Very few people get lucky enough to meet a man or woman who loves them for who they are; fewer so get to meet someone who loves them despite of who they are and in spite of who they were expected to be. Such is the story I would be fortunate to tell about The H.
Many years ago while sitting with a group of friends in an adda session, I had noticed a couple exchange knowing glances between each other. I saw them smile at each other, the smile was not just on their lips but in their eyes. The beauty of their eyes and the light in their eyes far exceeded the dying light of the day and was brighter than the neon lights being turned on around us. At that moment I had thought to myself, this is what I want when I am in love.
Love has come pre-packaged with so many terms and conditions to our generation, so, it is very difficult for us to be really simple in our expectation of Love. We are heavily influenced by Bollywood actors romancing their lovers and looking deeply into their eyes and singing lyrical ballads to them. The similar and yet different effect of Hollywood is of the tall, fair and handsome man with sexy hair and dreamy bedroom eyes, driving the coolest car or a bike or a Fighter Jet, sweeps the woman off her feet. They serenade you, they offer a shoulder when you are down, they whisper sweet nothings into your ear and boy can they make love to the sweet background score. There is also the awareness of the heroes in Literature and romance novels who always say the right thing, in the best poetic language and despite all the trials and tribulations the lovers always meet and find a happy ending.
Can one man ever beat these superlative heroes? Although one is aware that this all makes falling in love an ultimately disappointing affair, I can at the expense of sounding clichéd, say having married The H., I fully realize how my expectations were limited in nature being born from fiction. Because in real life The H. supersedes, exceeds and pretty much leaves my expectations so far behind that sometimes I just have to stop and bent down and rest my hands on my knees, breath in and out heavily and then slowly, to let my mind come to terms with what happened with me.
It is true that it isn’t fair to judge a man based only on one or two instances of brilliance, but I have found when on different pages with The H. remembering the little “exceeding of expectation” moments he created it becomes a lot easier to walk a mile in his shoes or at least try it on for size. For the bad days that one has if one can remember one good day, then in the end life finds a balance.
Finding The H. has been one of the good things in my life. And the reason I write this is because a few days back The H. divested his trouser pockets of 9 toothpicks, the ones you would be offered at a restaurant. I was surprised and laughed at him for bringing that home. It took me sometime to understand the significance of his action. It is these little gestures that make me smile just when I thought the day was dreary and grey. Why do a bunch of toothpicks make me happy? Well, there are some things that remain private just between me & The H.