Have I told you about March?



What is March to me is a far better question than who is March? Do I know march and how do I know march are even better questions and quite frankly I can’t answer the later duo, simply because I do not know the answers to them. March is an enigma to me, a bewildering and mind blowing puzzle. The truth is that she never existed and if she did her existence was more ethereal that the mirage in the mid-day sun. She exists and she doesn’t at the same time, She is and she is not at the same time, yet she persists like a ghost upon my memory, entangling me into the abysmal oblivion of not knowing who she is and why she came into my life and whether she came into my life at all or is it all nothing but the delusions of a deranged mind?


Any story or any sentence about March must be abstract and shall only be abstract not because I intent to protect the identity of an otherwise domineering public presence from stigma but because she is as elusive to me as she is to you by these abstract words. Her existence for me is just as abstract and doubtful. There are times I scrutinize my sanity for what had happened that fateful day when destiny played the tune of fate going rogue.


I saw her, her eyes pierced into mine like the splinters from a shattered shell. Hungry for vengeance they struck me deep and painfully in the depths of my tattered heart. I cried in unheard agony when the heavens itself must have turned deaf that day. Then she smiled at me her smile spreading inside my body like death upon a famished being and bestowing me with a warmness of the ultimate awareness. Alas disappointment again waits for me, the most peaceful of seconds ceased to exist soon enough as all good things. She came and she went in a fragment of time that was far too small that between dream and reality the lines began to blur.


The truth is that I do not know whether I had lived through March or not, I do not know whether March is an enigma or a truth like the lives under the sun. But what march was and what I know March to be, is that march is the beacon of light from a domain unknown that signaled to me that all is not lost and life is yet to exist. March showed me in the twilight between life and death, between despair and hope, between dream and reality that my destiny is yet to be written and my gardens of love are yet to see the spring.


More From this Series : My Long Love Story
January
February Part I
February Part II

My Long Love (His) Story : The Tale of January

‘The Beginning’ or as I like to call it ‘The Tale of January’

There are no preludes, no forwards and certainly no prologues. But maybe, just maybe I will add an epilogue. Sure I will add an epilogue. How hard can that be? Right? So here is my little long love story from the beginning, I mean from the very beginning.

The first time I ever fell in love with any person or got anywhere close to being in love was at the age of ten, eleven perhaps. But even before that I was associated with girls but that can only be classified as the ones I liked or the ones my friends liked to associate me with. The problem can be rather simply be stated as I had no idea what it was to be in love. What can you expect out of a boy whose age is less than ten and all the ideas about love that he has ever had has been fuelled by movies. But when at the age of eleven I met this girl (let’s call her January), I knew it was something different and altogether ‘out of this world’. But things with January where not that easy and not to mention that I was totally an amateur in the matter of relationships. I must confess that the years that were to follow where enough to realise the rather accomplished stalker in me. But it took me over four years of conscious effort to gather the courage to speak to January. Even after that I was scared to hell of losing her by my one off handed remark. Things looked good or at least from my perspective it did to me. At the end of the fourth year I was so much into January that I and January was like… Hmm… Republic Day and January perhaps.


Then came the judgement day, the day I was to propose to her, I am not going to give you much insight into the way and manner of my proposal for the fear of being prosecuted and thrown to the deep pits in hell by the other sex in general and may be some rather too romantic males. But I did propose and I did it as sweetly and charmingly as I could, given the immediate circumstances and the strange and unaccounted seismic activity that persisted through my body the whole day. But through broken words and longs sighs and a trembling hand I did propose and was in elated to a land beyond heavens when January accepted it with the sweetest smile I have seen on her beautiful face. But fate has other plans and trust me it makes twists that makes most fighter pilots throw up. The next when she met I knew that something was wrong and she came to me, stood next to me looked me in my eyes and said “My mother says I can’t and so I can’t”. It took me some time to gather what she meant and before I could say anything she was gone and thus In a matter of less than a day my love life had experienced both success and heartbreak and with that ended the month of January and the first love of my life.

I can’t tell it was a total mayhem, but there were lessons that I could take from that one experience, of course I was too heartbroken to see anything at first and I imploded into myself for a long time and trust me February was not such a short month as it would seem to some people. My life from then took a lot of using to for my friends, but these days are the sole reason I started writing. I would never have risen had I not fallen that badly. The lessons from that one day took me over a year to learn and as each time I relieved that which is still do but with significantly less frequency, I learned a lot and I will leave it that.



The epilogue as I promised commences. One must understand that if I took the initiative to call my first girlfriend as January then there must be others to follow, Hence you need not look furlong for this long love story has a marvelous ending , one that ends in its own merit. No matter what happens and what angel one meets in his days to come the first love of his life shall forever be remembered. The days I spent dreaming of our future, the hours I waited for her sight, the seconds I spend with her and the whole world that danced to the tune of my romance. I remember each with a gratitude that is unassertable. If this story does has a happy ending, it is she who made me see it and if I never had loved January I would never have realized the love of my life when she came in friend of my eyes, I would never have understood what her smile signified and what her manner conveyed. It is with the sincerest gratitude that I remember our days or rather my days and our half a day.