“But they were perfect for each other,” I wailed. I was not happy that they had called off their fondness for each other. Could anyone ever call off love? It wasn’t a switch, as far as I knew. This situation was incorrect and I refused to acknowledge it. Fourohthree agreed, nodding. “They are perfect for each other.” She reiterated, emphasizing on the present tense of the fact. We were having ice cream –comfort food to deal with the news. Would there be no more witty jokes cracked by her accompanied by his booming laugh? I shuddered at the thought.
He was the moon to her sun, orbiting her under the pretext of orbiting someone else… anyone else, but at the end of the day, all he wanted to do was to orbit her.
She was the star. The sun is a star, after all. She was fiery and strong and spurned whoever came too close; that whoever however did not include him. He was the cool to her ardor, the calm to her thrill, the sliver of silver to her gold. Their team was perfection, if you took the entire demographical factor out of the equation, but then 150 million kilometers is chickenfeed. What did mushy love know of distance?
I have always believed that the hardest people to come across are people who are kind to you. They are the people who make time for you, who make up silly stories to see you laugh and who are willing to have babies for you, even if they are men. They are the people you must hang on to… no matter what.
I did not understand how anyone could give up such a person, once they found them.
Who was I kidding? I did understand. Us, women: We are perfect in everything except when it comes to men. Men may be rumored to be simple, but the emotions they cause in a girl are not. Put the most sensible woman in love, she’ll resurface as a breakable, vulnerable and befuddled lady. Who would ever want to be in that situation?
“She does have a point, though.” I told Fourohthree, as I took another heaped helping of Vadilal’s dark chocolate. “What if it doesn’t work out in the long run? What if it becomes messy and blotchy and ugly, later?” She looked up and with a look that made her wise beyond her years, said, “And what if it does work out? What if it works out spectacularly?”
I looked around for my magic mirror that enabled to look into the future. I did not find it. There is no magic mirror. Love is largely a gamble. Life deals you a hand of cards and much like poker; you can either fold or play. If you fold, you might be safe, but you won’t ever win. You’ll sit at the bay line and watch someone else win. It’s better to play. Play shrewdly or naively, but don’t stop playing.
This universe has a mind of its own. It creates at will and destroys at whim. No amount of planning can ever stand a chance in front of the universe. All you can do is to have faith, believe in idiot-luck and respect every sign that indicates that you’ve found someone awesome. The love story between the moon and the sun may seem a implausible one, to the untrained mind. But it is also the most breathtaking love story one can ever hope to see, and one which should be fulfilled just because it promises to be so stunning.