In Search Of Happiness

In Search Of Happiness

I held her hand tightly like a crocodile holds on to its prey even as she got up and brushed her dress in preparation  of leaving. Her hand seemed to be the last and final strong of hope and happiness, and I certainly didn’t want to let it go. This was the best time of the day, and it was drawing to a close.

We discovered a corner in paradise every single day of our lives in each other’s company as celibates. We only had to hold each other’s hands to be in heaven. The contact was enough to usher an ecstasy through our bodies. It was enough to propel us to the seventh sky that hosted the Holy Quran on Shab-e-Qadr. We inched closer to each other every day while we shared a park-bench. We discovered a secluded place in each other’s hearts that was reserved for the other everyday while on the bench.

The bonhomie between us had been discovered by our parents courtesy our inquisitive and curious siblings. Our parents didn’t appreciate of us getting closer than the next-door neighbours we were.

Our intimacy was sponsored by the fact that we were classmates. We often met on the pretext of exchanging notes, and no one could say anything against it. We were great friends and on the way to being something more than friends. The only problem was that the path was punctuated by religious differences. We were in search of a love-guru who could dissipate and negate the differences between us. The differences were pronounced quite loudly when a soul mate was sought for her from the community she belonged to.

This was when we realized we were in love. We needed each other’s company as someone needs the shade of a tree on a hot and sunny day. We never knew how and when each of us became the other’s strong need. We hadn’t realized we were in love till now. We were determined not to let go of each other’s hand at any cost.

But we had to let go of each other’s hand when our destinies declared themselves superior to love. We realized we could never be happy after causing the displeasure of our parents who had cared for us. The idea had to be dropped. None of us felt like the protagonists in a Hindi movie who dare all social norms and trends for the sake of love. We were headed for the same destination, aboard the same boat, but the boat had suddenly run into rapids. Our love was like an iridescent soap-bubble that threatened to burst up when someone touched it.

There was a policewala standing before us reminding us of the late hour and the inappropriateness of our romantic adventure in a public-park. I quietly let go of her hand and rose to leave myself. The park-bench had been the rendezvous of many of our furtive meetings for quite a few weeks. We were aware of the dissonance our meetings created in the minds of our parents, but we were not prepared to let go of each other’s hands.

We felt something like what freedom-fighters must have felt when they revolted against the British government in the early 20^th century. We were desperately waiting for a Gandhi to fish us out of the chains of slavery that bound us to our rigid and orthodox ideals and religious values.

The policewala yawned and stretched out his arms like someone watching the same movie for the hundredth time. The sight of young couples canoodling on a park-bench was certainly not a novelty for him. Only a part of his diktats fell on our deaf ears. Here was someone eulogizing on the positive points of the arranged marriage he and his parents had had. He seemed to be convinced of the failure of our alliance even before we tied the knot. The truth was that our love-story was headed for the doldrums.

We could do practically nothing to save our love-story from being immortalized like another mummy from Egypt. There were religious and cultural differences that punctuated the yawning gap between the two of us. the Indian society does frown upon a married couple who hailed from different religious communities before marriage, although it smiles when it sees young boys and girls hanging out in public places like McDonald’s, KFC and Pizza Hut. Nothing can ever change the mentality of the Diaspora. The important point is that the youth do it to be happy, and they do discover some happiness with each other.   

There has been a severe dearth of hope and happiness in my life. I wasted my youth in academic pursuits. Destiny pushed me in company of several issues that shall continue to haunt me as long as I live. Her company gave me a chance to forget all this. I wanted her company for a lifetime. This added to the set of reasons why id didn’t want to leave her hand. I wanted to keep holding on till my last breath. She seemed to be capable of filling in all the blanks in my life.

Interestingly, she wasn’t willing to leap the fence to be a part of me. I tried to explain things to her, but she seemed to be adamant on sticking on the religious credentials she was born into. Her upbringing in an orthodox Hindu family was what I should have considered before falling in love with her, but one seldom weighs pros and cons before falling in love. Love is something that happens by itself. No amount of logic and reasoning can ever predict if two people are to fall in love. There are absolutely no points one considers before falling in love.

Love is believed to have the power to change the world, but it certainly could not change her orthodox mindset. We were headed for the same destination aboard the same boat, but we were looking in different directions. It is essential for both parties in love to look the same way for the boat to sail smoothly to the shore. Her reluctance to leap over the wall of religious differences was what pushed our love-story to a fresh nadir every single moment of our lives.

I consoled myself with the thought that not all love-stories have a happy-ending. I’m sure she will find as much joy and happiness in her husband’s company. I shall also find some with my wife.

The policewala was correct!