Friday 30 October 2009

What is love?

What is Love? The eternal question, I'm no great philosopher and I'm not here to bore anybody with my perspective of it. Its about sharing.....
Today as I finished buying the bare necessities with the bare minimum I had left, and as I crossed the steep Abbey Bridge I saw the bus stop that was at the end of the bridge. On the cold and chilly night and bogged by at least 6 kilos of weight on me, I remembered how nice and warm the bus stop feels. The light in the bus stop that makes you feel you have superior vision than the people walking past you as you feel your cones(for the people who are ignorant, the cells in your eye sensitive to light) working excessively in the strong white light. I could feel how much comfortable the chairs inside the waiting area was, as its a thermally controlled area which in turn makes the seats go warm. When you are cold from walking to the bus stop the immediate sense of relief that brings to you as soon as you step into the bus stop. Ah!....

Anyhow, my eyes wandered onto the lady sitting in the bus stop. She was of Mongolian origin as her facial features hinted. She was wearing a black coat,skirt and knee high boots. Her jet black hair softly framed her face. As each car that passed by, her hair swayed and danced a bit to the music and rhythm of the whooshing air as the hair finally settled on her face. She would push it back with her fingers ever so softly and tenderly that would perhaps hint at her timid and soft nature. She waited impatiently for the bus and she kept peering at the street earnestly wanting just to see the headlights of the bus and she would be at ease. She would force herself on her toes and tilt forward and see, and sigh every time she realised that the bus ain't there. Of course her sighing would not get the bus to the stop faster, but if the bus driver had seen how impatiently she waited for the bus; I bet she would have stepped on the gas to make this lady all smiles.

As I walked past the bus stop, I realised why am I observing this lady so intently? Am I so weird? Is it our nature to observe so much?....? While a quarter of a million questions passed my mind i realised and settled with the solution that most suited and appeased my thinking. Yes. I am in love. Not in love with the lady. Not in love with her impatient wait for the bus (No am not that sadistic, yet! ). Not in love with her beauty. It was the whole picture that I am in love with.
The grace with which the lady carries herself off, waiting at the bus stop, her elegant features that made me notice her from across the street but intently, the sense of unease that prevailed for her bus which I guess all of us share...everything. Its a matter of correlation I guess. On a normal day you fall for a person when you think, "Oh! His ideologies are just like mine. I think I'm in love". That much is usually all the tempo that is required for one to fall in love, or at least to get the ball rolling. Here, similarly I could relate so much with the lady at the bus stop that it was love at first sight..of the entire picture.
For me I guess that's as close to loving at it gets. Love the picture. Love the game. :)