Always a dreamer, I have, ever since I can remember, been fascinated by metaphors, symbols, poetry – in short everything that is not “useful” and “practical”. There’s something beautiful about finding meaning in banal things, something magical about letting one’s imagination enhance the significance of ordinary ideas – a disposition which would probably make the more worldly wise shrug their shoulders with indifference. Each to his own, I guess – but a playful remark from a dear colleague set me thinking about a whole lot of things – from ideas to metaphors, symbols to meaning and from love to flowers.
Destiny mostly always ensures that opposites attract – inevitably making diametrically opposite people cross paths. In our case too, destiny played her part to the hilt. Here we were – two individuals with almost nothing in common except for that feeling of abiding warmth for each other that we call love and the genuine desire to build a life together. We soon embarked on our journey as a couple, going along with the ebb and flow of life – understanding each other better with each passing day.
Gradually the gloss fades away, reality takes over and you see one another as you really are – without the rose tinted glasses deluding your eyes. Everything soon surfaces – the minor skirmishes, some annoying traits and stubborn habits – even making you wonder at some point – what it was that brought you together in the first place. But what keeps you going is the dogged determination to make it work, to keep the spark alive, to be there for each other unconditionally. It’s then that it strikes you that love is about loving the imperfections too – about adapting, giving in, and paradoxically, even about expressing your desires – those little fancies that matter to you.
One such fancy that’s always been close to my heart is about being wooed with roses – in keeping with my impractical bent of mind. Somewhere along our journey together, I did express this silly little whim to my life partner, knowing well that he did not share the same sentiments nor attach any significance to the act of gifting something as temporary as flowers. But then I guess love isn’t about agreeing on everything – it’s more to do with making dreams come true even if it means deviating a bit from one’s own inclinations.
So when a lovely bouquet of pink roses arrived at my office on Valentines Day, I was floored – yet again – much to the amazement and skepticism of some. Knowing that the roses are going to wilt in a day, what’s the point of a gift that’s not going to last as long as say – a more “permanent” object would?
But as I see it – no object is really permanent. Everything wears out, depreciates in value or simply becomes outdated in the super-fast modern age that we live in. But the moment lives on forever. The pretty pink roses more than achieved their goal – amply served their purpose. They conveyed eloquently – without resorting to words – a sweet intention of bringing a smile to my lips, a selfless joy in making me feel special. Despite their transience or because of it – they expressed a love that was eternal – that transcended all conceivable limitations.
The roses will live for a fleeting moment in time but the memory of the moment will remain etched in my heart – their fragrance captured forever in my soul – to continue beyond the realms of time and space to finally merge unto infinity.