It's the TIMING.... That was Wrong..!

".... Maula Mere Ishq Ka Hafiz Hai Tu... Duniya Se Phir Main Yun Darrun Bhala kyun ...."

She was everything I ever wanted in a woman. If I were to conceptualise a list of ten desired qualities in a woman, She would score eleven out of ten. She was my other half, this uncomprehendingly wonderful being that fulfilled my life, so much, that I sometimes doubted her existence and thought that I had contrived her in a dream. She inspired me, challenged me and loved me just as I was: quirks, flaws and all. She touched my soul so deeply that I was completely vulnerable to her grasp, which was always tender and caring. She taught me what it felt like to truly love someone down to your core; what it felt like to constantly live with a burning desire, so strong that it actually pains you, and She showed me the perpetually engulfing warmth of deep, flaming, impassioned, mad love. She dreamed up delightful visions of our future together – bright enough for both our imaginations.
I loved every element of her soul. What she deemed flawed, I saw as more reasons to love her: I loved her heartwarming stutter when She became too excited about a topic of conversation; that floppy wisp of hair that She could never seem to control; the way She overused the word perpetually when describing her passions; her shyness when wearing her glasses, letting my compliments bounce off her like a tennis ball to a solid wall; the sad smile She made that accompanied a vacant stare when remembering happy memories of a loved one lost; her confidence that was always accompanied by a tiny crevice of self-doubt, a nook that I constantly tried to fill; and her overwhelming passion for life and love: always optimistic, always grateful, always pure and true. Our conversations were energy-filled debates of love and adoration: bursting with the excitement of sharing our knowledge, truths, love and joie de vivre; yearning to include each other in every capillary of our lives.
She was my perfect puzzle piece: an over-thinker, a relentless inspiration-seeker, forever a solitary explorer, believing that life is meant for loving, and happiness is meant for sharing. She loved and took note of life’s simple pleasures, like a steaming cup of tea, aged wine, the smell of old books, the beauty in the silliness of a fit of uncontrollable laughter, the underrated phenomena of a thunderstorm, the crinkles of my nose when I laugh and the unique story to the cracks and pops of a spinning vinyl. She was a down-to-earth woman, taking a liking to the distinctive story behind every object, location and individual, equipped with the remarkable ability to connect with your soul; her presence an eternally rare gift. She encouraged my passions, loving the way I wrote words that I had never spoken, and my constant desire to make them bounce off the pages on which they were written. But She was also was my reality: pulling me back down to earth when I had floated too far into space...

“The timing was wrong.”

She knew me better than I knew myself; She guided me towards a more beautiful life and opened my eyes to a wonderful, dazzling world that She helped create for me. My heart was safely, snuggly wrapped in a blanket of her pulchritudinous love; and so I always carried her with me, wherever I went: in my sub-conscience, in my actions, in my thoughts, in my activities. It was as though we were one, and I was just one half of this amazingly surreal, perfect concept of ‘us’. With her by my side, I felt like I could conquer the world, reach all my goals and dream up inconceivable dreams; but with her by my side, I was just as content with dropping everything for a simple, happy life of togetherness.
I couldn’t love her enough. The timing was wrong.
I was in the winter of my life, stuck in an icicle of numbness: too afraid to completely give my heart, but want to with every fibre of my being. My life was a circulating frustration, filled with demons of the past, and I needed to find myself before She found me. I was hiding behind a mask of optimism, running away from the claws of my emotions. She came into my life at a very fragile time and soon discovered that loving a conscious man is hard work. I wanted simple; however, the new me and the life I was leading was far from simple. I was frustrated with her for the way She made me feel: filled with so much love, adoration and desire that She became a need – an unbeknown feeling to me; and I, like many other over-thinkers and men plagued by chauvinist ideals, was sadly too afraid to dive into the unknown, to listen to her beyond just hearing her spoken words, to mirror the support and respect that She gave me…
I was ill, lost in anger and trapped in my routine, too afraid to admit that what I wanted in life was beyond what I had. I should have realised that I was sick: I stopped writing, reading, watching films, enjoying music, exploring the world that was on my doorstep, and I had lost my hunger for the taste of new experiences – core elements of the man that I am. Drowning in self-loathing, my full glass of frustration soon overflowed onto her, the one person that understood me and the only one I allowed close enough to my heart to be my comfort. I should have painfully pushed my pride aside and accepted that my frustration was caused by my routine, my lifestyle, and my refusal to accept that what I thought I wanted out of life, and the pathway that I had taken, was incorrect.
Despite the fact that She was faced with the toughest time of her life, a time of loss, unwanted change and an unimaginable sadness, She was still there for me; and I was undeserving. She would approach me with love and delight, and I would respond with a blank stare and silent tears creeping down my cheeks – tormented by my own frustrations that I simply couldn’t understand. I could not give her the love and support that she needed, and it leads to a pointless war within. I was not ready for her love, as much as I desperately thirsted to be ready for it....

She was my first love and my first heartbreak....

Life without her brought me inconceivable pain: pain that turned out to be my greatest teacher. It was a pain that represented the few fighting rays of sunshine through the fog of my life; pain that set me on a path of self-discovery; pain that demanded me to keep learning; pain that taught me what it really means to feel; and pain that forced me to open my eyes that had been blinded by the illusion that the distance between us was merely physical and not emotional. Losing her, my entire world and the person I depended on for happiness, was a reality check of note: I was forced to avoid all distractions and take a cold, hard look at myself and finally be honest about my aspirations and how I wanted to reach them. I had to forget about everyone else’s opinions and uncover the truth about how I felt – something I had hidden to make life easier: a demon that I should have addressed before I met her. I had to start creating my own happiness; and wow, what a challenge that has been.
It’s hard to live with should haves and the mourning of unspoken words, unfulfilled moments and future memories left blank. I yearned for her forgiveness, knowing that it wasn’t him, but me. I am thankful for the fact that I was never granted the opportunity to ask for it, due to the high wall that She had built between us, separating the beginnings of her new life from the memory of us, because it leads me to the realisation that I first needed to forgive myself. The heartbreak was self-inflicted, and I will carry the weight of that with me for the rest of my life.
Life after her has been filled with self-discovery, enlightenment, change, a new lifestyle, new perspective, wisdom and new-found confidence. I am finally in a place of contentment and decisiveness: knowing that where I am right now is where I am meant to be. I am now capable of love and support, and I have accepted and grown from the flaws of my failed relationship and its lessons. I am now myself: the man I tried to hide, and the man that She loved, hidden beneath the facade of what I was trying to be. The journey to where I am now has been incredibly tough, but I have somehow healed through rediscovering myself: through writing, listening, observing and living; not in numbness, but in fully immersing myself in life’s experiences. The realisation that guilt is a wasted emotion and finally having the courage to forgive myself took time, six months to be exact, but the freeing feelings of elation, relief and exuberance that followed are what have now come to define me as a man.
Ironically, we are better fitting puzzle pieces now more than ever before, but the memory of the pain I caused her and the knowledge of its compounding nature will forever separate her from me.
It is always hard to choose a tense when talking, writing or thinking about her, because my feelings for her will eternally be unchanged. My respect for that woman runs deeper than the darkest depths of the ocean. We met at the wrong time, and that’s okay. I have come to accept it, and hope that someday, maybe somehow, we’ll meet, enjoy a cup of tea together, reminisce and escape in one last serene moment of shared happiness. Sadly, I cannot tell my heart when to stop beating for the person who has long since stopped listening for its rhythms. One thing is infinitely certain: 

She will forever be the one who woke me up, and for that, I will always love her….

#live.. #love.. #proser.. 
~Abhishek Bose