Ignorance is bliss, so is innocence

I don't know if u've read 'The portrait of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde...a classic novel...it's about how a beautiful young man in a moment of madness makes a desperate wish... lives his life vicariously and still remains forever young, whole and beautiful while his potrait encaptures the true blackness of his soul, mirrors his sins, grows old, ugly, changes its form, hides and then reveals the true colours of Dorian Gray.

A fantastic idea no doubt... the first time he commits a crime, the change that comes over the portrait is not only physical but there's a subtle change in the overall expression-the hardening of heart, the awakening of vice. And what struck me is, the portrait is actually a reflection of the soul and not merely a marker of the passing of time and age-bound changes.

And why am I being so disturbed by it now? I came across an old passport size photo of mine, taken in May 2002 , fresh out of school before going to college and got a recent pic taken 5 days ago. And what bothered me was not the physical changes, the receeding hairline, the dark circles, the tightening of the corners of lips, the pendulous lower lip(the hallmark of self-obsession!), the acne pitmarks...those are to be expected.

But it was my look that surprised me -the wide-eyed, innocent "everbody is nice and everything is all right in this world" expression that shines through...Good God, how could I be so naive? So innocent, so trusting...don't get me wrong...i'm still one of the most credulous and naive people around but the latest pic clearly has this film of cynicism over it, the "who really cares or gives a damn as to what happens look"...having expected too much and having believed too much in the intrinsic goodness of people once upon a time, now I've come to a stage when I don't really have any expectations from anybody...where anything good is just an add-on, a bonus.

And that's what is painful. Not the gain of cynicism, not the loss of naivete' but the loss of innocence...

The joy is in the falling, not in the fall

As cliche's go, Love is blind is the most obvious ever. I think, love is banal too. Being in love is boring. But falling in love is fun...

Eyes seeking out 'the' someone when in a group; the initial flighty exchange of looks, the intense staring down; daring him to break the glance first, the unspoken words, the telepathic communions, the twitch at the corner of your mouth and the unsuccessful stifling of the smile your treacherous lips finally break into.

The inital distance, the physical awareness, near yet far, the unknowingly clumsy and knowingly unseen attempts to breach that gap, the nonchalant fling of arm against your shoulder, the reflex straightening of your back; the slight touch and the sensation down your spine.
The grazing shoulders, the draft of air, the crossed legs, the restless jiggling, toes brushing against leg, the slow shifts in positions and finally the closeness and the gladness the direct contact evokes.

The increased sense of awareness, sharpened senses, clearer mind, heightened memory, every word, sight, sound, touch and smell stored in your mind, the unexpected remembrance and the overwhelming longing associated with it.

The silly doings, the heady days, the dressing ups, the slightest excuse to stay in touch, to hear the voice and to remind of you, the flipping through photos and encounters for a secret meaning, a private thought, an implied feeling, a missed gesture, a hidden emotion, an unsaid word.

The standing on the edge of a precipice, finally letting yourself go, the joy of falling ( in love; into love) , the feeling of weightlessness before you hard crash to the ground and reality. And then you know, love is dead.
Sounds stupid, I know. Romantic? Maybe. Cynical? Probably.
But think about it. Atleast it isn't a lie.

P.S. "Falling in love isn't difficult but when you decide you want to stay together despite all, you know it isn't easy." -Anonymous