This
is such a good question. Partly because I'm a fool, and as much as Elon Musk
says that engineering is magic, I agree to disagree. You know, even if you
trick your brain into believing otherwise, your heart just denies it. It fazes
me, my heart.
And
if somebody were to come and tell me that they truly understand me, I’d feel
elated. Because it is not as if they have got the algorithm for my heart off of
the internet, or copied the algorithm from somebody else, or that a teacher has
come and taught them it. There’re no
scientific explanations which apply to each and every person, right? We’re
different, and that’s the only explanation. Unconditional love, understanding someone,
is what makes my heart flutter.
Heart,
is where all logic fails. So, I’m opening the curtains wide, and diving for
those desires and feelings which just can’t be explained! Nothing explains this
dreadful feeling of the imminent prospect of taking exams, when I have been
reading Harry Potter all this time. Have I been in denial? Because harry has said, “What
good is theoretical knowledge in the real world, anyway?” so, more like inspired,
right? But he doesn’t exist. Why don’t I get inspired by my teachers?
Nothing
explains this fervent desire for the day to just end, so that I can wash the
dirt off my body. Why? Why is my heart so set on future activities yet at the
same time fearful of it?
And
love? What kind of twisted game is that? What are these feelings, and why don’t
they just go away? Why do I feel bad about something as great as love? Why do I feel guilty?
The blinding sunlight cast the city
in a dizzying and gloomy look, it was sweltering hot. The whitish look of the
sky made Rue keep her head down. Moving through the crowd, she came to a halt.
She found shelter under the shadow of a tree and kept looking at her watch.
Her phone rang, she picked it up.
“I love you.” The voice at the other end said
“What?” She said, completely shocked at the confession.
“I really do. I have been trying to
reach you since morning. I was worried. And it made me want to wish I’d said it
sooner.”
“I...what? You’re so weird. I’m the most imperfect girl
in your universe.”
What is
imperfection anyway? Are the things that pertain to imperfection to one,
perfection to another? Or do they accept these imperfections? Or they don’t
care and just ignore them? How does it work?
Maybe the
answers lie in some psychological jargon, maybe you’ll say that if you love
somebody, it doesn’t matter. Then why does it matter to the other person?
You know,
sometimes even scientific information becomes unreliable because we don’t
understand it. Is it the same with
people when we look at them with bleary eyes? Because I do that a lot, but I’m
also always right about my judgement, but that is just probability, right?
Oh, love! I should
be studying. Signals. Just theory. What explains my lack of imagination in one
sphere of life and abundance in another?
This is
never ending. You get the point.