MAKING OF A ROMANTIC

 

I have failed in love and relationship all my life since childhood. I was a loner, book monger and a melancholic school boy. 

Love meant a beautiful feeling to me, but I failed in being unable to express it with courage. No man must have shed so much tears in love, in self-hatred for failing in live the way that long. No man must have had aches in the heart from being misunderstood in relationship through school days.

My first attempt to confession of a lover boy began when I was in class six. I loved this girl Yuedron, but two weeks after I became friend with her, she left school leaving me melancholic from the beginning of school. She went to Paro with her brother and it took me three decades to see her again. By then we had our own families.

After few months of Yuedron’s leaving, I saw a junior girl and fell in love. It rather was an infatuation. I don’t think that was love. It must have been something of an overwhelming admiration. But I never told her. How can I? I was just a village boy with a hole in the slippers and a patched-up school uniform. This girl was a daughter of Assistant Principal who looked like a princess.

When I reached High School in class seven, I had my first real feelings of love on seeing a classmate. A tanned mate with a bewitching smile, composed and simply attractive. Cheki became an idol until we graduated class Ten. Four years I admired her, loved and and wished she would love me. I failed to confess though I wanted to go down on my knees. We departed strangers. 

When I reached college, I met a girl studying at High school. This time, I got this animal courage to confess. Her acceptance rather surprised me. That was the first time I had a girl friend. But I failed to take a romantic walk, to dine or kiss. Before I could complete college, we decided to be married more by human bondage than by marital need. It was a beginning of a family before anything. The marriage was destined to fail by circumstance of distance and misunderstood opinions of affections. 

Unlike my peers who I watched enviously going on a romantic spree with ease, I was not made to have their luck or courage. Rather, I was always misunderstood even when I knew I loved true from the heart. My melancholic manners left me more with books than girls. Where a man falls, somewhere he rises; his fault in one star gifts him with another to blaze.

I see myself as a true lover, but destined to be mauled in relationships all my life. This experience is what inclined me into poetic emotions, making me write poetry on matter of love with power and beauty. 

If love is measured by how much time, money and luxury I give, I will always fail. If Gods measure it by true longing for love and warmth, I have been a true love at heart. 

When I look back, I see myself much better a man than many. Many men have left many women broken hearted, many men betrayed their women blatantly in a playful College banter. What surprises me is,my flirtatious school friends seem to have a beautiful family life today. Many women seem to accept that all men have stories and so does men of their women. This is a beautiful thing about relationship, being able to love without questions on anyone’s past. It’s acceptance of the past and never relating to it that the journey forward is more peaceful, beautiful and meaningful.