छुपा लो यूँ दिल में प्यार मेरा
के जैसे मंदिर में लौ दीए की
Hold my love in your heart, the way
a temple Holds the glow of a lamp
I am not a good translator. You know that already – addressing those, who have followed this blog for a few years. This is the best I could do.
There is a love epidemic; so prevalent in this world; it demands to be loved. It’s, if I may call it, a misdirected epidemic. There is so much transaction of the purest form of human connection; it’s almost pathetic. It’s so much fun to love than being loved. It’s freedom! The unshackling feeling of being in love. Give me that any time. Being loved is a task, an effort, an exercise. But to love? It is a way to be free.
I love you.
And nothing else matters. Being with you does not matter. You being mine does not matter. Having you with me doesn’t matter. Nor does you having me. Being able to love you, beyond the shackles of time and space, in the infinite space of imagination: that is, how I love you. Love is good; we love, as and when we can.
Never ask anything of it, however.