Sitting across from me in a crowded cafeteria, is how I remember you. Your laugh, the sparkle in your eyes were nothing I had seen before. Something about you called out to me. You looked towards me and smiled. Our first eye contact.
You are looking at me with those same mischief laden eyes. I falter, turn right and take my seat. Tomorrow, I will try again to sit beside you. As the professor enters, I turn to look, you are listening to your friend’s whisper and look up. Our eyes meet again.
Several failed attempts at courage, thousands of shy eye contacts later, we become friends. You share everything with me. But I keep my feelings to myself. Others tell me I am a fool. Maybe!
It was raining that day. My troubled heart just couldn’t muster another “I’m fine” smile. I look at you, preparing myself. You smile. Our eyes meet, and I tell you how I feel. You break our eye contact.
Nothing has been the same since then. I knew things would change, but it’s magnitude overwhelmed me. I realise you are staring at me. I smile. I have never been so happy in life. My days end by looking into your eyes.
Days pass by, each season brings out different colours in your eyes. On some days your eyes are bright like sunshine, some days they are misty like the rain. Nowadays though, they seem darker with each passing moment. I am finding it difficult to meet your eye.
You called me last night. I am thinking back to the time I first saw you. Those memories make me shiver. I look at you. You are saying something I cannot understand. I now know, it is not enough to get lost in your eyes. Bracing the truth, I leave. We will never see eye to eye, never have.
This not my story. This isn’t about a guy, not about some girl, neither is it a love story. What it is, is a metaphor. Metaphor to the phenomena people call love. People who think they are in love based on a perception they have of the other person. That perception shatters and so does the illusion of love, when they really get to know each other. When they realise that the person they love is not who they thought them to be. And then, it is love who takes the blame. Who is put to shame. The changing seasons, changing eye colours are metaphors too, for what follows in such a relationship. Love is blind? No. We love with our eyes wide open. And then we fall face first with our eyes closed. We stop seeing the reality for what it is. We imagine things as how they should be. Love should be blind. Love should not be based on somebody’s eyes, hair color or their smile because love is never vain. It should be more, so much more. It should be as they say, blind.