Was The Real Love Story Really Real?

By Arpita Guru

I was in deep sleep when I moved my hand to cuddle you. This habit was sort of deeply embedded within me  that I kept on actioning consciously or subconsciously. That day, my hand was in vacuum, and I woke up  shocked, felt like sudden creation of a weird void. It was 9 am, 3 hours late than my scheduled waking time, I  missed my work out that I loved doing - What’s happening to me? I tried getting up from bed, rubbed my eyes,  and saw suitcases laying all around in the room. And then, my eyes hooked on to you packing your stuff, and I  realised I was really sleeping, and the weird void started making sense to me.  

You came to me, sat beside me, hugged me, and planted a kiss on my forehead. You said, "I was waiting for you  to wake up, I had planned to leave early but saw that you couldn't sleep properly yesternight, hence didn't  disturb you. It's now time for me to go, please take care sweetie, achieve all that you are aspiring for. Goodbye."  

GOODBYE – okay; No cliche closing statements like 'I love you' - okay. I guess I was finally in my best senses and  came back to reality. We were breaking up.  

As you got up to head towards the door, I couldn't control and held your hand - bas thodi der aur, phir jaana hi  toh hai. Unginat yaadein hai, par filhaal kuch chand palon mai bayaan karna hai.  

As I held your hand, I couldn't help but wonder, how your fingers that perfectly filled in the gaps between mine,  are now so tangled that we need to let go of each other's hands to unmesh it.  

Do you remember how you said that there's nothing called as a perfect love story but a real love story that we  will keep on narrating till we are together - that ‘together’ which will be nonexistent in sometime.  

To begin reciting, I wouldn't start with we met at a restaurant, party, school or college, it was the most unusual  of the places – we met in a mental asylum.  

I was already 3 months into therapy when you were enrolled. I wasn't doing much well even after constant  efforts by the asylum personnel. But there was a stark difference, as they describe, in my response and behavior  after I grew close to you. I was starting to actually forget my name because I was known more for my illness.  But the way our conversation began, there was nothing about past, there was nothing about why we are here,  there was nothing about which departments of the asylum we made rounds of, but it was all about a pure bond  that started blooming. Kaafi unreal feeling thi, pyaar k liye dil k jo darwaaze humesha bandh rakha karti thi,  mehsoos hua ki wo dheere dheere khulne lage the.  

Our dates were neither in any lavish restaurants nor home balconies, they were in the cozy corners of the  asylum library. I know words are important for a conversation but only when you know how to speak them.  Since both of us were bad at it, our silence spoke more than words ever could. The silence converted to whispers  and I could recognize the syllables with how your tongues and lips rolled - it was our kind of secret  communication that none but only we could decipher.  

You entered my life like an elixir just at the time when my soul needed it. I was beginning to forgive myself for  being so harsh on me because you made me believe that scars are beautiful. I was beginning to forgive myself  for my utter disbelief in me because you made me realise how important I am for me. I was beginning to forgive  myself for not recognising myself because you made me feel worthy.  

Suddenly when things had started happening according to me, it was 12 months down the line that you decided  to move away. The doctors declared you fit and it was time for you to go. I thought, I expected that you would  stay for me so we can go out together but perhaps things didn't channelise that way. As I held your hand, I asked  for the last time if it was the right thing or should we give it another try. You just looked at me and smiled. A  relation that began in silence is perhaps closing in silence.  

You left, you finally left, and the door closed.  

It's been 5 years and I am still here. People here say I was talking randomly to myself, they say you were my  comfort version, you were my imaginary companion. No matter how hard I try, I just cannot comprehend what  they say. And now, I don't even try. We signified togetherness, how can you be the one - the deluded version or  whatever they say - because that's completely opposite of the truth of what togetherness means.  

Anyways, I am still waiting for the door to open, and for you to come in. I still work out and visit the library. I  will be here till you come to take me away. Afterall, ours wasn't a perfect love story but a real story.  

~ For all of your information, the protagonist in the story was suffering from Schizophrenia which is a mental health condition. As we recently  observed World Schizophrenia Awareness Day on May 24, let’s together try to eradicate all the stigmas associated with mental health, spread as  much awareness as possible, and make this world a better place to live in. ~

By Arpita Guru