Cupid the sound of the very word when hits the ear drums clouds an image of an innocent figure. Cherubic features cast on a baby face, armed with his archaic bow & arrow loaded with his invisible love potions is what my cupid looks like. Yes, my cupid. Why I say that he’s mine because he is the only one who has been loyal all these years while I was struggling with love. I met my cupid the day I deciphered the word “LOVE”. I knew I had come of age, so did the meaning of love. Nineteen is considered the stage of mature teen when you are neither a teenager nor a ripened adult. Handling love at such a tender age is too big a responsibility, but enjoying its beauty & smell seems easy. The little lioness was young, open to the dazzle of the cupid’s plan number one.
Love struck, cupid smiled, his arrow had pierced the core of the heart. No escape! I fell in love with a synonym of cuteness & beauty. A hunk, 5 feet 11 inches tall, honey dipped crystal brown eyes, an intoxicating smile that flashed a small dimple underneath the right corner of his lips. He had a personality that was so charismatic, so luring and definitely so much mine. Cupid had justified his act by aiming two arrows at the same time, one that pierced a stream of soft sentiments in mine & another at whom I looked with a twinkle in my eyes. Life seemed illuminated with millions of flames & there were fireworks all around. Totally absorbed in love, soaked in its sweetness & wrapped in my hunky’s arms, I felt blessed, with a happy in my belly, my heart jingled. But the heart didn’t knew, that the jingles it sang was soon to turn to cries of pain totally unbearable.
When first love left, life came to a stand still as if perfectly paralyzed by pain. Seeing your man at a crossroad where even your hardest effort cannot bring him back, kills the even the bleakest desire to live. Years run with skates on their feet. Pain subsides; time plays the pain killer with a promise to the soul that your hunk will figure flash as your best friend. Heart clings on to the last hope. One fine day cupid appears on the scene with plan number two. Waives a hi! But this time he doesn’t use his bow & arrow. He sprinkles an invisible potion. What is it? I ask. Cupid whispers…robber, last hope & then disappears. My happy birthday minus happy is spotlighting the calendar. Here I am girl, your best friend, I will drive all your sorrows, pains & unhappiness away….I am here for you, only for you. And you know why because I will sham to be your friend & will leave you hopeless. Hey girl! I am a brute less thief, save yourself if you can. The poor me, took the cupid’s whisper lightly & didn’t understand the warning. With no one around to lend a hand i had my shocking fall. Hopeless, shattered, bruised and lost. Blinded by darkness, my eyes lost the sight of the mild shimmer over my curly hair. A faint shadow of the cupid with sugary sliced out words said, look up…I have some one waiting to be your savior. I don’t want to look up cupid. I can’t, my tear laden eyes just can’t. There is nothing that my eyes would relish. Cupid’s image grew fuller, clearer and more audible to my ear drums. I want you to allow a man into your life, a real man, honest and true. He is the man who would understand you, with whom you would share your life’s darkest secrets. This man would be a replica of you. But he would be more mature and ripe in terms of years from you. An extension to your very self, he would heal you & will be your smile reservoir. He may be a little irritating at times but I know that you can handle that. This new man’s incessant lecturing made me give him a unique name. Mr. “B”. Cupid visits were now frequent; use to ask me every time, how’s Mr. B & you? Mr. B on the other side of the technology gave a little comfort. I said he’s fine & me too. Cupid was busy executing plan number three. With more smiles in his basket cupid started spending more time with me. His enquiries about Mr. B were scaling high. I never understood what cupid wanted but his ways made me suspicious of him. My victimized heart that had turned stone was melting. The man whose appearance in my life on one side helped me pull out of the quicksand of pain was silently roping me into the Marina Trench of the unknown questions & sadness. Least aware of the cupid’s plan number three, my heart was drifting towards this 6 feet 2. Mr. B had a life of his own with portcullis so strong that no one could enter. The dungeon reserved for his woman.