Let Me Love You Eternally, My Love!

Love is a journey, but sometimes it is more about missing the train than catching it.

Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash

“Please don’t go! If you really love me, just hang in there, fight your cancer for me, I will take care of everything, don’t leave me all alone in this world! Or else, I will think you never loved me.” She sobbed almost unstoppably at my bedside. The poisonous chemo dripped continuously into my vein, but her words felt like nectar.

“No, that is not true, I always loved you, it’s just that I never told you.” I wanted to hold her hand and tell her, but the words were lost somewhere within.

She looked at my face for a second, tried to decipher my lip movements, but couldn’t find anything there. I knew she was not very good at reading eyes, so letting her read them was futile. I closed my eyes. The doctor was on round. She tried to normalise her countenance.

The kaleidoscope of our life started reeling in my mind. Ours was a typical Indian marriage, so to say arranged marriage. We believed more in love after marriage. Of course, things are changing now to marriage after love with a lot of globalisation in every walk of life. I was a 24-year-old robust dashing soldier of the Indian Air Force. She was just 18 when I first saw her in her drawing room. Her aura and looks made me stand up unconsciously from my seat. I almost forgot to blink, a Barbie doll was standing before me — a beautiful, fair young lady with curly hair, a thickly braided lock falling on her right breast reaching below her waist. That was the first time I loved her. Believe me, it was love at first sight. We were allowed to converse separately in a room for a few minutes. I did not dare tell her that I just loved her. Maybe, it would have been a breach of etiquette, and I was supposed to be a gentleman, you see.

“I don’t know how to cook.” She hesitatingly announced.
“Never mind, I am there to teach if you want to learn. I am fond of cooking.” (By the way, that is true!)
“I want to study further.”
“Done!” (Though a little late in life, she completed her M. Phil, a big curse to circumstances, but heartiest thanks to God!)
“I love to travel.”
“In that case, you are seeing the right man, my job is such, you see.”
“Now, do you want to ask me something?” That was the first time she looked directly into my eyes.
“Nothing as such, just one thing — Is it a yes from your side?” It felt like the result of my most precious job interview was going to be announced. I waited impatiently.
“Don’t know, parents will decide.”
“Oh yes!” I almost jumped out of joy. “I will take care of that and the rest.” I felt like dancing. She looked at me and smiled. So, she announced and sealed the appointment, of course in her own ways.
“Whether we get married or not, I want to tell you something, never get fat, you look so elegant in this shape, I hate obesity!” The IAF bodybuilder chuckled jokingly at that moment, maybe my heavyweight, probable would-be mother-in-law’s figure flashed in my mind. But let me tell you, she kept that always in mind, she is still the same weight of 52 kg at the age of 50. So, we got married.

We were going to start a new life. It was our first honeymoon night. By the way, there was no dating thing in vogue those days, so obviously again we were meeting just a second time. Before I could make any moves, she spoke.

“Can I ask for something from you?”
“Of course, I am all yours.”
Can we avoid sex for these days when I am with you?”
“That is really tough, but why?” I was a little surprised, rather shocked.
“Actually, my final year graduation exams are commencing in four months and I don’t want to get into any complications.” She either could not explain the rest or did not have words to do so, or maybe she wanted me to understand it on my own. I started thinking that only fifteen days of my vacation were left, then God only knew when I would return. Kargil situation was getting worse with every passing day. But I loved her, not only her body, but every single perceptible and non-perceptible unit of hers, every piece of her existence was mine as a whole.

Though, to be honest, it was a very difficult decision, I respected her desire.

“Done!” We both were tired with the tedious rituals of marriage. I kissed her forehead and let her sleep peacefully. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the need to tell her that I loved her. “What is more important — loving truly or telling?” I argued to myself.

Next fifteen days we had an absolutely marvelous honeymoon with all kinds of intercourses except sexual. Then I returned to my unit.

Time flew by. Life returned to normalcy. She graduated, we fused and became one, but it had been five years and we were still childless. Doctors gave her a clean bill of health, but I had very less sperm count with not so appropriate motility. Science at that time had made very small progress in this field. Sex is a 60% mind game, 40% physical. Moreover, procreation needs animality. I slid into depression. That made the situation worse. But she stood like a rock beside me. Besides all emotional support, she supported me physically too, keeping my confidence of so-called manliness alive with no complaints whatsoever. She was reciprocating my love in a true sense. I once again asked myself, “Do we really need to speak those three so-called magical words? After all, who are those people who need to hear this? Can love really exist without mutual care, respect, and trust? Is it not about giving unconditionally?” Of course, a difference of opinions won’t hurt me here!

Today I am 55, suffering from cancer for the last four years. All these years, I loved her from tip to toe, from her skin, flesh, blood, bone to the beauty of her heart, mind, soul and virtue. I loved her smile and smell; I loved her love, lust, look and laughter; I loved her anxiety, anger and annoyance, but without telling her. I wrote poetries on her, she read them and just smiled. She never demanded more, never was dissatisfied with less. A pure simple lady with no artificiality.

But the last four years have been really devastating for us. My disease has made her run from pillar to post with no respite in view. She had never given up in life, but now as if her patience has reached its threshold, so has mine.

My oncologist arrived. I was supposed to undergo my fourth surgery at the earliest. He left helplessly after informing us. It was expected anyways. I opened up my iPad and asked her to read my poem I had written just two days back. When she finished reading, I smiled at her.

“Not a good one, I know, but please smile for me as you always do.” She tried and in doing so, she looked weird but content. I was relieved.

She always loved me. Despite being a strict and religiously pure vegan, she cooked the finest non-vegetarian delicacies for me. She saved secretly for our rainy days and never let me down when times came. She presented herself to me in the entirety of her existence unconditionally.

I always loved her. Like an animal, I licked and smelt her. Like a Goddess, I worshipped her. Like a child, I cried in her lap in despair. I still do. When she is there, I am complete; when she is not, I am lost!

“Let them cut me a thousand times into a thousand pieces, but I will not die, I will be there for you forever because I love you…!” I wrote it many times in my verses, but said it finally.