Six months back, if my cronies would have asked me, do I love someone, I would probably have screeched a loud YES-yes, yes, yes. I love Daniel Radcliffe. I have loved him since time immemorial. Five months, 3 weeks ago, I had abruptly shifted my loyalty towards Sheldon Cooper. It was love at first sight. Since the first episode of The Big Bang Theory, I had fallen hopelessly I love with the character Cooper. Unlike Harry Potter, I had never tried to find out about Jim Parsons. I do not intend to know who he is. The prospect that a person other than The mighty Sheldor himself possibly breathes eats and lives the same way as him is magnanimously outrageous to bear. The uncanny humor, the raucous presence of mind and the raw, innocence of unmeant humility that he so characteristically showers upon his betrothed friends is unprecedented in real or imaginary history. I had devised a new and seemingly unreasonable way to fall in love-ignorance (and simultaneous bliss). Five months, 2 weeks and three days ago, treading on a similar path, I fell in love with a pair of unembodied eyes. I use the ostensible adjective here, not to imply any hallucination, rather meaning a very commonplace condition that I am unaware who they belong to. Further incomprehensibility would diminish if I mention that I saw a pair of eyes visible from the top of a laptop screen. I could not see anything beyond that, and now that I come to think of it, I find myself substantially thankful to the stated arrangement of circumstances. An all-seeing, all-drinking and all-saying pair of eyes. Nothing since the eye of the Bavarian Illuminati has something similar to being called an ‘eye’ has made as great an impact on me. But contrary to what one would predict, instead of making me feel scared in awe, it was by some means enlightening, one way or another drawing me to a bout of un-deja-vued self-assurance, self-irradiation and self-conclusion. Exactly 3 days later, a voice of unknown origin made me follow it. I know my mom would dilate her eyes in fear at the mention of this, fearing it to be some kind of ghostly apparition intent upon raking her daughter in its copious girth, but no, this was different. It was profoundly human. Defacto, the sheer ordinariness of the voice was what held the unparalleled charm. It seemed free of all vices, a voice pursuing joy in the celebration called ‘life’. Raw, nude, prickly. A voice that is self-affirmed, jovial, and thus alluring. I do not seek to find out the quintessence of the voice, nor the possessor of the former lure. I do not even wish to discover whether both the virtuous chattels are the possessions of the same keeper. I find myself becoming lissome at this very thought, and nothing, undeniably nothing, no knowledge neither realization could parallel the waft engulfing me thence.
And so as my li’l ball of fur would say : I TOLD U THUSLY, I SOOOO TOLD U THUSLY!!!!
[ps: the article written above is a mere work of fiction. Any resemblance, in whatsoever way, to any place, person, condition or group of individuals is purely coincidental.]
