Al Ngullie
Hallelujah for all cardiac surgeons and skeptics! Only a lucky few manage to fall in love. I did once (my ‘once’ actually means innumerable – pure trauma style na), like two millennia ago – and triumphantly composed this only-one-line “song” in my joyful heart: “Finally, my heart can stop worrying about medical bills!” Admitted, this song figured every time a so-called “soulmate” found my butt a desirable target practice object.
Anyway, too bad for Cupid and very good for medical practitioners. But too bad again that my most hope-filled song, in the end, always managed to splutter to a painful stop – and I mean really painful – reminiscent of a horse expelling its morning quota of lethal fart accidentally after tripping over. Falling in love can have your medical bills soaring up the solar system (some Aerosmith thing from down south Seattle sang ‘Falling in love can be hard on the knees,’ remember?). Once your most beloved sweetie suddenly finds you ugly, unwanted and undesirable because her ticker ran out of battery when another fresh hunk of meat popped into her world, your heart is smashed into pieces, your hopes dashed, your dreams popped, your self-esteem blistered and finally you remain scarred for the rest of your life. Now that’s injury big time. No wonder medicine is such a lucrative career. MMuuhahahahahahahahahahaha!! *Mischievous grin**
(I wonder why some people can have fresh tickers ready for every person that happens to pop around with cool and stuff. Why do we hate? Why do we not care?)
What is love anyway? Well, I really don’t know but who cares? What the serious bloomin’ Jupiter, I don’t care any more as long as I’m in Nagaland! Why? Because there are no good Valentine’s Day cards and properly wrapped roses, but affordable ones, to give my sweetie! That’s why!
Anyway, whatever, the only thing you know is that painful wave the inside of you when imagining that your ex-soulmate is out there somewhere with some cool guy doing and saying the things you used to do and say with your sugar plum. No wonder we have Americans singing ‘She’s somewhere in love’ in the most pathetic, corny and hackneyed innuendo ever to be found in the cardiac system. Anyway whatever, let former flames burn their candles to glory – better Burma candle brands are available in plenty in our beloved colony Paan shops. And especially with our power department blinking out, Burma candle business will not be held in the dark too long a time. But of course, Bachelordom/Spinsterdom is the coolest, bestest, goodest, betterest and loneliest and painfullest realm in the human heart. To bad for the last two words notwithstanding the fact that I just messed up English spelling.
Take Nagaland for instance: “Love” is determined by the tribe your sweetie belongs to; (Brrrr…I fear for those ones who falls for a sweetie from an “advanced tribe” or “backward tribe” and whatever malarkey garbage only our Naga minds can come up with!) “Love” is your ability to charm your sweetie and hold that Still-life until some super cool guy comes along to retire you from active service because the other guy is demanding equal employment opportunities; “Love” is when your lollipop attacks you and demand that you own up wrongdoings committed against her if you wanna join the national mainstream; in Nagaland “Love” is when your beloved questions your integrity, identity and commitment and then fall madly in love with another one just like you; “Love” is if you have land and a band account to boot; “Love” is…ouch…a real ouch. Many of the young-hearted don’t know the depth of wound rejection can inflict. Betrayal. Trauma. Shame. Humiliation. Lies. The “promises.” Name it. And you got it, if your sweetie is on the richer side of high-life. Welcome to Nagaland, darling! Muuuhahahahahahahaha! * Evil grin*
Forget you former flame and burn yourself to death with Burma candles (and the ongoing power crisis is an appropriate time to do it) – don’t expect anything, in all probability he/she is highlighting you to his/her new lover; how you treated him/her; what about you that made him/her leave; what she hates about you and all such topics where were once too taboo even to come across in mind. Go get a life. The best thing they do to get rid of you is tell you “get real.” Ha-a! As if pain was not real. As if endless sleeplessness and bitterness and days in and out in tears are not real. As if betrayal and lies, hurt and confusion are not real! And we concoct such despicable words like “get real!”
The irony is that most former lovers are big time bruisers turned big-time-motivational-Gurus too, advertising the ‘It-happens-for-the-best’ message to trivialize your pain, whenever you come up with the big ouch. What better method to get rid of your former lover! Show me one Naga, who’d ever walked decidedly to the door the feeling of shame, betrayal and humiliation and of course his tribe being questioned and I’ll show the two biggest lying Nagas creation ever created. Those Sunshine-After-The-Rain, Everything-Will-Be-Fine and You-Will-Find-Love-Again philosophies former lovers lecture you on to get rid of you even though they know you are hurting like mad, shamed like dirt and lonely and without friends! In short they have nothing to lose. Simple. That’s why they can afford to look to tomorrow. They are too caught up in their new lovely worlds and they have no time for you! The world is suddenly an I-Hate-Myself-For-Loving-You type. Ooooh I just Laaave Joan Jett! “Love” is…ouch…a real ouch but! Mmuuuhahahahahahahaha! Super-evil grin**
…How uncomplicated would the universe be, where the Sun is a shared reminder of the love that we can give and receive. How beautiful an excuse would the heart be to reach out if no things such as selfishness, possessiveness, rejection, disrespect and apathy ever found manifestation in human expression; how wonderful it would be if beautiful things were not meant to be regretted; if touching memories are not meant to be suppressed so that the pain the inside of the one betrayed and lied to is not fed to grow to destroy all that he ever stood for in life. How beautiful a reason it would be to at least have someone to talk to who at least cares enough to ask you, ‘how was your day’ and how are you?’ How wonderful would our days be if there was no pain…no pain at all...no pain…
