Achieving Ignorance

I didn't notice her initially. I was busy hanging freshly-washed clothes out to dry that evening. Out here, people who stay in public housing hang their clothes on portable stands which they conveniently place in the corridor just outside the door. Mostly due to lack of backyards and also to avoid the ugliness of hanging them on the railings (as is customary in many other places).

Anyway, it was a cool breezy evening. Quite unlike the usual humidity and heat. It must have been almost 11 in the night and the block was relatively quiet except occasional noise from a passing bike or car. I think she was enjoying the quietness, balmy breeze and the coolness while comfortably sitting on the stairs with her legs stretched out. She was quite fair and had bright eyes. My sudden appearance with a bucket full of clothes must have disturbed her thoughts. I looked at her and she stared back. I immediately averted my glance and focused back on the task at hand. I could almost feel her continuing stare but I decided to avoid any further uncomfortable eye contact. I was feeling a bit guilty of intruding in her peaceful time and didn't want to create too much disturbance; so I just quietly placed each cloth on the stand. Same repetitive actions, same feigning of ignorance - one after another - soon I was done and ready to go.

But the urge to find out if she was still looking at me was killing me. So as inconspicuously as possible, I slowly cast a sly glance towards her. And my efforts had worked! She was completely bored with me and was looking towards the stairs going upwards. I quietly took the empty bucket and walked back towards my door. I had achieved the ignorance of the white cat.

Endless

They say, being in love is a feeling like toothache. Words spent describing are worthless; the only way to know is to experience it. And sometimes, it hurts as much, if not more. Though just because it hurts doesn't mean its love. How does one know if its love or not? Practical, floral, feasible, sensible, lyrical.... endless fruitless efforts of binding and defining the true free feeling responsible for all my bruises. The images keep re-playing in the mind like a broken record; the smile, favorite words in a funny accent, the warmth of the skin, the softness of the touch, moments of indifference, aloofness, the fire and smoke in the breath, the softness, words belying the goodness, words betrying quiet strength, the waiting, the meeting, the parting and the joining... images play on. Futile and aimless, the sensible advise of abandoning what will go nowhere is unheeded by the foolish, kiddish, screaming tantrums of blind heart. The heart truly has strings and when the moments gone do tug at them, it truly does go crazy. Like a lunatic's reckless non-stop cries for something he can't have. Some never learn, some never grow up, some endlessly repeat their mistakes. Is it merely human or it is inexcusable? Do I get a pat of understanding with the hidden sigh or resigned disgust at the endless strings of errors I keep weaving? How do I control the sensless, meaningless, pointless paintings my heart keeps drawing in its pursuit of the complete comfortable fulfilled love - none of which will bear fruition. I'm lost and defeated at both ends. At one side is the soft comfort of dreams impractical and doomed to be unfulfilled and the otherside is the deep dark abyss of practicality which leads to dry, cold and hard sensibility. Where do I go now?