The namesake

Dr Roshan Radhakrishnan
Once upon a time, there was a guy who was in love. That, perhaps, is an understatement. For, having tasted the joys of true love at a young age, he found himself addicted to it's wondrous beauty. He enjoyed writing poetry to her, playing pranks on her, annoying her just to savour the sweet taste that making up brought. He chatted with her during all hours of the day, just to hear how she was doing.. over and over and over again. He prayed for her above himself, willing God to choose him whenever pain had to be delivered, rather than hurt her kind soul.
He saw love in everyday scenes, beauty in every couple’s laughter.
But above all, he dreamt. He dreamt a lot of the love he would forever provide her, of the days he would spend with her, of the ways he would surprise her always in love, with love. How he would win her heart over and over again, whenever the embers of love seemed to dim, even a little.

He died last year. Heartbroken. I know this because I replaced him. There really wasn’t much of a choice, when you think of it. We had the same face, the same body, the same college degree and name too. The only difference was he was the one with the heart, he was the one who believed he was capable of being loved. Me? I had to cover for his death so the world would think nothing was amiss. I had to do the same chores he did, read the same books he did, greet the same friends he did. In time, I almost started believing I was him. Almost.

You see, I can still find beauty in other couples laughter, in their love. That one trait I have inherited from my predecessor. But I don’t write poetry anymore. I don’t call anyone for the simple joys of flirting. I prefer to go alone for movies. Above all, I don’t dream anymore of love.
I miss it, of course. But it's different now. There's a hollow feeling associated with the word - like being reminded of a failed exam. There's a growing awareness that, from here on in, no matter what I achieve, in this one field in which my earlier namesake yearned to succeed, there will be no happy ending.

It manifests in many ways - a memory of an old crush, a chat with crushes new and never met even, a hottie, a cutey , a sweetie walking by, a lazy smile - they bring pain now where once they boosted the ego. Where once, they could be the pillar on which I based my day, today they crush me further.Now,there are just questions ... When will the mistrust end ? When will I learn to trust in love again ? When will I learn to trust my heart to choose again ? And yes, when will someone ever consider me ?

I'd like to blame a lot of things for my condition , from false promises to godly frauds to bad horoscopes, but the truth is.. it's all me now.That's all in the past. Because my predecessor died doing what he loved. He chased his dream. He believed in his love till the end. He just did not get his 'happily ever after.'
Me ? Oh ho ho. I'm the smart one, ain't I ? I'm living a dead man's life. I've given up dreaming, claiming the taste is bitter. I look opportunity in the eye and say " No, thanks. I don't want any ." When my heart , silly fool that he is, mentions a girl's name in hope, I cholesterol-slap him silly reminding him of his past. As a result, I'm safe. Safe as a ship anchored to the dock. After all, that's what ships are for, aren't they ?
Unlike before, I think with my head these days rather than my heart. I drown out the pleas of the beating redhead within my chest, begging me to let love save me again, to let anyone in to save me as they had done my namesake more than a decade ago. I turn a deaf ear. After all, work before pleasure, right ? Career first, right ?

When this life is over, I just hope I'll have made the right decision. Because it was a good life to begin with...

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Let me know what you think.

  1. From one existentialist to another:

    The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly one you can never have.
    --Soren Kierkegaard

  2. no, this could never be the right decision...I really wish he's open his heart to love again...because if anything can bring life back in to the dead, its love!

    May be a dreamer, but surely not the only one :)

  3. hey buddy.. i love the way uve customized it.. me too a doc, frm mumbai.. so u doin PG??

  4. yeah! this does bring back a lot of memories of gettin "crushed" :)...

  5. Your post feels like a poem,though written in prose !!!!


  6. i guess i've missed on alot of ur posts.....but this one struck on me as being oh so depressing....awww man, cheer up....dun't kill urself before u r brain dead....tis not easy, i kno.......i'm tryin 2 get outta a pool of depression myself.......

  7. omg!
    feels like you've penned down what i feel. what i've felt. the hope remains. somewhere. but the brain doesn't let it get better of you. the brain stops you. from 'feeling' again. sigh.

  8. its very odd,, kos i ve this very very strong feelin that ur latest post and this is so connected ...maybe am not right but to me it does feel its connected , the sacrifice was mentioned only in ur latest post but this post was written as an avoidance to mention wat really happened.. maybe am right .. maybe am wrong.. my advice -dont clarrify me with the truth..let it remain in the air.. its better like a fragnance that is just flirting thru without consent of anyone ..

  9. Eeep.. seeing this i realise how many comments ive not replied to... Sorry guys, but I'll reply to the recent ones...

    Nimisha, true...I wish it werent so.. but sometimes it just is..

    Anu,well, let me just say.. theres more to it than meets the eye.. some things are better left unspoken

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