Love : The immortal desire

The wooden benches had been beckoning since long, the summers were almost on the verge of perishing and the westerlies had somewhat given an early knock on the doors of Indian Capital. India's tryst with Globalization and newly founded independence in liberalization, was yet to be felt in many a small cities across her length and breadth.And most importantly what it meant for a brand new generation was a whole new set of brands to buy from.

                      But for the young curly haired, fairly colored and the round spectacled  Mustafa , all it meant in the summer of 1995, was the completion of a long desired dream of studying the intricacies rather the phenomena which had played the crucial  role among all in the past couple of years. The young Rajput was on his way into the prestigious Delhi University  to undertake a course in Economics. His journey from the closed boundaries of the boarding school of Nanital , to the wisdom gates was not anything  less than an awe inspiring tale of conviction and firm attitude. But what he also did not know was the immense colors of life which he was yet to experience in the national capital, bestowed with great Mughal architecture and the famous Ghalib's Haveli . 

                        

                                          His first day was not much different from the one he had at the boarding. With immense courage and experience he managed to scrape across the early regulations of Indian college education known as ragging.Soon he had quite a rapport with his seniors. Many a things had changed in him.He was no longer a shy lad . He could press in for his demand for seat in the local DTC blue line bus's and  this gave him the skill to showcase his newly born talent at a couple of public debates. But then what  remain unchanged , Mustafa was yet to find a new friend to replace his best one 'Soltitude'

     

                       

         A year had almost passed and like everywhere else , there were the treacherous exams to pass. Mustafa a obedient student as he was, had begun with his sitting at the library in the long night hours. Helping as he had always been , and at this time of the year he was messiah for many of his peers. But this day was different. As the evening hours were about to dip in , Mustafa had decided to leave for the usual  coffee session with a group of civil service aspirants, making critical analysis of the current government policies and learning much more of what was happening around the world. But not today, as in his path he was to be halted , by a voice so sweet, that he had never heard from. He was mesmerized on seeing what he saw, it was as if an apsara had really come down from the Jannat above. Zaira with a twinkle in her eye, and the natural dimple on her cheek had completely spell bound and halted the young Rajput on his tracks. 

               

               Coming to senses he replied back  and thats how began the story of a Rajputs love and immense sacrifice.The first meeting though just ended 15 mins , but it laid down the foundation of inseparable love for both. The initial meetings which were like mere doubt clearing sessions for both of them , soon transformed into coffee sessions and a few long walks of unending talks related to importance of improving government policies and reforms. The couple soon began an indomitable force on the debating front and their responses in lecture halls left many of their peers  mouth opened. It was as if a whole new dimension had been added to Mustafa's life . He had found a new friend to replace his old one, but just for the very first time, the young Rajput felt the most divine feeling of all that we call love. 

                          Semesters passed by and their separation at vaccations, was not much felt by both as they knew that it was more or less a temporary one. Though both rich yet avoided the long distance STD calls, but  often wrote letters to each other sharing experiences from the lands they used to travel to . Though both remained miles apart , one in Srinagar and the other in Jaisalmer but it seemed that they had seen a lot through each others eyes. Then they entered the final semester and they began to count the days left before their separation. Zaira wished to continue with her Economics study , but fate had something else in stored. Her fathers textile business in Srinagar had suffered huge losses, and they had decided to shift to Bombay with her uncle. The shift also included a compulsion for Zaira to continue her studies if she must , in the new financial capital of India. Mustafa who had over the years dreamed to serve in the Indian Foreign Service had decided to stay back in Delhi , for the purpose of his preparation, even when his father compelled him to apply for a future course in economics in several foreign elite colleges.

       The day of separation is always filled with immense sorrow and pain. Where many of us are filled with the grief of loss some among us have even more close ties to break up. But for our strong couple this was not the way they decided to bid farewell to each other. They like mature people decided to yet remain in touch , through their normal modes of letter based font and also promised to meet whenever the moment came across. Yet what Mustafa was to experience would probably remain an ever lasting imprint in his memory chip , which was the moist touch that Zaira laid on Mustafa's cheek. Mustafa had just been kissed.

                                 In the initial months of separation, their conversations varied from the newly found surroundings and immense passion and love for their new subjects. But what always remained evident was the immense feeling of love that Mustafa portrayed through evident use of Ghalib shayari. But soon the days turned to months and months to years. Reply became scant and talks even rare. Although Mustafa didn't give in that easily. He  wrote continuously , sharing his problem and passion alike, but then after a long wait even he had given up hope. In the last letter that he wrote , he conveyed his beloved the great feat of accomplishment he had achieved. He had not only cleared the the civil services exam , but topped it and was joining the IFS in a couple of months. But in the end he wrote what he felt would be the defining and befitting farewell to his love

                     ye na thee hamaree qismat ke wisaal-e-yaar hota

                                                        agar aur jeete rehte yahee intezaar hota

                                            

 After a decade long career , sprawling across a few continents and several countries, serving in several diplomatic roles, Mustafa had risen among equals to be the youngest Foreign Secretary of India. But what void had been created back in his heart he had decided to live along with that through out his life. Being a bachelor and that also a handsome one in his prime, his time was spent among his pet dogs and wine. An avid lover of sufi music he spent the free evenings listening to old tracks and reading literature. 

            Then one fine day Mustaffa was called at a function at his alma mater. As he was about to end his chief guest speech , motivating  young and nourished minds in the audience he decided to add the poetic flavor to it. 

  

                                     hazaaron khwahishen aisi ke har khwahish pe dum nikle

                                     bahot nikle mere armaan, lekin phir bhi kam nikle 

To which a the same old sweet voice in the audience replied 

                 

                                        ye na thee hamaree qismat ke wisaal-e-yaar hota

                                               agar aur jeete rehte yahee intezaar hota

                                             

Zaira had returned. Mustafa's love was back. The mere emotions were best described in the tears that had filled both their eyes. The walls of wisdom which had acquainted them the first time had brought them back once again in life, but just for this time, there was not going to be any separation .

Indeed Love strengthens on separation. It becomes even more rich and nourished surviving the test of time. Many loose hope and desire to meet their loved ones, but only those who can keep the spirits alive are the ones bestowed with true love .

But for some loners like many of us , who are yet to be tickled by the emotion called love all I can is do share these few lines from the man who knew all about sharab and shabab

   

                                 Dil hi to hai na sang - o - khist

                              Dard se bhar na aye kyon ?

                            Royenge hum hazaar baar 

                              Koye hamei sataye kyon ?