REMNANTS OF A BYGONE ROMANCE
Ancient ruins in the city of Rome attract millions of tourists every year. People throng to see the desecrated remains of famous monuments, temples, and statues. Every country has its own heritage sites like this. The Colosseum, Machu Picchu, Angkor Wat, Petra, Stonehenge, and Hampi in India—all these places have a sort of amaranthine charm to them that draws in people year after year. What’s with the brokenness that’s so special? Is it the fact that all these beautiful ruins once experienced the aliveness of civilization? Does it feed the people a sense of delusive nostalgia, wondering how life would’ve been back then?
Every failed relationship leaves behind certain relics that just exist, unable to be destroyed or visited again. Just like the ancient architecture that survived countless wars, disasters, and time and is now a witness to the yesteryears, a romantic relationship has gifts, keepsakes, memorabilia, souvenirs, chocolate wrappers, letters, and pictures that stand as a testament to the transient period of togetherness. Digital footprints can be erased, but you can’t muster up the courage to burn a love letter. Certainly, I can’t.
Here, I’d like to write about a few such ‘remnants’ from a bygone relationship that I don’t have the heart to throw away, destroy, or forget. I don’t know if it’s a "healthy" thing to do. I don’t care. All I know is that these tokens and memories of love form a great deal of my life. It immortalizes the beautiful feelings I went through. I can’t throw them away. I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. All I can do is write.
1. Writing letters is actually an intercourse with ghosts — Franz Kafka
“En vaazhkai la vandhadhu mooney moonu letter; Still I remember my first letter”
I remember all the letters she gave me. She had this unique way of presenting them to me. She cuts the papers into many halves, like a jigsaw puzzle, and asks me to put them together to decipher the actual content of the letter. I would act stupid and knowingly take some time to rearrange the pieces, making a mockery out of myself to make her laugh. Sometimes, I would go about my day and suddenly the image of her chuckling crosses my mind. I still hear the sounds of her giggle. I find writing letters the most intimate way to express your feelings and thoughts. Finding a piece of paper, a working pen, away from screens, sitting down alone, being your true self, and pouring out your heart—if this isn’t life’s most vulnerable act, I don’t know what is.
2. Nicknames are meant to be cute and cringe
I always wanted to have a relationship taken to a level where there was a special, exclusive nickname for both of us. I used to envy people who enjoyed that privilege. Over the course of time, I realized that it has to happen naturally. When you force something, you push too hard to the point where it’s a pain in your ass. But when you let things take care of themselves, enjoy the relationship, and go with the natural flow that’s comfortable for both, magic happens. It happened to me. ‘Mandoo’ means dumb fuck, but in a cute way. I was a dumb fuck in love. I used to babble dumb shit and make weird jokes, and she would laugh at me and call me a ‘mandoo’. It caught on. Finally, I was in "that" phase of a relationship. We used to call each other all sorts of cute, cringeworthy nicknames. But mandoo was our thing. our word.
3. You can’t let someone ruin beautiful songs for you.
I once wrote on my Instagram that no one can ‘ruin’ any song for you; instead, they just add a different meaning to its rhythmic existence, and you've got to cherish the memories and move on. Easier said, tough as fuck to accept. Every time I hear ‘Enga pona raasa’, I’m going to think of her, solemnly sitting on her terrace, calling me to rescue her from the lackluster everydayness of life; waiting for me to come home, fall into her arms, and spend the night drenched in her scent. Every time it rains, I’m going to hum ‘Suda Suda Thooral’ and make myself sad. She was indeed an unexpected earthquake that shattered my pessimistic perceptions of life.
You can’t let people ruin songs for you. You've got to accommodate. Smile and move on.
4. You can customize awesome phone back cover designs and all you need is a transparent case.
For last year’s Valentine’s Day, she gifted me a transparent phone cover. I was confused. She also gave me a small box that contained neatly cut-out paper clippings of How I Met Your Mother pictures. She wanted me to work on sticking the clippings on a polythene sheet that was cut according to the backside of my phone and use it as my mobile case. It was a wonderful idea. But I’m a lazy fucker. I never did the activity. We broke up and months after, a couple of days back, when I was planning on writing this, I dusted off the box where the paper clippings and the transparent phone case were enclosed. I had this sudden, school-kid-like urge to finish the task. I watched this super aesthetic YouTube video, did everything the girl in the video mentioned and when I finally put the cover on my mobile, I realized, to my dismay, that I stuck the stickers on the opposite side of the sheet! If I put the cover, the colorful stickers won’t face outwards. I felt like a fucking dumb piece of shit. Somehow I came to terms with my foolery thinking that it was the Universe’s way of teaching me a lesson. When someone you love does something to you out of love and asks you to do something for the sake of love, you do it.
5. Like scattered beads, I search for her in everything that screams love.
She made me a beaded bracelet. I didn’t wear it because what if my hands were too big and it tore away the band? I was afraid I’d break it. Little did I know that what’s meant to be broken will break no matter what. I still haven’t worn the bracelet. I’m afraid.
I love to treasure things like this. It may be of insignificant value but for me, it holds a sentiment, memory, and above all a story to tell. I still have some of the pictures of us together. I don’t want to delete them. I smiled heartily in all those selfies. A remembrance of the happy days.
All these tiny memory relics are nothing but products of happy times. A vivid nod to the epoch when you were in love. You were in love. You loved someone and someone loved you back. That’s all that matters.
Darwish wrote, “If it was a piece of paper, I would tear it. If it was a bottle, I would break it. If it was a wall, I would tear it down — But it is my heart.”
But sometimes, it is that piece of paper; it is that empty milkshake bottle; it is that wall of unspoken barriers; it is that poor heart of yours.
It is everything.
