“What can you say about a twenty-five year-old girl who died?
That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. And the Beatles. And me.”
I don’t have the slightest idea as to why I am writing on this topic, given that I have as many as ten incomplete blog posts on far more interesting topics, waiting to be completed and posted. Also what shocks me is the fact that I am not even a big fan of Love Story by Erich Segal (from where the above lines have been taken) or love stories in general. Still, these lines seem to have a great deal of effect on me. They are simplistic; yet so non-naive. It’s hard to decide whether I like these lines more or do not like the whole book more. But I think I shall settle with the former. I am totally in awe with the lines. I felt that it was the perfect opening lines for the (not-so-perfect) book.
A short take on the book (read: on love stories) – The book’s short note on the back cover reads, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry…” Ah, the usual idealistic stuff. One of my friends (Rudrath Kaul 🙂 ) retorted with “Love means always having to say you’re sorry…” I must say, he is quite practical. I guess, true love is the perfect oxymoron. No, am not prejudiced, and neither do I have some bitter experience in love that makes me think so. It’s just that the over-hype that usually follows love everywhere, in every corner of the world, makes me hysterical. Frenzied, to put in colloquial terms. And love stories have only added to the over-the-top expectations from relationships. Why can’t something so pure and pristine (I like it to associate love with the Divine) be just left to be felt and experienced by themselves by the individuals. Why is there any need to read love stories and just further complicate the already obscure and incomprehensible relations?
Only God knows. Or the readers. Or the writers perhaps. Atleast I hope they do. I wouldn’t deny the fact that I was one of those who were caught in the false shine that this genre of books carries with themselves. Having already hated (or disliked; hate is too strong a word to use) the Twilight movies, I still bought the so-called classic love story. Alas, having had my share of reading it, in a way I know better now; to stay away from these kind of novels-just unrealistic, superficial and impractical in their approach. The real world where we live is a mean place to eat, pray and live love. Atleast that is what I think or rather, feel. Maybe I am being raw. I do not know. I do not speak or think ill of love. Just the extraneous importance that it carries, making people neglect their work is what I disapprove of. Love should let it follow its own course; take its own time; shape in its own way. As the saying goes, while we are here, we can love along the way. Not the other way round.