An audience of sorts.

Our love is a story for an audience.

It was the little things that made me stop and wonder like whether you could find the perfect person in a book, underneath a coffee mug, when you toss and turn a chapati or even when you listen to a love song at 4am. I have done worse, trust me.

So, I’ll drink some water and tell you all about my journey to and away from love. I believe that a sip of cold bottled water is my remedy. I would have had Scotch, or Whisky and twirl it around like Alejandro or Don Juan- or that guy who just got kicked out by his wife at the bar but I’ve never had a drink. I do not know the burning sensation or pleasure of cool alcoholic drink, so I’ll stick to what I know best like water.

My journey to love started when I was young. Growing up there was always the question, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

There were always the answers like: Doctor, Nurse, Lawyer, Surgeon, Neurosurgeon (thanks to Think Big by Ben Carson), Pilot, Air Hostess, Teacher.

Then there was the game “cha-nyumba” where you’d act like a family and everyone had roles. There would be the Father, Mother and kids. I loved this game because I was always the kid and could get presents like a clay version of a bike, or doll with hands that stuck to her sides.

This grew when I started watching Disney Fairy tales and watching programs and reading books. I was introduced to Shakespeare and Margaret Ogolla as a child, and their way with words brought out some hope- a belief in love being eternal. I still believe that love is eternal.

However, when I say that our love is a story for an audience, I am projecting a girl’s view on love in the bus today. She was asked by her friend, “how are things with you guys?” She paused and then replied, “I don’t know anymore, he’s nice and sweet sometimes when we are with other people and sometimes I never even hear from him, yaani, I don’t even know.”

I thought, “would you listen to that?” I pulled out the book I was reading and got down to it because there was this conversation in my head that brought back memories of someone I thought I loved. It’s been years and to have someone express a feeling that was a deal breaker for that relationship took me back to a place I never wanted to revisit. It was the absence and non-existent communication that made me end things. I felt like a car that was bought and left to sit in the garage because the owner didn’t have any use for it- and for a while I was angry. For two hours before sitting my exam I was angry and I remember my room mate telling me to call his number and say hello because chances are he was having a rough time at school too. I called and found the same response, his room mate saying he was unavailable and I remember sitting back in bed and asking myself “Did you really love him? Like did you really see a future with him?” And then the answers starting coming in: he drank too much, he laughed a lot even at things that were non-existent, he was intimidated by me,he was barely there. I was not hurt by him but more by me. I had held on thinking things would be okay, and that hurt me and so a year after going my way, I wrote a novella about it. (Yes, I Swifted him- and you can read it here)

To say that I was shunned from love by that incident would be a lie, rather it made me seek out love more and I met great people, places and books over the years. I found out so much more about communication and desire and trust in different times and occasion.

There is a lot to love and it starts with oneself. It’s like blossoming from the inside out. It takes time, understanding and experiences to get you there.

I have since discovered my love for writing romance.

But back to that girl in the bus, though I had promised myself that I’d stop following people’s conversations in buses, I hope that she does find what she’s looking for and if it is love that the only audience that ever attests to the script of that love is her before it hits the biog screens.

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