Theloopylululog

Ofcourse I do.

But let me ask you this, what do you mean by soulmates? In the context of romance – what we are conditioned to believe is love? Or what true love in all its absolute beauty and grandiosity really is?

Allow me to walk you through my belief in soulmates.

My belief in soulmates has been like a new born baby who learnt to absorb every influence from the world around her with her first step, laying a foundation of warped love cemented with pain.

It went on to become a introverted damsel in distress, waiting to be swept off her feet by her prince charming only to be left broken hearted because no prince ever showed up for a dark skinned Indian girl, did they?

All grown up, stumbling across horrifying atrocities in the name of love, it wasn’t sure what love meant anymore, let alone a soulmate.

Threw caution to the wind, grew some balls big enough to hate God and lost all hope for soulmates.

Then turned grey it’s oldest hair. Wise enough to come across a ray of light straight out of heaven to finally understand what love in all its splendour was. What a true soulmate really means.

Not in the arms of a man. In the arms of faith.

My belief changed and metamorphosized with me and now the baby is 44.

When I look back at all the different selves of mine who believed in various different naive versions of love and soulmates, I laugh at some and balk at others.

As every other child I grew up heavily influenced by marriages around me lasting forever. That somehow being the achievement of most from a certain era. The only achievement dare I say. Maintaining this relationship seemed to be the only goal for most women of that said era. However cold and wretched the spouse might be. Till death do us apart, the dream life.

As a vulnerable teen the cracks behind the perfect facade of these marriages came to the fore. Most of them were tolerated if at all. Love, you ask? Well that never even prioritised itself during the course of these relationships.

The 30 year old me had by then said goodbye to a disastrous relationship, swearing to never get married or have children.

The never married and no children part still rings true. But…

Love changed its meaning for me as I mellowed into a well grounded woman. The more I exposed myself to the world, the more it taught me that love is around everywhere. Dare I care to look?

In the spine of a new book. In the folded corners of old books read while holding on to anything my hands could lay themselves on in a bus traversing the hair raising folds of a mountain.

In the dried flowers still caressing the aroma of yesterday’s incense and in the fresh ones my mother lovingly offers her gods.

In a fresh seasonal ripe mango. In the bharanis storing last year’s mango pickle.

In the soft folds of my mom’s wobbly paunch. In her silences when she withhold’s a hug while throwing a tantrum to lay her hands on a forbidden laddu.

In the tiniest of grins on my brother’s face that conveys what words never will…I have your back, Lali.

In an unexpected message from Paytm that helps me find lost ground…a few silent thousands from my sister when I am desperate enough but don’t ask for help.

Even in the silences that define my relationship with my dad.

In the whatsapp chat box of a friend with whom all communication has dried up. In the knowing that no matter what, she will always remain the one who holds the precious memories of my childhood.

In the queen like voice of a woman, millions of miles across oceans who stayed when everyone left. I am here if you need me L…enough to stay alive for one more night.

In the insights during meditation that comfort me, making way for forgiveness. To the man who abused me in the name of love and to my old self that believed love is supposed to be so painful.

In the healing sessions held for others that reveal we are all struggling, hurt in the same ways and sometimes carrying scars in the same places.

In the gratitude I can’t help offering the one man I find myself forgiving easily. Love for him comes naturally like love for God. Effortless. We aren’t even together anymore. Still, love holds us like the roots of a mighty baobab.

I am single. Without no encumberances that tie me down to a certain kind of love.

But I believe in love of all kinds.

A Soulmate is just that. A mate for my Soul when it ventured on Earth for a lifetime worth of experiences.

A feeling. Nameless. The string to a kite that believes in it’s power to yoke the winds.

That smells a lot like safety.

Tastes like water.

Nothing exotic.

Simple.

Like homecooked rice and ghee.

A warm breeze on a hot day whispering you of cooler winds blowing in soon.

Like trust that comes with ease.

Grace. Gratitude.

A single lamp welcoming you as home wherever you are in the world.

An anchor.

This could be anyone.

Anyone who holds up a mirror to you and sees with you the image of God that you are.

Anyone who has the courage to say you are wrong and still stand by your side as you go on a rampage trying to prove yourself right.

Anyone who guides you to your true self beyond the walls, smiles and identities you create as your truth.

To me it is my family. The friends who left. The man to whom love meant abuse. The man who couldn’t commit. The friend who stayed. Tho books that are a part of my story. The food that grounds me. The faith that kept me going even when all I desired was a long long sleep, never to wake up. The sun that sends me a wave each morning. The moon that heals my sleep.

ME.

All said and done I come home to myself. Even if I am the last one standing on this planet, I would still feel loved. Held. Safe.

For first and foremost, I am my perfect Soulmate. I am the only one who is permanent in my life. The others offer company on a shared journey. Some stay long. Some don’t. But all of them mates to unearth the diamond in me, the light within which is beyond all time and space.