love

Unrequited

Posted on by Wayword Bloggers

by Aiaran Radnay

The truest forms of love are probably the unrequited ones – the fire that burns one sided, readily sacrificing oneself for the other; the other who doesn’t notice.

How common it is to see these one sided lovers – maybe a man, who would lay down his life for the woman he loves, only for her to choose another. Or a young girl, fighting against the whole world for the sake of her love, the love that isn’t even returned.

We often romanticize the concept – how beautiful the idea is, one pining for the other for the rest of their lives.

Ever heard of the Hanahaki Disease?

The fictional disease that claims the unrequited lovers as its victims; when their beloved doesn’t return their feelings, flowers bloom from the victim’s chest into their mouth. They cough up bloody petals, suffering until at last their love is returned, or they succumb to their illness.

It does have a beauty to it. the angst of a one-sided love, the pain of the victims suffering; the desperate hope that maybe they will be loved back, and that heartbreaking sorrow when it all goes to vain. Sure, it is a beautiful concept in fiction; but in real life you’d have to be a sadist to derive pleasure from something like that.

After all, they deserve the love and happiness in life too, don’t they? Why must they settle for only the far-away smiles and the cherished memories?

These questions plague us too, the one-sided lovers, wondering why not me? and yet we’re hypocrites; we’d gladly settle for the moments of cherished smiles and happiness in our beloved’s life.

This Unrequited love is perceived in many forms by people all over the world. Well, I see it as a fire.

This fire – so desperately buried, hoping it would die; but it only grows stronger, desperate and hungry – consumes one from within.
And yet we live, we broken lovers; in pain and longing, we live.
Wishing our love be returned.


How many of us are truly thus? Ready to selflessly love someone who’d never return it? 

Was it all a lie?

Posted on by Wayword Bloggers

By S. W. (Nawfar)

Funny how my heart can miss something, that was never really true,

The warmth of your hug, the scent of your soul, the “I’ll never leave you”

It’s the best to never let my heart hope,

‘Cause then I don’t need much strength to cope.

When I hugged you, I felt safe.

I was happy, I felt protected.

I felt like I could face any obstacle.

I felt loved. I felt like I mattered.

Well, that was all a lie.

For, I was in too deep and you couldn’t even see me drowning.

You weren’t on the shore.

You were never there,

and you’re not here anymore.

So, I ask you,

did it even matter at all, me, us,

what we shared?

Of all the times I needed you,

was it all a lie or did you actually care?

The Guitar Chords

Posted on by Wayword Bloggers

by Aiaran Radnay

The Guitar Chords

Love comes in all forms they say; to me, it came in the form of guitar chords.

The good ol’ college fest was just a week away. I, amongst a hundred other students was busily organising for it. A huge poster spread before me, as I painted the theme of the fest in colourful hues. Many others were out here, helping me; a blur of various faces.

 One face stood out the clearest, a boy with the most mischievous eyes, a vibrant lopsided grin with canines popping out slightly like a vampire, the spikes of his hair standing out in all directions as his friend ruffled it before sitting by to chat. I returned back to my work, only to avoid looking creepy.

The afternoon was hot; our spirits were dwindling. We called for a break, a bottle of cold water being passed around as we all settled down. Someone decided we needed songs and a cheer of approval later, the class’ resident singer started singing. He needed background chords though – a guitar was passed; into the hands of… well, kinda obvious right?

His hands gracefully accepted it, the guitar fitting in with his frame as if it always belonged there. The first chords of the song struck out, killing the soft murmur of voices. While i wasn’t a huge fan of Punjabi songs, the one playing seemed so beautiful; his fingers dancing to the rhythm, each pluck of the guitar string tugging at my own heartstrings.

His bronze skin shimmered in the light of the sun filtering through the window, his stubble making his face even more adorable as it scrunched up in concentration at a point. He looked up, grinning widely as the song came to an end, his eyes meeting mine… and my brain was a mush.

Thoughts of how he was mischievous and a playboy and totally not worth it slipped out of focus as his toothy grin replaced sensible thinking.

 I was a goner.

I smiled back softly, ignoring the raw thumping of my heart.

Few hours later, he was passing behind me;

“Sweet art skills you got there.” he commented, startling me.

“Thanks.” My voice was a whisper. We held each other’s gaze… one second… two seconds…

“You play really well.” I returned, my confidence slowly returning.

“Just here to entertain” he bowed dramatically; I covered my mouth, stifling my laughter.

Someone hollered his name from a distance. “I’ll be there!” he yelled, before grinning at me. “Got to go. I’ll see ya later.” He winked, before running off in that direction.

 I watched his retreating figure for a while, before returning back to my work.

It was just the beginning of a million long conversations to come.