Her Madness

A true story. Every word of it.

Some things are hard to define; to me she was one such enigma. I am still unsure whether I truly loved her or not; the truth is a part of me still yearns for her, her touch and her madness. And her madness was what that touched me the very first time, the madness with which she danced with me, holding me close, bordering almost on cheap obsession. I had never been fond of dancing. Sitting in a corner at the nightclub, I didn’t notice when she came and sat next to me. It was when she took hold of my whiskey and gulped it down did I realize her presence.

“Excuse me! That was mine!” was my quick protest.

"So?” she replied glancing at me. And then she took hold of my hand, withdrew the cigarette from in between my fingers and put it to her lips. As twirls of smoke danced around in the air, I couldn’t help but discern the beauty of her. She was clearly drunk. I could tell she was sad as well. There was something about her that mesmerized me. The voice of James Blunt crooned in the background…

“You're beautiful. You're beautiful. You're beautiful, it's true. I saw your face in a crowded place, And I don't know what to do, 'Cause I'll never be with you.”

Yes, it was true. She was beautiful. And I really didn’t know what to do, what to say. Was I angry? I don’t think so. Then what was it? I felt weird, unexplainable feelings churning inside me. As she took the last drag, she looked at me. Her eyes screamed in pain. I wanted to free her. For an eternity, none of us spoke. Every sound around me went dull. I was transported to a different place, and all the while she was right beside me, her eyes hollowing out my soul. I wanted to feel her touch again. There were a thousand sentences forming in my mind that I wanted to tell her, but words felt superficial.

“Dance with me…” she said and stood up. It sounded like an order. But it was a desperate plea, a cry for help. I felt being pulled away into the crowd. All around me, sweaty bodies blended and severed. The darkness was kept alive with the flashes of red and blue lights. People around me were in a trance, worries of the world eons away. And she pulled me into that dream. As our bodies moved to the rhythm, it amplified my heartbeats. I only saw her, and just heard the music. I wanted to dance my life away with her. I was dancing, like I never had before. And then, when she held me, I had my answers. She was lonely. So was I. It was a revelation. Till then I had not known what it was like to be loved. It melted me. I was drunk high on all the attention, and the power of seduction that came with it. I was in my own universe. Temptation outweighed my coherence. Suddenly the world felt crowded again. She read my thoughts. “Come with me...” she said. We cut through the swirling crowd like waves through the ocean; she, all the while gripping my hand tight as if afraid that I would let go. I felt a connection. I wondered if she felt the same. And later that night, as our bodies became one, it was the beginning of an agonizing end.

Was I being contrived? Or was it just another outlet for a fantasy? Was it a sinful ambition or an untamed desire? I didn’t get the chance to know her enough to know her mind because it was madness all along, and I drifted along the discrepancy of bedlam. Yet she remained a constant thought, an irrefutable reality. Maybe I wanted her to remain one. Something told me she didn’t want to let go of me either. But she could never possess me. It was the only truth of our connection. She could never belong to me and me to her. Our touch was an appalling crave. It did something to us emotionally. Yet I didn’t comprehend whether to her it was all about the touch or a trace of love existed. She would hold herself back, and thwart my expression too. The distance did something fatal to my soul. That was when her madness would pour in, rain in with all verve and leave me drenched and rapt. I loved the gleam in her eyes, the nostalgia that would follow and the reverie that would precede it.

My insecurity vended with time. I started to believe more in her. We tugged at a subtle part of each others' emotions, which we could never let our respective worlds see. Our bond of five months seems so fresh, I can still recollect every word of hers, written or said, the sweet nothings she whispered into my ears and the method in her madness. I still wish she had chosen me more often than the fear of guilt, and made interesting conversations a lot more times. I wish I had told her that it was more than just the sex. I wish I had known her a little better and not been rude to her that often. There was a dignity in her silence and never ever did she hurl back a mean word to me in reprisal. I still desire her in my darker moments, yet there was more to her than just her touch that created madness. Her intellect; it was a pleasure getting to hear her speak her mind. She had the clarity of conviction.

I wonder if I meant something enough to her. I wonder why it was meant to happen and I wonder what at all had us going? Our paths will soon diverge, and it’s a sin we will never divulge. The desire to hold on till the road divides and we lose sight of each other lingers on. It's a memory I will live with, of a girl who won me over with her inexorable madness and satiated me selflessly. Was I able to be with her? Maybe…

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