Bliss in comparison to any other emotion is by right, an exceptionally hard emotion to comprehend. We may go through life engaging ourselves in activities and adventures that amaze us and awe us, yet can we find bliss in those life altering events? There is a fine line between bliss and happiness, yet where do we cross it? To me, bliss is a Zen-like state in which we feel it almost for an instance in time. It does not tarry and is never prolonged. In an instance in which we feel it, it disappears almost as it had come, unexpectedly.
In the two weeks that I had known M, I had been exposed to emotions and sensations that I had never felt nor will ever (assuming) feel again. What is it about her that enables the mind, body and soul to unearth these fresh new emotions? They are as distant and unexplored to me as the countries and places that I have never stepped foot in. Yet, this is a journey I am keen on taking.
Keep in mind before I start, this is not a love letter. It is not a eulogy or a random post. It is something more profound than any mediocre confession ever will be. It is about a woman named M. She is not amazing in any way. She cannot walk across water nor move mountains, she has not liberated countries from their senseless ideals nor has she created them with her own. Yet, to the people who know her and who are touched by her, they believe, that she has indeed performed all these amazing feats. To me, she is the very definition of bliss.
Seeing her for the first time never indulged my thoughts to anything remotely interesting. She was in a bathrobe with disheveled hair and instinctively, she didn’t look anything close to the word attractive. But considering the time was 3a.m, it was acceptable. During my first stay at her house, we never talked and I for the better part of my stay, had been avoiding her for reasons unknown to myself. Fast forward 2 and a half years later, a certain event occurred which gave us a reason to talk to each other.
It was on the balcony of her house that I shared with her thoughts and emotions that I would never share with anyone. Reason being, not a lot of people understood the intensity of my thoughts and the passion I had for certain events in my life. But she did. The release was intense. She made me confess to the swirling vortex that was my life. The words came out perfectly considering I define my life as a library that refused to be arranged according to category, yet, were arranged by the dates the ‘books’ were published. Never had I been able to unload myself on someone without receiving backlash in return or having blank stares welcoming the end of my speeches on the intricate possibilities of nothingness. It was bliss. The night ended abruptly as it had begun. I walked out of the house with a faint longing of wanting to be on the balcony talking to her still. She was bliss.
THE WEEKEND
The drive to her house was nothing unusual. The traffic was the same. The disgruntled drivers honking their horns as if it were an extension of their anger and by pressing on it, the more pressure put on the horn, the more anger vented out through it. It didn’t matter because I was on my way to see her. As I reached the house, I was greeted by her amazing daughter. Such energy and knowledge squeezed into one shell of a girl. She had the same passion possessed by her mother. A clairvoyant would identify her aura as blinding. But I’m no clairvoyant, yet I see her aura for what it was. Blinding. It took me almost 5 minutes to cross the threshold into her house. Reason being, I was unsure as to what I was doing there. I knew that I needed to see her again but I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. Here was a woman who lived her life guided by her passion and her daughter. Men fell at her feet and women wanted to be her (albeit a few wanted to date her I’m sure). Here I was, a journalism degree student who only had his dream of writing for The New York Times and haunted by his questionable past. I couldn’t compete with the men she’d had in her life, yet, I was too arrogant to admit that.
The night was young and we were alone on the balcony, with a glass of wine talking about what equally exceptional minds talked about with the wind blowing ever so gently against our skins intoxicatingly. I had had a glass or two of wine and I was feeling bold. Her beautiful chestnut eyes were playing with mine and I saw the glint of mischief in them that yearned to be reciprocated. I moved my hands towards her feet and firmly began massaging them. With the absence of sensual massage oils, I had to work with what I had: my clumsy oaf-like hands and the hope that she was too intoxicated to realize I couldn’t massage for nuts. She responded to my touches and in turn, I responded to hers. I could feel my confidence rising as I moved my hands up past her ankles, past her knees and along her thighs. I never realized her skin was impressively soft. Like walking in a field of barley and running your hand over the barley stalks while the wind loosened the sway and they adhered to your every command, where you moved your hands, the stalks would follow. Her skin was radiant against the moonlight making the sinews of her muscles look calm and contented even though beneath it all was a complex formation of veins, each in turn having dark red, life-giving blood rushing through them. I moved my hands towards hers and she gently slid her fingers into mine. I could feel my heart beating with her every touch. I felt confident and bold yet with a tinge of nervousness that came with being in the presence of such an amazing woman. I felt the beating of my own heart and longed to hear hers. Were they as my own, unable to be contained, ready to explode or were they calm and ready for what would come next?
In every relationship I had, I had always had a tendency to rush my kisses. They were sloppy and hurried and never once have I had emotions running through me as I leaned in to kiss these paramours that I had apparently promised happiness to. After pulling away from them they would ask me, “Did that feel good?” I would then reply in turn, “Every single time”. It was as if I had been an answering machine and my replies were one and only one: “Every. Single. Time”. I had been lying to them during every second of every kiss every single time.
I saw her face near mine coming ever so closer as I pulled her towards me. As her lips were inches near mine, I leaned in a quarter of an inch towards her lips yet not fully all the way. There was an aura about her that time that had made me hesitate the last few inches before our lips met. Or maybe I was being a gentleman and decided that if she was comfortable with me, she’d go the extra mile.
There are no words to describe it. The kiss wasn’t mind blowing, it wasn’t amazing, but at the same time it wasn’t terrible either. It was just a kiss. What made it interesting was the fact that it came from her. The woman, weird as it may sound, whom I have had a crush on for the longest time possible. I had longed for this sensation. The taste of her lips combined with the artful pressures of her tongue. She was a painter painting not with brushes but with her finger tips adding to the value of every art piece. She was feeling her way around the canvas, guided only by the passion she so lives by.
My mind was awash with thoughts. My heart was a-flutter with emotions. My mind’s eye went back all those years before to her parents’ house in
The intensity of that kiss took me back years. I saw her then, yet the woman I was seeing now was different. She was more intense. Her passion overwhelming me to the point that I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak. I only longed for more kisses, more time with her. As our fingers intertwined, I retreated a centimeter away from her lips. Yet those centimeters away seemed like inches apart. I knew I longed for more. From the way her fingers moved to caress mine, I knew that she was obliging me.
The rest of the night on the balcony was the stuff of fairy tales. We kissed and we touched and all the while I knew that I was falling for her if I had not already done so. I was falling deeper into an unknown abyss. Never knowing how I got there nor how I was getting out. But the question remained, did I want to get out?
The question was answered before it was asked. No. Not for the world, not for any reason imaginable and not for any pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Here was a woman who knew what she wanted. She took it with no questions asked (although a million questions must be swirling around in her head at that time) and so for that, who was I to ask such meaningless questions no matter how profound the answers may be. I just wanted her. As selfish as that sounds, I wanted her.
Later that night, she crept into the guest room where I was sleeping and we made love. She fell asleep in my arms and M and I spent the entire night embraced in each other’s warmth, under the covers till dawn. It was the most natural feeling in the world.
LOVE
People may say that I’m not the easiest person to be with in a relationship. I’m too picky, I tend to be immature and former paramours have accused me of being too distant and inattentive. I did what any self respecting partner would do. I denied. But one thing I never denied was the fact that I had a hard time falling in love. I can never tell if I’m in love with that significant other. I used to constantly blame infatuation for all the feelings and emotions that I would get from a relationship. Love for me could not be formed into words just as
M was different. I loved her. I loved her in every sense of the word. The first time I had feelings for her was the first time I saw her. That was a crush. The second was infatuation when I talked to her on the balcony of her duplex and love was when I spent 2 weeks with her and saw for myself how amazing she was. She had the tendency to put the needs of others above her own. Never mind if she had to drive to see a friend in their hour of need without an ounce of rest, she would. This topic on love however is not focused on my love for M (as obsessive as that sounds), yet it focuses on her love and the passion she possesses for what she does.
While in a relationship with her I was lucky enough to be introduced to a few friends of hers. Among them were her 2 best friends, G, a petite young Indonesian with a fantastic character and S, an Indian woman with an amazing voice and passion for writing that takes after my own heart. These women opened my eyes to just how amazing a woman M is. It is said that the company you keep reflects your own personality, and I found nothing short of amazing from the two women that I had the opportunity to have dinner with.
They were loud, fun and from their topics of conversation, were intriguing to say the least. Obviously they were two strong, independent women who had woken up each day loving every minute of it and knowing in their hearts that the world was their oyster and it was fresh for the picking. They may have had problems in their lives or like G, may have suffered a loss in the family, but on that day, at that time, they were happy to just be together. I saw M’s eyes that day. It was hard to see those same eyes any other day. They had a sparkle to them that could only be brought on by sheer happiness. A happiness that was only achievable by lifting the woes of the world she often carried off her shoulders so for one night she could enjoy what her own world had to offer. Great friends, wonderful stories and excellent wine.
A few weeks later, she received a phone call from a friend that had been admitted at the
L was a fragile, petite little woman, unable to move much due to her condition, yet she was still talkative. I found her refreshing due to the fact that I was able to communicate with her well and I found myself liking her the more I talked to her. As M left us to tend to another friend, she looked at me and asked me how long I had known M. I replied in kind that it wasn’t for very long. L told me that M was stubborn and that often times she herself was shy and scared to ask M for help. This was because she knew that M, whatever she was doing, would come straight away to be by her side. “Susahkan dia aje” she said. “Kadang-kadang malu nak mintak tolong sebab kita tahu, dia mesti datang tolong kalau kita mintak”. I told her, “Dia memang macam tu kak. Tak tahu nak rehat. Pentingkan orang lain daripada diri sendiri. Sebab tu orang sayangkan dia.” L looked at me and smiled. The glint in her eyes almost mischievous as she looked at me up and down. I asked L, “Apa kata kak nasihatkan dia sikit. Saya dia tak nak dengar, Mungkin akak dia dengar kot?” L smiled her energetic smile at me. Before this I would assume she was a healthy young woman, full of energy and life. I would have liked to be there then to see her smile while she was healthy and fine, way before this illness had gotten hold of her, way before she was lying on the hospital bed without her son to keep her company. But the smile she gave me was enough. Full of warmth and kindness and reassurance that even though this world was built on a foundation of tears, people who still had the strength to fight on have to keep believing that this world still has hope.
And so she did. After M got back from the other ward, L told her what she needed to say. She told M to always take care of herself and to attend to her needs first before tending to the needs of others she cares for. I couldn’t control myself. My eyes were glistening as I heard L speak. I only met her for less than an hour and I was touched by how strong willed she was and how she cared about others and the kindness she shared. We left the ward soon after. A few months later M informed me that Linda had passed away. I was heartbroken. But it wasn’t my place to be. I had only known her for less than an hour and had no right to share the grief the people closest to her felt. I was sad then, I was heartbroken that she was taken away before her time. I knew that M, being in
This chapter on Love is not focused on my love for M. Yet it focused on the love she has for others that makes her amazing. I fell in love with because of her heart and the unconditional love she has for the people around her. I was with her when she received news that her grandmother had passed away. I failed to console her, yet managed to make things worse for her. The morning after she came back, she was distant. I, in my selfishness broke up with her and with my constant nagging bombarded her with questions and explanations that she didn’t need at that time. What she needed was someone who was willing to give her the time and space for her to grieve the loss of her grandmother that she loved oh-so-dearly. I was not that person. I know that whenever she feels sad or wishes to express herself, she writes. I have never read any of her works, but I wish that someday I would be fortunate enough to be able to do so. I know for a fact that it is beautiful. I had caught a glimpse of the memoir she wrote regarding her dear-departed grandmother. The first few lines were enough to know that it was passionate and from the heart. A quality that is never rare with M.
Whenever I was at her house I would be fortunate enough to hear her play on the piano. The soothing tones she played calmed me down and brought me back to the days when my own grandmother would often play DeBussey for me on the piano at our house in Johor while she was still alive. M tends to bring out the good-natured qualities in others making them admire her even more. She was artistic and talented, beautiful and passionate. Attributes that many would die for.
The time I spent with her was the most educational time of my life. I am 22 years old and I was given the lesson of a lifetime in the 3 months that I was with her. I loved her as a girlfriend but I will always love her as the woman who opened my eyes to the endless possibilities that this world had to offer. “I never intend to be mediocre” she once said to me. “She never was”, I thought. She taught me that the world still had hope, never judge people for who they are and always count your blessings. I go through life every day with these lessons etched in my heart. She was my lover, she is my teacher and she will always be my friend.
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