Another steaming hot day. My mind is still unsettled by the days of yesterday. Of all the feelings in the world, there is none more sinking than that of disappointment. Especially when it is disappointment in another who you trust. Today has a strangely surreal feeling to it. It seems as if the events of yesterday never happened. That I never saw vitriolic, dripping with sarcasm mails from a father to a daughter – and then the icing on the cake – that I never heard a man I call my brother tell that he might as a “last resort” stay with an ex-boyfriend I detest the most in this world and who the same man persists in calling a “jerk.”
Whither love? Whither care? All these events bring to mind this theory I was formulating since Sunday. Frequently, all too often we interchange love and care. To love is to care. Or so we assume. I beg to differ. Love is love. It brings with it all sorts of baggages – possessiveness, anger, hatred, but it brings not care always. Not care as it is so clichedly bandied about in this world. I am seeking to apply a new definition of care – love is not a part of it. I believe that when you care, you love but care is not always present in love.
That Birdie’s dad loves her is not in doubt. But care to me, is calling a daughter on her birthday. To not call her does not mean he does not love her. But it means care-lessness.
That the Man from the Moon loves Birdie is not in doubt. But in little acts of carelessness, he proves to me that care is not parcel of his make-up.
That the Man from the Moon loves me as a sister is not in doubt. But in having a polite conversation with the above-mentioned jerk and expressing the intention to stay with him for a while he shows again the lack of care.
That the Man from the Moon calls today and not for a minute ask Birdie if she is feeling better after that traumatic duel with her Dad or even if there were any further words from her parents betrays that same lack of care.
I am snow. And when I trust people, I form my own igloo for them inside that snow. But when that trust is shattered by a storm then that snow turns into ice. And people packed inside that ice seldom awaken themselves again to me. Man from the Moon is in that ice-packed abyss now.