“I searched for love all my life; I searched for it in all places, up and down, far and near, and everywhere. I fell in love even at the prospect of the palest beauty of human attraction 
and the faintest sound of its tenderness. All my childhood, tender age, and adult years I was haunted by a hunt of a love I knew not what it was. All my waking moments and those of dreams were troubled by an insatiable yearning for love which was deeply rooted in the fantasies of the beauty of form, kept alive by the warmth of sprightly touches, souled with the spirit of the buoyant magic of a lover’s glance, and lived through the whiff of the bodily togetherness.
But alas, never was I destined to find that ethereal love that I so earnestly sought on earth. I had enamored encounters now and then and had crushes every so often. But none lasted long enough and the joys thereof were proved transient too. I would read love stories of Russian, English, and Hindi writers and imagine myself to be in their plots. I would lose myself into reading something like Lady Chatterley’s Lover and fancy the story to be happening in my life. Such was the agony of the solitude and seclusion of my life as a child and a growing teen and such was its looming shadows on my painful years of existence.
My crushes on love took me to try all weird things and cathartics that one does as part of growing up and I even prided in writing pieces of poetry, doing paintings, and composing music of unknown genre- all vicarious elegances of human art and culture that I could do being unaware of the fact though that much as they were secondhand, they were inadequate too in filling the life’s void and vacuity which the spirit within experienced through the bodily prison devoid of any divine connect.”
@Raz Nawadwi: Pages from My Diary
Bhopal 06/08/2014
Razn Nawadwi 