In the tussle between the dream and the reality, we tend to fall back to the reality when going gets tough. Sticking to the ‘design’ as some might call it becomes easier for the psyche, for it contains no unusuality, or any originality for that matter. It’s the hope, the faith that keeps the dream alive. Pain comes when the hope is lost, and keeping the hope alive in front of the apparently impossible is the toughest job. Homo sapiens, not much renowned for their toughness, choose the easier path. Hence dreams are lost, hopes forsaken.

I had a dream too. As a little girl, I dreamt of love. I dreamt of a prince charming who would be dark complexioned, and would ride a black motorbike. Curiously enough, life gave it to me. My dream came true. The prince, who is now a King, is dark and unpardonably beautiful, rides a black bike, with a black helmet. And then, voila! Reality check!!

I was not his first choice. Nor the second one. But I love to believe I am his last one, the final choice. He never wavered since then. You see, pink is a fade hue. And over time, it fades all the more. The pinkness disappears, making way for all other darker and gossamer shades, both in their own perfection. The King has a Kingdom to rule, to take care of. In such a Kingdom, I am a liability to everyone, other than the King himself.

Back then, I wanted a normal relationship. A guy who would date me, go out, introduce with friends and all the while will never stop showing how much he loves me or what I mean to him to the whole world. It never happened. He never dated me, par say, never introduced me to friends, or never proclaimed his love publicly. But he loved me. As much as his heart would allow, may be a tad more than that. But he never expressed overtly… and man, did I fight with him? Like a stupid school girl, I fought over trifles, like the Queen who sits by him in a religious ceremony.

He tolerated gallantly, and never left my side. What I failed to notice was he renounced such ceremonies where someone else has to sit by him. I was vain, insecure about someone with whom I never had any fight. The King gave me time to grow up into a mature woman who would understand his station in life and still choose to be by him.

Dear King, I had been insecure, suspicious, attention seeKing bundle of nuisance, and still you accepted me in all your glory. You loved me and understood me more than anyone ever did, but more than that you respected and accepted me the way I am. Today, the world is no longer pink, it’s rather filled with every natural fiber and hue, but it’s still a better place than my imaginary pink world. I would not say that I’ve learned everything, but I truly understand now what you mean to me, and how much I mean to you.

Dear King, I do not envy your Queen anymore, for my very existence itself means a question on her identity. I do not want a public proclamation any more, for what would the world know about the agony of a King who wants to but can’t follow his heart for the sake of his empire. I am the Queen of your heart, the designation of the empirical Queen does not appeal to me anymore. Let me rule your heart, together, we shall rule the Kingdom.

 

~ The Story of a King ~

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