Unclaimed

“Unclaimed”

To make love with a stranger is the best.
There is no riddle and there is no test. —

To lie and love, not aching to make sense Of this night in the mesh of reference.

To touch, unclaimed by fear of imminent day, And understand, as only strangers may.

To feel the beat of foreign heart to heart Preferring neither to prolong nor part.

To rest within the unknown arms and know That this is all there is; that this is so.

— Vikram Seth

This is a poem that can have spark off lots of opinions, healthy debates, philosophical questions. At the end of it all, we’ll come to a common conclusion: to each his/her own. For some, the poem may resonate with what they believe in. That this is pure emotion, whatever it is. To take it for what it’s worth, to not extrapolate the action into a greater decision, to not plan a grand scheme – to simply love and leave. If it were that simple, I mean. Somehow, I don’t think it would be that simple. The mind and body are connected very intimately. Can the body love and leave without taking the mind with it? If the mind loves and leaves, won’t it be miserable? Maybe this is what the mind wants. Maybe it does not yearn for the fullness of understanding and familiarity, maybe it is content with this tryst in the darkness, maybe it is comfortable with unfamiliar faces.

Is this union born out of feverishness, pure desire, desperation, love or longing? Feverishness brings nothing but emptiness. A sense of being drained, exhausted, fatigue. It is like the fire that snuffs out too early and leaves behind a smell of decay. Love is a full emotion, pure and giving. Anything that is born out of love is worth its weight in gold. Any action that has feverishness as its source seldom bears good fruit. I know about it… and I detest that feeling. Not that this aversion has any purpose to serve either.