Concentration Camp

You know that feeling when all else fades away and all you see is that one person? Yes, that clingy, cheesy, annoying feeling when you can certify yourself to be blinded by love. A little conventional side of yours clears the coast and safely tries to board the ship. It feels exactly like what a Jew would feel attending a German wedding in a concentration camp. Absurd, I know! A little less exaggerated version of that I hope. Today the Jew in me boarded the ship of the German wedding that she always ridiculed. Today I feel like what Mamta Bannerjee would probably feel if she were to marry Narendra Modi. It isn’t a bad feeling, don’t get me wrong. It’s just a novel feeling. It’s as though something just stood up against all odds. It’s as though life attained poetic justice. You’d probably see the irony of it or pray for it to be a phase. And trust me, I hope you are right. But until then I think this ship is becoming. I see the fumes high up in the sky but I also look around me, across the horizon and the view is breathtaking.

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