Love Me Or Hate Me

He says he hates me.. but he also hates to see me dour and dreary. He can’t brook my watery eyes and vents in prodigal outrage. He vexes, flusters and hurts me so many times, yet he makes me ecstatic so many more times. He comprehends my mind even before it materializes on my face. He never thinks about how to make me happy, yet his little inconspicuous actions bring a smile on my face. He says he wants me to relinquish my prerogative in his life, yet he spends every infinitesimal and momentous moment with me. He says we can never be together, yet he envisages a future with me. He says he hates me, yet in his hate I discern a clandestine love.

Perhaps this love is a mere figment of my imagination. Perhaps professing hate is much simpler than professing love, for it doesn’t tag along the encumbrance of expectations. Or perhaps proclaiming hate is much more exciting and thespian than the honest expression of love.

They say love is a four-lettered illusion. But what is a stronger illusion than love? It is hate. It is a four-lettered weapon which has proved fatal time and again when abused by perfidious and mercenary our-kinds. For it is much easier to incite hate than to incite love and respect. And it is human nature to take the easier way out.

Love and hate are never independent of each other. There is hate, only where there is love. Subject who are beyond the realm of love, are also beyond hate. For subjects we know not of.. we harbor only indifference and apathy. Apathy is not synonymous with hate, it is pure oblivion. Love and hate are not black and white. They are overlapping sets of feelings and there is a whole spectrum in between.

Hate is born where love fails. Failure to bear the ponderous burden of expectations anchored to love, incites disappointment and anguish, which gives way to hate. Good examples are public figures. Their actions give rise to immense love, affection and reverence in the hearts of the masses but when the same masses are crestfallen, unfathomable hate and resent arises.           

They have asked, what is love? For me the vital question is what is hate indeed? Not because I am proficient in the ways of love. I am just as confounded and drift as anyone else. But I believe that love can find its way, while hate to me is like a missile gone astray, vulnerable and perilous.

Thus, hate in itself is a mere illusion which makes one believe that they indeed despise the subject, while it actually reflects their disappointment in their love for the subject. At other times, hate is merely a façade. A façade used by cowards to hide their vulnerability.. Cowards appalled by their own ability to love..  For some others, hate is a tool for spicing up their rather insipid and humdrum lives. Being spectator to the formidable farce of violence mustered by the deep-rooted hatred is the only form of entertainment remaining in their dreary lives. Nevertheless, the tic-tac-toe of love and hate is what is holding the universe in equilibrium.

Love me or hate me.. your records shall always remain spotless. Love me or hate me.. I behold the mystic love in your eyes.