Unraveling on Crimson Threads
“Ever wondered why a broken heart loves more?” read a message from Kasturi. Jinnia smiled. About to stow her phone away and dive into work, she replied, “Maybe because it knows pain intimately and becomes fiercely protective of the other?”
As Jinnia fired up her laptop, a subtle self-reflection set in. Was she, under the guise of conversing with Kasturi, talking about herself? Does she know what beckons her broken heart? The inquiry stirred restlessness. Her heart feels like a bright day, seemingly perfect yet only someone who is perfectly in tune with nature can sense that the blowing gust of wind will bring in a storm and perhaps rain.
Work commenced swiftly. Scanning the mailbox, discarding spam, making calls, and putting the finishing touches to the presentation she had been working on — Jinnia efficiently tackled her morning to-do list. An hour remained before the next Zoom meeting. The tick-tock of the grandfather clock intensified. It invoked a sense of impending dread. She chose to give in to the swirling grief within.
She felt the weight of the past week since Kaushik’s return to Mumbai. Their calls now seem more formal than they should be. They leave unspoken words in Jinnia’s mouth like the aftertaste of very bitter coffee. Her heart aches remembering the playful woman she would become in his presence. When they had first met, the scenario was different.
Jinnia was the silent one in the team headed by Kaushik. She observed everyone in the team meetings, carefully shared her opinions, and politely refused to hang out with her colleagues after work. She liked being in her shell. It guarded the vulnerability that simmered just below her ‘sorted’ exterior. Two months into the project, her input started getting noticed. She was particularly flushed the day when she showed Kaushik the article she had written. It got him so excited that he took out the pages, laid them on the floor, and studied them in great detail. Did she sense the advent of spring in her heart that day? Maybe. But she had always known that Kaushik was married. Instead, she used her admiration as fuel to inspire her work.
Jinnia was enthralled to accompany Kaushik to a conference in Kochi where they presented the paper they had been working on. Things shifted when they sneaked out together from another dreary lecture. She accepted his invitation for dinner at a beautiful restaurant overlooking the sea. Jinnia doesn’t remember how the conversation changed its course from the political choices of the collective unconscious to the intricacies of personal relationships. Kaushik, after all these months, was unabashedly voicing out his admiration for Jinnia. The murmurs from the sea waves whispered to her of the desires she had been turning away from. Twinkling fairy lights overhead accentuated the mocha brown of his eyes. Swigs of red wine did little to soothe her frayed nerves. But they made her ignore all the beaming red flags.
She wonders, why she could not enjoy the pleasures of this romance without falling so deeply for him. She doesn’t have any taboo against no-strings-attached relationships. Does he love her too? Or, is it just another fling for him? Is it possible for them to be together after his separation, or does he want to enjoy a life of freedom now? Jinnia never asked. She notices how, again, she is slipping into wondering about what the man wants instead of asserting her desires. “Recipe for heartbreak”, her therapist would have said.
Jinnia heads to the kitchen. She dips an apple-cinnamon tea bag into the glass kettle. She observes swirling red threads of the tangy concoction getting gently infused with the clear water. She thinks of her mother. Her mother drinks only finely brewed Darjeeling Tea. Jinnia can never match up to the level of perfection she demands. Whether it is a cup of tea or anything that Jinnia does, Ma mostly finds a way to criticize her bitterly. Now, at 31, Jinnia is immune to her ways. Yet, somewhere within her, a child still longs for her praise. Pouring the infusion brought comfort. Its warmth spreading through her palm eased her racing mind. Sipping slowly, she wished for the heartache to fade, breathing deeply into the pain.
Suddenly, something clicks within. A flash of clear insight. She remembers Kasturi’s question. Her broken heart was always searching for its missing pieces. She is surprised as the conversation is more closely tied to her than she had initially thought. Shut away in her shell, Jinnia would unconsciously long for someone who would validate her and reinforce her belief in her abilities. Kaushik’s admiration offered respite to her wounded inner child.
Her phone beeps. Kasturi’s message. “Right, but there is one more angle to it”, it read “Each broken piece loves as fiercely as the unbroken one”. Jinnia smiles. Yes, that’s possible, she thinks. But there is so much more to it. She is feeling a change coming over her. Her wound has untangled, exactly like the swirling threads of the tea. Her heart felt lighter and embraced a perspective shift. She typed, “I agree. But I have been thinking. You know, one often endlessly seeks love from the one that breaks the heart. The cycle of wounding and stories of heartbreak never seems to end. Yet, no one else can know how exactly one wants to be loved. What if we love ourselves with the same fierceness? Wouldn’t then, our stories change?”
