Kashmiri Love

Waking up again for the third time, I finally get out of bed. He comes to my room. “I’m sorry I had something to do. I’ll make you coffee now”. I grab my phone. “Good morning.” From all my three loves. Juggling all their hearts with care and honesty. “I really love you. I want to spend time with you, keep it alive forever. You’re an amazing person”. He understands my words on a day that my head was dysfunctional from last night’s abuse. 

Sitting on a houseboat again. Typical scenario. A man’s world. After doing my yoga having two of them watching me in awe, shower, cut some fruits when my play-boy-friend who wouldn’t wanna let me sleep in the morning calls me over. “Tell me when you’re finished”. The thin line sometimes walked so well. Leaving me my freedom when sending him away, wanting it all when I’m there, just my presence and sometimes everything. 

As I told my love last night that I do care about him even when my mind and soul are torn between people and situations, he replied in an unexpected way of love and understanding as the other ones before. Letting me be free but wanting to be with me as long as I’m there. He’s eager to pursue his mission still with the respectful distance I need. Other than my organizer who won’t stop asking me the same questions, telling me the same things to the matter of not seeing me or respecting my feelings. This was for the last time. I’ve explained myself too many times. 

A guy gets out of the float, steps on the boat and hands me a juice. Aother one puts the table in front me, chips. “Here eat”. Reminders again of me feeding myself from all sides. Meeting my lovely will be an experiment after speaking our mind clearly about what we want. The world waiting again while I need to figure where my next steps will take me. 

Or I will let them be taken. As so many times. The love bubbling around as I leave the house to see my sweet. We put a ring on my finger while I eat a portion of ice cream good enough for three. He takes pictures, I look like a happy bride. Bubbly like the last time I saw him. His heart so bright, so eager to learn, so patient and understanding. „You would look amazing as an Indian bride. This would look good on you“; we walk by a bridal shop selling princess Saris. He’s writing Persian messages on my skin, holding my hand, taking me to the parkland sweets shop. Every time spent with him I leave happy, my heart smiling. Exploring the city once again, seeing more of my surrounding becoming a bigger part of it. Looking into the faces of the military, holding their kalaschnikows, smiling. People greeting me, more crazy coincidences of people knowing me, greeting me. 

“I feel it coming”. My Muslim husband calling three times throughout the day, still giving me all the space I was wishing for. “We’re going to the mountains tomorrow“. The thin line walked again still unfamiliar but a reminder of TT. The gap between love and ignorance so wide, no steps in between. No getting to know one another, no friendship, no connection, no becoming closer to finally become lovers, partners or spouses. From strangers to marriage. The culture, I recognize now, no gentleness, softness, empathy, compassion. Not emotionally, not physically. No love allowed, no public display of affection. Never learned, never seen, never taught. Everyone crossing my way finds no other communication but ignoring me or making me their best friend and therefore sexual partner as their is no friendship or love but only not knowing someone of the other sex or making them their life partner without any further knowledge of their personality, heart or soul. That’s why the gap between saying hello for the first time and hearing the words of love is sometimes only a matter of minutes or hours. That’s why when he reaches his hand out to me, saying: „friends“ and I smile I find myself one minute later as his potential sex buddy pointing me to his mattress. „You wanna have sex?“ I can finally put the puzzle pieces together. Sometimes even a smile is too much as a display of affection. It feels cold sometimes, distant and loveless when in the second you hear: „I love you so much. I want you to be my girlfriend“ being pulled into the next bed. 

Steps made. Nowhere cut short we learn from one another and I feel again why he’s my lifesaver. His depths, his all being. His balance, his sharing with me. His soft heart. 

While my home family escalates in yelling, slapping, blaming coming to me on the balcony telling me to leave the next morning, sending me away from the „drughole“ I throw myself out, into my room packing my things. After all this is good timing as I’m supposed to leave the next day with my homey. We’re going on our honeymoon he said. In shallah on the phone as im writing it down simultaneously, soothing my love with the words of my sweet friend. It’s what she needed, my heart bleeding with her, he calls me to check up on me. Too much going on. My neighbor rejected sex buddy wanting to send me midnight food, as all on a sudden everything shuts down. Quietness. No one is there anymore. My sweet on the phone, my honeymoon coming back bringing food. I hang up. We sit. I thought it was my order, now I had two. Everything entangled again. It’s been a long day. „I loved when you brought me the food in the morning“. Asking someone if they already ate is a love language I read as the love is going around. He’s standing in front of me. Right now. As he ran into me right when he opened his eyes, coming out the boat, me returning from my shopping for the mountains. Not even a look at me but the honeymoon’s up. I finally can make the connection, the feeling remains detached. Morning glory, my Fanclub bright awake as always. „Guten Morgen Germany“. 

The difference of the two men is undeniable. No communication, walking ahead of me, not looking at me, he gets out the boat, bringing…NOTHING. I’m seeing my two day trip becoming very interesting. I start asking him what the fuck is going on, having my backpack on me, jackets, charger, toiletry, boots, snacks, drinks, feeling like I’m in the wrong movie scene. If this will not become my next challenge extracting myself from the situation truly realizing how precious my anchor from day one, how meaningful compared to my daily struggles of communication, having to tell everyone how not to speak to me or how to be gentle to my heart. 

I finally sit in the shared local taxi. 11:11. Thank you universe for the little reminder. On the way. The river turns up next to us. Another reminder. In Shallah.