Love

A student wishes to ask his beloved to dance, but she refuses, saying she would only accept if he brought her a red rose. It so happened that in the place where the student lived, all the roses were yellow or white.

The nightingale heard the conversation. Seeing his sorrow, she decided to help the poor boy. First, she thought of singing something beautiful, but soon concluded that it would be much worse – in addition to being alone, he would be melancholy.

A passing butterfly asked what was going on.

“He is suffering for love. He needs to find a red rose.”

“How ridiculous to suffer for love”, said the butterfly.

But the nightingale was determined to help him. In the middle of a huge garden there was a rosebush full of roses.

“Give me a red rose, please.”

But the rosebush said it was impossible, for him to find another – its roses were once red, but now they had become white.

The nightingale did as she was told. She flew far away and found the old rosebush. “I need a red flower”, she asked.

“I’m too old for that”, was the answer. “The winter has chilled my veins, the sun faded my petals.”

“Just one”, begged the nightingale. “There must be a way!”

Yes, there was a way. But it was so terrible that she did not want to tell.

“I’m not afraid. Tell me what I can do to get a red rose. A single red rose.”

“Come back at night and sing the most beautiful melody that nightingales know while pressing your breast against one of my thorns. The blood will rise through my sap and color the rose.”

And the nightingale did that that night, convinced it was worth sacrificing her life in the name of Love. As soon as the  moon appeared she pressed her breast against the thorn and began to sing. First she sang of a man and a woman who fall in love. Then how love justifies any sacrifice. And so, as the moon crossed the sky, the nightingale sang and the most beautiful rose of the rosebush was being crimsoned by her blood.

“Faster”, said the rosebush at one point. “The sun will rise soon.” 

The nightingale pressed her breast closer still and at that moment the thorn reached her heart. Still, she continued to sing until the work was complete.

Exhausted, and knowing she was about to die, she took the most beautiful of all the the red roses and went to give it to the student. She arrived at his window, set down the flower, and died.

The student heard the noise, opened the window, and there was the thing he had dreamed of most in the world. The sun was rising; he took the rose and raced off the house of his beloved.

“Here’s what you asked of me.”, he said, sweating and happy at the same moment.

“It is not exactly what I wanted”, answered the girl. “It is too big and will overshadow my dress. Besides, I have received another proposal for the ball tonight.”

Distraught, the boy left and threw the rose into the gutter, where it was immediately crushed by a passing carriage. And he returned to his books, which had never asked him for anything he could not provide.

© Oscar Wilde

This is my life. I am the nightingale who gave up everything for so-called love. 

Love is not a thing that you do or celebrate, Love is a feeling that happens when you see or feel your to-be-beloved ones. 

Love is not natural, physical, spiritual and other stuffs. Love is simply Love.

And, finding a love is the worst thing I have ever experienced in my life. Finding a love can be harder but to create a same feeling in your beloved ones is a lot harder than any mathematical problems. 

Creating a feeling for someone to ourself is not as easy as scratching your pubic hair when it itches.

Lot of homework and practice. Endeavor for about 1000 times in front of your mates and the moment you get dumb infront of who were supposed to say that and the feeling you get at that time. That feeling is Love. 

Have you ever stared at stars while coming college early in the winter morning ? 

Have you ever thought of yourself without those feelings ?

Have you ever felt that bitter experience when one says “I have a boyfriend/girlfriend.” ?

“Never fall in love. Love is a poison. Once you fall in love, you lose control over your life – your heart and mind belong to someone else. Your existence is threatened. You start to do everything to hold on to your loved one and lose all sense of danger. Love, that inexplicable and dangerous thing, sweeps everything you are from the face of the earth and, in its place, leaves only what your beloved wants you to be.”

Write this statement in a piece of paper. Put it in your wallet. Go to a public toilet. Drop that paper in the toilet. Keep the door open. Shit over it. And flush it to hell. Fuck those writers who writes against Love. 

You can’t let a writer to led him your love life. Just find your love express it and be forever. 

What about time pass love ?

It is the best thing in the world. It is an key for the room which is free for cuddling, kissing and making love. I think these are the only main three aspects of time pass love.

But, if you want make your forever. Ask them for marriage. When he/she accepts don’t forget to give a party to your friends who arranged cell number and Facebook ID for you.

You got married. 

Bride smiled at groom and said,”Don’t forget cut the hairs for tonight.” 

He smiled at her and nodded his head as Yes.

He went to a salon and remembered the day he wrote about it. He scratched it for the last time and waxed it. He experienced worst feeling for the future memories of his first honeymoon. 

Don’t be a virgin. Just find your love. And make love with them. 

And, the last advice. Never follow what writers around the world tells you to follow. If you can’t then be a writer and write for your own. Write for your love. 

Note : If you will get your love you have to lose your hairs, better losing loved ones than them.

– Jaidip Subedi

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