The Enduring Allure of the Unfinished Tales
The Unsung Beauty of Incomplete Stories
In a world obsessed with picture-perfect endings and fairy-tale romances, we often overlook the profound beauty of incomplete stories. As a stoic observer of life's grand tapestry, I find myself pondering why society glorifies only those tales blessed with Hollywood-worthy conclusions or tragic Shakespearean finales.
Ok back to the blog.. let’s address
The Folly of Perfection
Let's be honest, shall we? When someone proclaims they want a love like Romeo and Juliet, one can't help but wonder if they've actually read the play. A double suicide hardly seems the ideal relationship goal, does it? Yet, we continue to place these narratives on pedestals, ignoring the rich tapestry of experiences that lie in the spaces between.
Love in the Time of Commercialism
Remember Valentine's Day? That annual festival of commercialised affection. What started as a humble Christian feast day honouring a martyr has morphed into a carnival of heart-shaped chocolates and overpriced roses. One can almost hear the cash registers singing love songs. I can’t help but think that condom brands have a huge golden opportunity. I mean, let’s face it: exactly nine months later, we’re celebrating Children’s Day! Talk about fast-tracking your love life. So unless you’re ready to trade in romantic dinners for diaper duty, perhaps it’s time to take it easy on February 14th. After all, nothing says "I love you" quite like a little foresight and a well-placed reminder that instant gratification can lead to some rather long-term consequences!
What is my personality type when it comes to matters of the heart? Well dear readers I am a self-proclaimed 'romantique' (a delightful portmanteau of romance and antique, if I do say so myself). You see, I'm rather old-fashioned in my approach to matters of the heart. Swiping right? Not for me, thank you very much. I prefer the time-honoured traditions of lingering gazes, shared adventures, handwritten letters (fine I’ll settle for postcards too) and the simple joy of a good cuddle during a film. I'd take a slow walk and a deep conversation over staged PDAs or a perfectly curated Instagram post any day, especially the ones that begin with “My Universe” or “The Queen of my castle”. (Barf!!). I know, I know - you're probably stifling a yawn already. "What a bore," you might think. But hold your horses, for things are about to get rather interesting.
You see, over the years, as my poor heart has been battered and mended more times than I care to count, my perspective on love has undergone quite the transformation. I've come to realise that one of life's great tragedies is our collective dismissal of unfinished love stories and unrequited affections. "Why bother with such tales?" you might ask. "Where's the ‘Perfect’ ending? The box office appeal?"
Well, my cynical friend, I'd argue that these incomplete narratives hold just as much value as their more 'successful' counterparts. After all, what is success in love? Is it the couple who plasters their relationship all over social media like some sort of digital billboard? Or perhaps it's those who mistake comfortable silence for a lack of affection? Maybe it's the pairs who walk on eggshells, their bond perpetually teetering on the brink of collapse at the slightest hint of discord? Or better yet, those who seek carbon copies of themselves, as if being birds of a feather were the secret ingredient to lasting love?
If you ask me my favourite Christmas movie, without a moment's hesitation, I would declare it to be Last Christmas. It has everything I love - London and GEORGE MICHAEL (I meannnnn….)
This delightful film follows a young woman, played by Emilia Clarke (remember Khaleesi from Game Of Thrones?), who is stuck in a rut, working as an elf in a year-round Christmas shop. Her life takes a turn when she meets a charming stranger, portrayed by Henry Golding, who helps her see the beauty in both London and herself. It's a beautiful story filled with moments of self-discovery and unexpected twists—like discovering your romantic interest is actually your …..(I will not give out spoilers don’t you worry!!). I mean, talk about a plot twist! The performances are nothing short of enchanting, particularly Emma Thompson as the good-hearted yet strict shop owner who doles out wisdom like it’s candy. So, if you’re looking for a festive flick that serves up both laughs and heartfelt moments—albeit with a side of existential dread—this one’s for you. Just remember to keep the tissues handy; you might find yourself weeping into your mulled wine! Let me share the trailer with you.
Now, I'll admit, I'm not quite ready to pen the next great romantic novel. My heart, while bruised, hasn't quite reached that exquisite level of torment required for true artistic genius. But perhaps we can start with a rough sketch, a mind map of sorts. After all, even the greatest love stories had to start somewhere, didn't they? So, let's embark on this journey together, shall we? Who knows, we might just stumble upon something beautiful in its incompleteness.
So what do we call it? The Unfinished Symphony of Two Souls? I don’t know, let’s revisit it later.
In the bustling heart of a city that never sleeps, there stood a young woman, an editor by profession but not a dreamer at heart. Her task was monumental - to breathe life back into a dying creative magazine, once the crown jewel of the artistic community. Little did she know that this endeavour would lead her down a path of self-discovery and unspoken love.
On a crisp autumn morning, her heels clicked against the pavement as she stumbled upon a quaint store. It was a treasure trove of creativity - shelves lined with dog-eared books, vinyl records whispering tales of bygone eras, and vintage cameras capturing moments frozen in time. The air was thick with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the musty scent of well-loved pages.
As she stepped inside, the haunting melodies of Opeth's Persephone caressed her ears, an unexpected yet welcome embrace. The music seemed to dance with the dust motes floating in the shafts of sunlight that streamed through the windows. “What an unusual choice of artist given the nature of the store but what a lovely track”, she muttered to herself.
“Hehe, interesting. Did you know Opeth used to be my religion once?”, a voice like warm honey interrupted her reverie.
She turned, and in that moment, time stood still. He felt like home. Or maybe a warm blanket. His eyes, deep and enigmatic, held galaxies within them. They were windows to a soul that seemed both ancient and youthful, wise yet curious. Her heart skipped a beat, and she told herself, “Those eyes will be the end of me”. She silently prayed her thoughts remained unheard. “I was just passing around and I saw this place and it looked really interesting. I am an editor and I needed a place to come and work.”
He realised he was studying her and suddenly broke her pace with, “Would you like a cup of coffee?” “Huh?”, she was puzzled. And replied, “Yes, an Americano please and no sugar”. He kept the gaze on but now had a half lingering smile.
Their conversation flowed like a gentle stream, meandering through topics of art, life, and dreams. He, a photographer with a passion for preserving dying art forms, and she, an editor tasked with reviving a creative legacy. Two souls, different yet complementary, like the interplay of light and shadow in a masterful photograph.
Days turned into weeks, and their bond grew stronger with each passing moment. They never shared a kiss, but their laughter intertwined in a dance far more intimate than any physical touch. Their texts were like secret messages in bottles, floating across the digital ocean, each one a treasure to be savoured.
But fate, in its infinite wisdom, had other plans. She had to leave, miles and continents separating them. Yet, in the face of this separation, she remained unperturbed. For she had discovered the quiet strength of unrequited love - a love that asks for nothing, expects nothing, but gives endlessly.
In her new life, she found him in the changing seasons, in the notes of a familiar song, in the burst of flavour from a cherished dish. She penned letters filled with unspoken words, each one a testament to a love that transcended physical presence.
He, on the other hand, poured himself into his craft. His love for art deepened, his passion for capturing the world's beauty intensified. Perhaps he loved her, perhaps he didn't, he will never show and she will never know. The beauty lay in the uncertainty, in the unfinished nature of their story.
As the years passed, their paths existed in parallel, yet remained inexplicably intertwined. Their story, like a masterful photograph, remained eternally captured in that moment of potential - neither fully realised nor completely lost.
In the end, it wasn't about the destination, but the journey. It wasn't about possession, but appreciation. It wasn't about completion, but the beauty of the unfinished. For in this incomplete symphony of two souls, they had found something rare and precious - a love that existed purely for its own sake, unburdened by expectations or demands.
And so, their story remains - a testament to the power of connection, the beauty of imperfection, and the enduring allure of the unfinished tale.
The Evolution of Love
As one weathers the storms of heartache and healing, one's perspective on love inevitably shifts. And here's where it gets interesting. Why do we not give more credence to the unfinished stories, the unrequited loves? Is it because they lack a tidy conclusion? Or perhaps because they don't make for blockbuster films?
From a stoic perspective, there's a certain nobility in this kind of love. It's not bound by societal expectations or the need for reciprocation. It simply exists, pure and untainted by the complexities of long-term relationships.
What do you think?
I am going to raise a toast to the incomplete stories, the almost-loves, and the what-ifs. For in their incompleteness, they achieve a kind of perfection – a snapshot of pure potential, forever unsullied by reality.
While buying flowers and chocolates is all well and good, true love might just be in those unspoken words, those silent remembrances, and yes, even in letting someone eat off your plate. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some vinyl records to listen to and some vintage cameras to admire :)
Love and Warmth,
TID
(Tanushree Ishani Das)
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I loved this article!!
It was a beautiful read. And probably, the reason why I liked it so much was that our take on love is the same. We believe in the authentic form of love rather than the forced and commercialised one.
Good job, TID! 🥰