Single

I

Who is a single woman?

 She is a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, somebody who decided she wouldn’t get married in a hurry, somebody who decided to wait for “Mr. Right” to come along.

She is a woman who was in a relationship, not so now but hopes to be in one tomorrow—Eat, Pray, Love.

She is a woman who was married but now divorced—incompatibility issues.

She is a woman who was married and stayed married for long till she could no longer bear the abuse.  She was a woman who married eagerly recently and discovered her husband was violent. Or perhaps her in-laws were abusive. She left him.

She is a woman who was abused as a child and could never settle into a relationship.

She is a woman who was raped—anxious, sometimes wanting and sometimes not wanting marriage.

She is a woman who wanted to be married but was not beautiful or wealthy or qualified enough for the “arranged marriage market.”

She is a woman who has cerebral palsy, or polio, or cannot hear or see. She is autistic. Sometimes she cannot comprehend your questions properly. She stammers, stumbles, splutters, and fumbles. Nobody thought she might need to be married.

She is a woman who wanted to be married but was born to a once-widowed, once-divorced mother—unsuitable in “arranged marriage markets.” Out of compulsion she has to search via the “love marriage” route. Hasn’t found one.

She is a young woman who was married and lost her husband to a deadly disease. She is an old woman who lost her husband of many years to old age.

She is an old woman, now widowed or perhaps never married, who discovers she never experienced love in her life.

She is a middle aged never-wanted-to-marry woman, now seeking something different. Or she is a middle-aged never-wants-to marry woman.

She is a woman who wants to experience relationship again. To find her soulmate.

She is a woman who dislikes relationships—intense, intrusive, damaging. She prefers to be the bride for one night.

They are brides of one night, or perhaps few hours, hoping for a miracle, a dream of consorting with a unicorn who will transform this brief moment to a permanent relationship, while below neon lights glow and dingy rooms continue to skank of sex.

She is young, beautiful and desirable. She is HIV+ve. From birth.

II

For all, or many, or at least some, if they be conscious, an ache—like the unoccupied seat next to you in a bus, like the memory of a honeysuckle fragrance eons back, like a cigarette stub burning away, like the sun setting in the horizon, like the emptiness of a car on long solo trips, like a lingering, unshakeable hangover, as an unbearable heaviness of being, as a lack of, a should-have-been, an absence.

III

Walk with me, dear ones, to the golden seashore. Plant your feet firmly on the sands and as you watch the waves ebb and rise, shift your weight gently to one foot. Lift your other foot and rest it on the standing leg, as is comfortable—on the side of your ankles, or your calf, or your thighs. Straighten your spine. Bring your hands together in a prayer pose. Breathe deeply.

Feel Earth’s energy coursing beneath the sole of your foot. Feel her ache as she seeps into, coursing through your legs, thighs, piercing upwards through the abdomen, to engulf your heart. Feel her presence, her longing, as she rages ahead through your throat, filling your face and exploding from the crown of your head.

Feel Heaven’s arms as s/he reaches out to an embrace, sinking with Earth through your head, swishing inside your face, embossing your heart, slipping and tumbling down the duodenum, down, down through your legs, oozing out of the foot into the beach sands.

Feel them rising again through you and sinking again inside you in each other’s arms. Watch this play again and again. Till your body becomes the site of their love games, the site where Heaven and Earth dance together.

Watch as you become steady, still, tear up in joy, as love sprays into a fountain, as you dissolve, become light in the golden light of the golden sunset on this golden seashore.

Become single—in peace, in wholeness, and in love.

Happy Valentine’s!

[Dedicated to the friend who taught me the one-legged tree pose (Vrikshasana) and the many visualizations]