Venus and Venus

Let’s jump straight to the point this time. Without much babble about lyrics that are either abstruse or philosophical. We don’t want any of that. So. There has to be something about them. The way they have all the time in the world to not only look, but actually be concerned about all our worries and vices. The way in which they can advertise their weaknesses only because it makes you feel better. The way they have turned predicaments into something fashionable. The way they can take care of you better than yourself. The way they can keep you hoping for the best, and expecting the worst, all at the same time. The way they can remain silent just because you don't know how to talk. The way their pimples seem something exotic and worth emulating. The way in which they hop, skip, and jump, making each of those maneuvers seem like something only they are capable of. The way the words ‘mundane’ and ‘monotonous’ attain new connotations in their presence. The way they rest their chins on their hands in the same fashion, the world over. The way in which they don't change, but mould, you to become a better being. The way they always end up making you feel self-centered, no matter what. The way they inspire good, almost always. The way their gross inadequacies don't seem that inadequate after all. The way their dresses can flatter like no other. The way their love not only teaches you to love, but also hate in return.

Why the big deal about their eyes anyway? What makes us so blind that they manage to become a part of us, so integral that the very thought of coming apart seems unbearable? What makes them think they can make us feel special and neglected when they desire? Why do their little idiosyncrasies make us fall for them, time and again? What makes humility come so naturally to them? Why do we always smile when they crack jokes about us? What secret to happiness have they refused to share with us for so long? Why do they make us remember things we never thought we would? What prompts them to smile at our pathetic jokes and even worse choices? Why do they give us more than we can ever repay? What makes them do all this and then not want to do anything with us at a moment's notice? More importantly, why do their hair still smell so delicious after every bath?

Then there is the other side. Only more abstract and mysterious. It’s revealed in the way their eyes seem so innocent even when they divulge the worst of their crimes. In the way they can perpetuate the most mundane of gestures into fond memories. In the way their affection seems like a distant prospect even when they have shared their most intimate secrets. In the way their association takes you to the brink, and back again, as if it were a game. In the way you always end up forgiving them for wrongs you would punish yourself for. In the way they can fool you into believing that you know them. Yes, girls, they must be having something to them. Something much beyond our limited comprehension. Something special. Ah girls, they still do black magic and still get away with it. Damn.

Venus and Venus

The song was slow and melodious. The lyrics profound and abstruse, just the way he loved them. A melancholy singer, who had died too young to prove his mettle, was crooning in the most wistful of voices. The book lay on the bed, untouched and unopened. The bookmark still extruded from the page he had last been reading. In juxtaposition, the novel had been devoured in a fashion that could only be described as ravenous. But then wait. He had not meant to write about songs or books. So should we, if you don’t mind, digress?

Let’s jump straight to the point. The other point if you please. There’s something about girls. There has to be. The way they carry off nonchalance in the most dignified fashion. The way they make spite sound so amusing. The way they can inspire the very notion of infinity. The way they balance the crooked equation of humanity. The way they instigate malice and malevolence in their most sinister incarnations. The way in which they have turned persuasion into an art form, honed to perfection. The way their hair smells delicious after every bath. The way they can make you read the most absurd of letters until your eyes have started to smart. The way they turn dumbness into a hypothetical concept, not worthy of their attention. The way they have led themselves to believe that spotting one bird, instead of two, is just fine. The way they inspire literature and music alike. The way you can be the one to share their most intimate secrets and yet be frighteningly distant from their affection. The way they can be the only overbearing presence in your life and yet make it feel like it’s perfectly normal. The way they can make you remember each and every nuance of the colored rays of a dying sun, a picture perfect ending to the last evening you spent together. The way you go over their old photographs, just to catch a glimpse of the person you now miss. The way their humility teaches you more lessons than one. The way you feel jealous of their manifold skills and yet adore them for the very same reasons. The way their smiles usher in sunshine in the darkest corners of your lives. The way they bring completeness and void in our lives in such extremities that you begin to hate them for that. Yes, they must be having something to them. Something much beyond our limited comprehension. Something special.

Ah girls. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent. They can be the light at the end of the tunnel, the silver lining, or the curse with no cure. They can do black magic and still get away with it.

PS - Certain glaring grammatical errors in this post were pointed out by Kartoon. Have now rectified them (Y).