Where Is My Darcy?

Of late, I find myself obsessing again over my favourite British classic novels. My favourites are Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell and the Bronte sisters. Watching screen adaptations increases the fervour manifold. With the kind aid of the Progress Package I acquired for myself the most coveted DVDs of Wives & Daughters and Pride & Prejudice (BBC series and 2005 film versions). Needless to add that I was in heaven for about a week watching them.

But with that, the yearning to find a soul-mate, a companion, a man of my own surfaced again. I was not depressed. It just put me into a wistful mood. I miss being in love with someone. I miss the intense emotions that course through me, making alive every fibre of my being.

I have not found someone who moved me that way. Not since the last one. And somewhere in the clouds of despair that now and then overshadow me lies a tiny glitter of hope. That it’ll happen again. Till then, I amuse myself with my celluloid heroes.

In the words of a Billie Holiday song:

“Someday we’ll meet
Then you’ll dry all my tears
Then whisper sweet little things in my ears
Hugging and a-kissin’
Oh what we’ve been missing
Lover man oh where can you be?”