Aliya Naseer Farooq
Grow old along with me
The best is yet to be
When our time is come
We will be as one
God bless our love
John Lennon and Mary Chapain Carpenter have borrowed heavily from Robert Browning’s timeless poem on love. Making this prayer of love an eternal favorite among lovers; an anthem of love, giving them hope and solace for the trying times ahead.
Love – the very word evokes images of youth, freshness and vivacity. Yet, ‘Grow old along with me’, is a more mature take on the feeling. It is like looking beyond, ‘two branches of a tree facing the setting sun’.
The hills, the setting sun and the two of you together till the blonde or brunette head of hair turns ash grey and the fair brow is lined, the supple cheeks are sallow and the bright eyes are not so bright, anymore.
Puppy love, young love, love at first sight: the common denominator here is love – but there is nothing common about it. Love is God’s miracle. Love is what makes the world go round. Take away love and the world might veer off its axis and go crashing into another planet or something. Love keeps it in place. Love keeps us in place. Love gives us roots and plants us in the heart of the beloved from whence to grow and prosper. Our branches reaching high into the sky, the flowers and fruits adorning the home and giving shade to the tired homecomers.
We all (almost/mostly) fall in love at some point in our lives. The intensity and angle being as varied and diverse as God’s plenty! Some fall deep, some head over heels while others fall sick – love sick. The variety is endless. Romeo – crowned by some as the prince of romance – the pining poetic lover wandering aimlessly in the woods all night; crying and moping. In another’s opinion, he is a hormone crazed, ‘short- sighted twirp’ who kills himself four days after meeting his lady love. Standing beneath the balcony, he gazes up at Juliet, ‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks…?’ and goes on to scale the heavens and stars to compare her beauty to celestial objects; the sun, the moon and the stars.
Love makes fools out of sane men, they say. In Romeo’s case, no effort was needed in that area!
Being a perennial student of literature, I have had the privilege of studying the lives and loves of poets, writers and other creative geniuses. To my shock and surprise, I found out that those who string words in verses like roses in a garland – in real life they are such bozos…for want of a stronger word! Take Percy Bysshe Shelley, for one,
‘I have drunken deep of joy,
And I will taste no other wine tonight…’
and
‘ A poet is a nightingale who sits in the darkness, and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sound…’
Like Mary Wollstonecraft, who would not get besotted with a young man who writes like this? Only to learn the extent of moral depravity, complete disregard for any emotions except his own.
In her book, ‘The Mad, the Bad and the Dangerous’, Catherine M. Adronik highlights ‘the scandalous lives’, ‘the drugs, delusions and debauchery’ of the worlds’ favorite Romantics.
Poets fill our heads with crazy ideas and make our hearts leap with the wizardry of their words. Youth is their focus and the young follow like mice do the pied piper.
Movies and stars are the new age poets, they lead and the young follow. It has always been and always will be. The young will leap before they look, fall head over heels in love, act in haste and repent at leisure. That is the fascinating passion and pathos of young love.
Browning’s words are more ripe –
‘Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. Our times are in his hand….’
When you do grow old with the love of your life, take it as a privilege, a gift and a blessing. I am not going to tell you golden lies about coming of age. It is not very pretty! I must add that by the time you are halfway through life’s journey, your head kind of becomes more firmly placed on your shoulders and your eyes wander less. You learn to look beyond the surface. See the unseen and hear the unsaid. Wild love songs and bouquets of red roses make your heart beat faster in the youth – love shifts and changes form over the years. Through the ups and downs you learn to love the idiosyncrasies of your beloved.
When my husband goes to three shops looking for my favorite detergent, it seems that my laundry smells of a hundred roses. There are fewer bouquets now but lots more love.
