Confessions of a Casanova

1

 "Love, how it sells poor bliss for proud despair."

                                                          - P.B.Shelley

The following being the chronicle of a chronically lovesick and perpetually lovelorn soul, the reader shall find a semblance of herself/himself between these lines if she/he is empathetic enough; or disgusted, shall swear at the very soul from whom issues forth these heresies, if she/he is a hypocrite. As for the latter case, Mr.Casanova has insured himself against any such censure by the virtue of the conviction that honesty, in these days, is distorted and projected as obscenity. And the case being that this unforunate tendency cannot be helped, Mr.Casanova would like to leave these torch-bearers of modern morality to their peace and get on with the depravity that he is accused of. He wishes in the earnest to propagate his ideas and beliefs like all those illustrious men; so that they shall survive through the loyal disciples, thereby, preventing the premature death of the same.

Now then, the epicenter of all these thoughts being women - those tender, tentative, mellifluous creatures; rightly addressed by some cerebral man as 'sweet poison' - a considerable degree of 'vicious delicacy' is bound to be reflected in these writings. Hence, let the 'love-patient' begin by distinguishing the disease that afflicts him.

In light of the experience that he has acquired through  his relentless pursuit of feminine affection, Casanova thinks it wont to call woman-kind a 'bait'.  Of course, there are innumerable enticements  in this little world, but as the mouse prefers cheese over coconut, men prefer lady-love over everything. In the end though, both men and mice are ensnared.

At this point, it ought to be clarified that it ain't with any bitterness that Casanova is speaking out his thoughts. And in the name of the first woman who possessed his heart (of whom, he shall discourse in due course), he avers that even at this very moment , women, to him, are sweeter than any honey and more intoxicating than any wine.

2

                 "Love be the lightning that occurs, 
                 When the cloudy eyes converge."

                                                        - Himself (!)

See, an artless man like Casanova turns a poet at the thought of love! Indeed, love happens whenever eyes meet!

Casanova believes that all the men and women are smitten at the very first sight of each other, though only for the fraction of a split-second. This love, ephemeral like the lightning, is unfortunately effaced by the villainous intrusion of reason, discretion and discernment. Now, the verity of this proposition, you can self-attest by listening at the precise moment to that part of your body where the heart is supposed to be.

                   "lo, that tremor in thy heart!

                    At the stroke of Cupid's arrow!!"

                                                        - Himself(!!!)

3 

All being told about the disease and its cause, Mr.Casanova shall now speak of himself - of his wondrous sallies to woo women, of his fiascoes and most importantly, of his indomitable spirit. At the end of it, in all likeliness, men would envy him and his feats; and women might beseech for his affection. As such, to save himself from the trouble of being bogged down by the avalanche of pleas to be loved, Casanova puts forth some criteria, qualifying which, the lucky lady can be assured of his affection.

• He, the beloved, shall only court those damsels who were fortuitous enough to be born  within the span of half-a-decade, before or after him. This is purely out of consideration that any further deviation would almost amount to a generation-change and consequently, a disparity in thoughts and aspirations. Casanova's idea is that silence precedes love, loquacity succeeds it. If on a fine evening, he and one of his sweethearts feel that they should sit and engage in a rambling talk upon some subject, say, great wars (for they are quite common these days), and to their embarrassment finds that one is talking of the Trojan war and the other takes it for World War........what else can explain this discrepancy than generation gap!! So, no to those unfortunate senoritas who were ill-fated to be born quarter-of-a-score (putting it plainly, five) years before or after him. Casanova begs you not to commit, out of despair, any folly like suicide. If you are so importunate, he shall think of making exceptions.
• Casanova doesn't have any insistence upon the colour and contour of his prospective 'other halves'. Fair or dark, pumpkin or hourglass, tall or short - it's all the same. For he isn't all that concerned with the 'material' portion of love. But then, 'ideal' love is essentially reinforced by the virtue of this material dimension. In fact, this is yet another reason for his imposition of restriction upon the ages; so that neither of the concerned would - in the act of fortifying love -  be haunted by the sensation that she/he is cuddling a parched, old log of rotting wood.
• Grace, is a quality upon which Casanova won't, at any cost, afford any compromise. Now, one mustn't mistake grace for beauty. Beauty is peripheral; grace is innate. She who conducts herself with utmost dignity and always has an air of purposefulness about her shall find herself residing at the highest echelons of Casanova's heart. And so does she, who is as innocent as a lamb, and carries herself with utmost simplicity and daintiness, that comes naturally to her.

Provided that these standards are met, any girl can expect a knock at her door at any moment. But before she rushes forth, impassioned, to receive her idol, the happy houri must hear those incredible, amorous tales of the Great Casanova, which might further overwhelm her with awe and amazement ; all the while filling the hearts of those poor men with envy.

Casanova shall, as he had promised earlier, begin from the very beginning - from the first lady who vanquished his mighty heart.

Of his maiden valentine venture

 Ah.....have you seen the moon in full bloom? She was very much the same! Casanova kept gazing and gazing at her, waiting, dreaming of that day he takes her hand in his. But then, one fine day, some Neil 'Arm-stong' set his foot upon her and leering, said, "That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind." How right the wretch was! For, had it not been for him, the Great Casanova would

have ended up in moon; and the earth would have been denied of a phenomenon like him. Thus, he left the moon distraught, seeking consolation in the fact that afterall, even in her full glory, moon was never free of that blot upon her.

He has come to know, from hearsay, that 'Arm-strong' has left the moon due to lack of oxygen and that she has been suffering from desolation for a while now. And Casanova being a magnanimous man with a heart that has too much space and too many windows, it is highly probable that he shall relieve her of the painful loneliness. But now, time has come to speak of his second sally, and guess who the object of his affection was......she was the star!

Of his second sally

Indeed, she was the star!! Though farther than the moon, she unlike the former, never faded from the sight. There in the sky, she kept twinkling and delighting. As she sat a few notches higher in the heaven (prosaically speaking, she dwelled on the third floor of a multi-storeyed apartment), Casanova had much trouble straining his head, but nevertheless, did some serious sky-gazing everyday braving the cramped neck.

But alas! As he couldn't take his eyes off her, he failed to notice what went around her. The fact was that she constituted the very centre of a constellation - ORION, THE HUNTER!!!

What followed was the saga of Casanova being hunted and chased away, until he vanished out of their sight. Today, he comes to know, that too from hearsay, that she is engaged to some 'pole star'-  an impassive man who turned an  android by the virtue of education he had. Casanova wishes couple all the world's good.

But now, he must go on to tell the world about his most illustrious, most daring, most celebrated feat of exceptional gallantry, that qualified him as the greatest lover ever to have sanctified this earth; surpassing Romeo and Don Juan......

She was nothing unearthly.....she was very much the soul of earth.......she was the flower.......

Of the tremendous, tempestuous, third temptation

..................Somebody is knocking vehemently at Casanova's door.........seems like impatience has got the better of some enchanted signorina.........no, there is a plurality about the knocks.......

BY JOVE!!!!.........TO HELL WITH THE SCOUNDRELS!!!.............

Casanova told you good souls of those envious pantaloons, right?! Well, these men, consumed by jealousy, are craving for Casanova's blood!!! They shall, at any moment, break into his house and liquidate him........

Casanova has no desire to live and no fear to die....but for the sake of those fine ladies of this great world, he must survive......AND TO SURVIVE, HE MUST RUN AT ONCE!!!

Dear folks, Casanova avers in the name of Lady the third, to whom he surrenderd his heart's monopoly (of whom, he shall speak at another occasion.....if you are lucky enough) that he shall be back at the earliest to amuse you and even in his grave, shall maintain that women, to him, are sweeter than any honey and more intoxicating than any wine. As for now.....ABSCOND!!!!!

   "Give me women, wine and snuff

    Until I cry out, 'Hold, enough!' "

                                   - John Keats