The Tender Art of Being Romantic
What does it mean to be romantic? The word often brings to mind red roses, handwritten notes, flickering candles, or the classic serenade under moonlit skies. But true romanticism runs far deeper than surface rituals. It is not bound by dates, diamonds, or declarations. Rather, it is a feeling that seeps quietly into one’s soul—a sacred surrender to beauty, love, and longing.
Romanticism is, at heart, a way of being. It is not exclusive to lovers. A person may be romantic toward nature, to a memory, to a song, or to an idea that defies time. It is the capacity to feel deeply, to find poetry in the mundane, to be swept by small things—like the shape of a leaf in autumn, the smell of a distant perfume, or the way light filters through sheer curtains on a lonely afternoon.
Romance as a Philosophy of Life
Romanticism is a gentle rebellion against the dry rationality of life. It refuses to see the world as a collection of transactions and timelines. Like the great poets—Keats, Tagore, Rumi, or Kalidasa—the romantic spirit does not chase completion; it dwells in yearning. The journey matters more than the destination. Love matters more than logic.
In Indian philosophy, Shringara Rasa is the aesthetic essence of romance—ranging from the divine love of Radha and Krishna to the ethereal pining of Meera Bai. This form of love is not physical alone—it is spiritual, transcendental, and filled with a longing that makes one more alive than fulfilment ever could.
Similarly, in Sufi thought, divine romance becomes the soul’s desire for union with the Beloved, where the ache itself becomes the prayer.
Pleasure in the Sensuous and the Subtle
Romance delights in the senses—but not in vulgarity. It is refined, slow, and deeply attentive. It savours the texture of silk, the warmth of a hand, the shiver of shared laughter. A romantic soul finds pleasure in anticipation—the soft thrill of waiting for a letter, the secret joy of remembering a shared moment, or the touch of one’s name spoken lovingly.
To the romantic, a sigh can be symphonic, a smile, a sunrise. The very air shimmers when love is near. Time slows down. Conversations stretch like rivers. The world becomes a painting, and the beloved, its muse.
Romance isn’t only pleasure—it is presence. The true romantic is fully there—body, mind, and spirit. In today’s fast world, such presence is rare, and hence more precious.
The Romantic in Daily Life
Romanticism lives quietly in everyday life. It’s the way one brews tea for someone they love. It’s the handwritten grocery list tucked into a book. It’s the lullaby sung to an empty room. A romantic doesn’t always express through grand acts—they live love in gestures small and sacred.
One can be romantic without a partner too. Loving the self, nurturing dreams, tending to plants, watching the stars—these are deeply romantic acts. It is an art that asks us to slow down, feel more, and honour life with awe.
Romance and Vulnerability
To be romantic is also to be vulnerable. It means risking rejection, embracing uncertainty, and baring the heart. It is not the shielded warrior but the open-hearted wanderer who feels most deeply. Such vulnerability is strength in its purest form—it invites connection, empathy, and emotional truth.
In a world where many hide behind sarcasm or indifference, the romantic chooses sincerity. They would rather be hurt in love than never love at all. As the Persian poet Hafiz wrote, “The heart is a thousand-stringed instrument that can only be tuned with love.”
When the moonlight paints the windowpane,
And memories sing in gentle rain,
I find romance in quiet breath,
In every pause, in every death.
A glance across a crowded street,
Two strangers’ hearts in secret meet,
No word exchanged, no vow to keep,
Yet dreams begin to softly weep.
For love is not in grand display,
But in the things we fail to say—
A touch, a sigh, a yearning glance,
The whispered hope of one last dance.
And in the hush of midnight air,
A lover’s hand, a lock of hair—
Pleasure hums in every kiss,
In sacred ache and stolen bliss.
So let the heart forever roam,
In gardens, letters, books, and home
For those who love with soul and grace,
The world itself becomes embraced.
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