Sputnik Sweetheart

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Years ago, I read Murakami's Sputnik Sweetheart. I cannot remember how Murakami exactly put his idea about it but I'm putting it this way.

Once in a while, you meet someone whom you get very close to. The first time you have a conversation with her or him, everything is just so spontaneous. The spark is there. And so is the click. Everything is likeable about her or him. You say to yourself, "She or he must be my soulmate."

Days and weeks will pass. Month after month, you get to know more about each other. Likes and dislikes. Wants and needs. Hopes, fears, and dreams. And you wonder how long will you keep on holding to each other. You try to keep yourself interesting to her or him although in yourself, you're running out of tricks and charms already. Would her or his first impressions of you last?

Then the inevitable moment comes. Your phone stops ringing. You stop thinking of new tricks and charms. You stop planning your week ahead. There might be the occassional ringing of your phone though you immediately get disappointed when you see that it is somebody else.

And so here comes a time like there’s no more gravity between you and her or him, and you're left to drift in outer space with no idea where you're going. You become like a little lost sputnik. Or it can also be the other way around. He or she becomes the little lost sputnik. There is no more gravity and he or she drifts in outer space. For some reason, he or she is gone forever in your life.

What are the odds of meeting him or her again? Millions perhaps. But to you, he or she is not just a mere little lost sputnik. Because once there is the spark. And so is the click. Once you say that he or she is your soulmate. Your sweetheart. Your sputnik sweetheart.