Magnetism Principle of Love

 Magnetism Principle of Love

“Why does love fade away after marriage?” one of my friends asked, sighing softly—as if releasing the weight of a question they'd been carrying for years.

I didn’t answer immediately.
Because somewhere deep inside, I knew exactly what they meant.

There was a time—once upon a time—when we loved each other madly.
When every glance felt electric.
When we could talk for hours without needing a reason, without even noticing time pass.

We felt each other intensely, completely. Words came effortlessly, laughter was constant, and even the silences felt full.
There were no boundaries, no caution—just two hearts speaking freely.

…what a desperate longing, just for a glimpse. Just a faint touch, waves would crash upon the shores of my chest. Where has that heart wandered away? While uttering the words, it felt as if my friend was gently sinking down. Why does love die even though the person still lives.

I placed my hand on his shoulder. He stood upright, as if he was about to collapse and found a strong post to lean on. And yet I knew their long history of love. I knew the days when their love overflowed with joy. I had seen them climb to the peak of their love, right before my eyes – the day they got married, oh the sheer radiance in their faces on that day…that image stayed with me for a long time. And that’s why the sorrow is not only theirs …it’s mine too. Because it was i, who saw them descend from that height- stumbling, slowly, painfully -into something broken, something bitter. Is marriage the assassin of love then? Is fulfillment not the triumph of love, but its slow decay?

What shall I call this?

Of course, I have my own theory. I call it the “Magnetism Principle of Love.”

You see, human nature is wired to chase what remains just out of reach.

This longing, this drive to conquer the unattainable—it intensifies the very force of love. Love, too, is no exception.

As long as there are uncertainties, doubts, obstacles—be it societal disapproval or familial resistance—love burns fiercer, stronger, thriving in secrecy. Just a stolen glance, a whispered word, and oh! the thirst it ignites in the heart.

But the moment society approves, the families nod in agreement, the lovers are bound by marriage—everything begins to change, as if some invisible magic simply vanishes.

Imagine two magnets. Naturally drawn to one another, they cling with unspoken urgency. But now, imagine tying them together with a rope—denying their very nature of attraction, imposing a forced bond. What happens then? Suppose those magnets had hearts, suppose they could think like us— wouldn’t they ask: “If we are already bound, what is the need to pull?

Why exhaust ourselves to stay close, when we have no choice but to remain?”

And that’s how love begins to lose its power.

Marriage—this noble social contract— sometimes kills the very impulse that made love feel alive. We no longer try to hold on, because we believe they will never leave.