Romeo and Juliet did not know that, centuries later, scientists would attribute their doomed chemistry to biology - pheromones, endorphins and the Darwinian instinct of survival. That everything is part of the psychology of survival, that it is pre-determined that a male feels sexually threatened while the woman feels emotionally insecure. But then, as is its wont, human folly does tend to limit Valentinian instincts to Homo sapiens, excluding all other species as incapable of the finer aspects of love. Hence they go about their usual business of loving and cheating, fornicating and wooing, fighting savage amatory duels for the objects of their fancies. Like some humans, some species mate for life, and others carry on the habits of their amorous attention spans.
Baboons cheat, eagles are faithful.
That is what is written. Biologically speaking, love is living a lie. In the rush of endorphinal activity, things are said and done, spurred on by primordial instinct. Then settling down to the mundaneness of routine, subsiding into the passing dust of the days, it becomes another shabby story of human coexistence. Nayantara Sahgal's sighs dying on a joyless marital bed or Di and Dodi's ghastly end in a Paris tunnel.