What does love mean to us today? To someone who has never been in a romantic relationship, or felt that āzingā, it seems overwhelmingly complicated sometimes, other times it seems almost ethereal. With the advent of social media, unrealistic standards and terms like āsituationshipsā, it seems to lean into the complicated end more. So what does one do when reminded of the complexity of it all? Well, I have a story that I go back to often, a small memory that glows warm and comforting when the world becomes too confusing and love seems impossible.Ā
Having lived in both rural and urban spaces, I have been fortunate enough to observe and listen to accounts of love blossoming in both areas. City love is fast, passionate and like the thrumming of adrenaline in your body. Itās dreamy dinner dates, holding hands when you cross traffic, promises under flickering lamplights, stolen kisses in the back of a taxi car; itās your best friend telling you all about her date as she does her skincare and you listen in rapt attention, happy for her. Itās like being on the shoulders of your partner during a concert, or holding up your partner on your shoulders during a concert.Ā
Rural love is slower, itās shy, quiet and like waking up warm on a winter morning, comfortably warm. Itās holding hands in the hubbub and anonymity of the festival crowd, gifts of bangles, earrings and talismans, the umami scent of chaat and street food, the shared joy of working together in the fields and estates and meeting in wild, scenic spots that are yours and yours alone. The encounter I shall narrate to you is one that takes place in my hometown, a Valentineās Day that I still think about.Ā
It was that endearing February evening, and I was probably just 11 or 12, with an ideal of love in my mind, courtesy of all the fairytales and fiction I had consumed. As I pressed my nose to the glass, the bus rolling into the bus stand, my mother sitting beside me, I looked on at the scene in front of me: the bustle of the crowd, children crying, college students with their plaits loose after a long day. I could hear the conductors rattling names of places with a speed and diction that would give any rapper a run for their money. These were normal sights and sounds, so normal, in fact, that my eyes slid to the familiar displays of chocolates, and then the magazines, whiling away time before the bus would eventually rumble and resume its journey.Ā
What arrested my attention that day however, was when a sleek bike thrummed and slid right next to our bus, the riders wearing all black and helmets that matched. The boy sitting behind, holding a pretty bouquet, jumped off the bike and removed his helmet with a flourish as another bus lumbered into the bus stand. He thrust the bouquet in the hands of his friend, who for some reason was entranced by the newest bus, watching it – or was he watching someone? I got my answer soon enough as a girlās face appeared at one of the windows, eyes flitting here and there around the bus stand before finding the bikerās, a smile illuminating her face as she met his eyes.
I watched from my seat with interest as the bikerās friend patted his shoulder, grinning, and exclaimed to him excitedly enough for it to be heard by me: āSheās coming! You have to propose today, okay? We worked so hard for your parentās permission, make it worth it, ra!āĀ
The last thing I saw before my bus finally pulled out was the girl walking to him with a smile that threatened to overflow into a laugh. And then, a final glimpse of him clutching the bouquet that was plastered with a pink heart that said āHappy Valentineās!ā in red scrawl; his eyes crinkled in a smile that was visible despite his helmet.
Sometimes when Iām curled up in bed, watching a 2010ās rom com, I am reminded of this memory. Sometimes, it is pretty easy to want love. Itās easy to think of love in the form of Instagram posts that have been scrutinised to perfection, to think of Valentineās Day as a day for grandiose gestures and expensive gifts. But sometimes, it can simply be a bouquet of flowers and a crinkled smile visible through a helmet. And sometimes, it can be just about love in all its simplicity and a promise to continue that love steadily and surely. I hope that this kind of tender celebration finds me and you one day, a love that is like a breath of fresh air, that is like sipping coffee on a misty morning, or like the opening chords of your favourite song.
Ā A love that is free, a love that is simple, a love that just is.Ā