How I Want to Love: Meditations on Love Part (1/n)

Disclaimer: This writeup has a whimsical flow to it (on hindsight, all of my writeups do). I take twists and turns into topics randomly, as and when I am reminded of something interesting.

Let me start off by telling a short introduction of how I formed the idea of love.

One great thing that my parents did in my childhood was- never bringing a TV into the house. My concept of love was not moulded by the silver screen or romantic Hollywood tales. In my formative years, I had the unique privilege of growing up in a household without a creativity-killing, ideology-imposing, time-wasting content-machine. As a result, I was shielded from the stereotypical depictions of love often portrayed in Bollywood or Hollywood (or anyWood) movies. In place of those cinematic narratives, my early years were really saturated with a myriad of extracurricular activities. Dancing, singing, painting, learning the tabla and sitar - my days were immersed in one of three things- studies, playing (and breaking stuff in our house) and the arts. It was this environment that nourished my understanding of passion before I even began to grasp the intricacies of love.

This unconventional upbringing (well, unconventional in today's context) fostered a sense of creativity, discipline, and an appreciation for good art. And it was art that allowed me to develop an organic and unfiltered perspective on love, one that was not colored by the romantic clichés often perpetuated in the world of media. It was a love that was more profound, intricate, and inspired by genuine emotions rather than carefully scripted lines on a screen.

As I journeyed through life, this unique foundation became the canvas upon which I painted my own definition of love, one influenced by real experiences and authentic connections, rather than those projected on a movie screen.

A Bit About Movies:

Yes, I have started watching movies, but since my idea of love was already formed, I tend to measure movies with experiences from real life rather than measuring real life with scenes from movies. Why do I do that? Well, while movies (nearly always) show the idealised version, reality often offers a richer, more textured pallette of emotions and experiences.

When I watch movies now, I do so with a different lens. I appreciate the artistry and storytelling, but I also recognise the embellishments and idealisations. I understand that the cinematic portrayal of love is designed to entertain and evoke emotions. And hence, by measuring movies against my real-life experiences, I enjoy movies for what they are without letting them dictate my expectations or ideals. This approach has allowed me to remain grounded in my values and understanding of life, and love.

Love is not a script to be followed or a scene to be enacted.

It is a journey to be experienced, A series of moments to be cherished, A bond to be nurtured.

My Love:

My initiation into the weird world of love took an unconventional path, one that I couldn't have ever foreseen.

When people fall in love with someone's flowers, but not their roots, they don't know what to do when autumn comes. -Dr. Bolu Oladini

It all began when a friend brought a sitar to my house, an instrument of which I had little knowledge at the time. I distinctly recall the sound of the "shuddha gandhar" or "ga," as my friend plucked the strings. On hindsight, it wasn't the skill with which he played the sitar or anything--- for he was an amateaur at the time. Yet, it was in that moment, as that hauntingly beautiful note resonated in the room, that my love affair with the sitar commenced silently, without my consent, without my knowledge. The attraction was instantaneous, an intense and irresistible urge to grasp that instrument and immerse myself in its haunting sound. The world around me seemed to blur as I lost myself in the tone of the sitar for the next week or so that my friend so gracefully agreed to lend me his instrument. Now when I look back, it seems like it was as though I had found my muse, an extraordinary connection that transcended ordinary understanding.

As the days turned into weeks and months, my passion for the sitar grew more profound with each passing moment. It would be wrong to call it an "obsession" but it really was something that consumed my thoughts and time, and my fascination with this instrument evolved into a deep and abiding love. What's fascinating is that this love was not confined to the sitar alone but became a gateway to my relationship with music itself. It's fair to say that my affection for music was kindled through my intense love for the sitar. I can say this because, by the time I got to know about the instrument called sitar, I had been learning the tabla for 12 years, taking vocal training for 10 years, and learning pakhawaj for 3 years already. But I never fell in love with music before. Music was more of a hobby. Sitar made me fall in love with music.

This unique journey allowed me to experience love in one of its earliest forms, and I've cherished it as a foundational and defining experience in my life.

As for falling in love with human beings, I have a quote that sums it up:

I will share your love and sorrow, 'Til we've seen this journey through

Richard Gillard, The Servant Song

The first time I fell in love, it was a sensation I couldn't quite put into words. In fact, I didn't even recognise it as love at that time. It was an experience that happened so naturally and spontaneously; it took me by surprise. Looking back, I can say that it was my inaugural encounter with love. The sitar had captured my heart in a way I couldn't express, not even to myself. I didn't possess the vocabulary to define it as love; it was a sentiment that simply unfolded. It was my earliest, purest encounter with that profound emotion.

"If Thou Must Love Me" and 16 year-old me:

The second significant instance where I explored and connected my experiences of love was in my 10th-grade English Literature class. It was during this time that I came across a poem in our curriculum, "If Thou Must Love Me". The verses of this poem beautifully articulated the very sentiments I had felt when I first fell in love with my sitar. This was the moment when love acquired a language, a framework, and a definition. A big shoutout to my English teacher, Mrs. Nagini Govindrajan, who taught with so much passion and clarity that the subject itself became one of my favourties. It was her, who instilled in me a love for literature. She surely has had a great impact on my life considering that even when I'm writing about Odia literature, I do have her words and teachings in mind.

Coming back to the topic, the poem resonated with me in such a way that it felt like it was expressing my own emotions. From that point on, I sought to find the same depth and authenticity in human relationships, determined to hopefully never settle for anything less. This poem had set a standard for love that I aspired to experience and offer in my relationships. It defined love as a force that transcends the superficial and physical, a love that endures through time and circumstances. It became a touchstone for my understanding of love and a benchmark against which I measured my feelings and connections.

I am attaching a photo of the book which had this poem and I meticulously took down notes in the book because I didn't believe in writing down in a separate notebook- a practice which continues till today. (Although I had to write another 3-4 pages in a separate notebook because so much had to be written down!)

Hastily scribbled notes on "If Thou Must Love Me"

This poem, penned by the great Elizabeth Barrett Browning, has set an indelible standard for the way I perceive and practice love in my life, especially in the context of my future significant other. It's a standard that transcends superficial aspects, fleeting traits, and temporary pleasures. Browning's words remind me that love should exist for its own sake, devoid of ulterior motives or attachments to transient attributes.

The poem beautifully chastises the idea of loving someone for their external qualities—their smile, their appearance, their gentle manner of speaking. It points out the futility of grounding love in such things because, as life unfolds, these attributes can change or lose their charm. Love founded on fleeting attributes can be as transient as those attributes themselves. Instead, Browning passionately encourages us to love for the sake of love alone, a love that perseveres even when appearances and circumstances transform.

Owing to this poem, I don’t think I’ll ever remember the exact reason why I first fell in love with someone or anyone. The initial spark, the specific gesture, the feeling: it all blurs over time. Those reasons, I’ve realised, aren’t what sustain love anyway. What matters more is choosing to love them in the present moment, consciously, quietly. It’s less about retracing the past and more about noticing who they are now, how they breathe next to you now, how they carry themselves on an ordinary afternoon. Some loves aren’t meant to be analysed or archived. They’re meant to be nurtured in real-time, without explanation or memory.

For me, love is similar to tending to a plant: you water a plant, take care of it, and do all that is needed, not because you remember why you planted the seed, but because the plant, at this very moment, stands before you, alive.

I can't go on. I will go on.

-Samuel Beckett

The poem steers us away from loving out of pity or a desire to rescue someone from their sorrows. It teaches that love built upon the foundation of sympathy can falter when the tears cease to flow, and that would be a tragic loss. Instead, we're prompted to love purely for the sake of love, to cherish it, nurture it, and allow it to grow and endure eternally.

In short, Browning's sonnet illuminates the enduring nature of genuine love. It beckons us to cherish love not for the characteristics or conditions of the present moment, but to love for love's eternal essence. The poem acts as a guiding light, reminding me that the most profound love is one that is self-sustaining, evolving, and that endures the tests of time. It inspires me to love deeply and unconditionally, not because of fleeting qualities or circumstances, but because love itself is an eternal force. It is, indeed, an eternal lesson in how to love genuinely, selflessly, and for love's own sake, forever and ever.

My Encounter with Reality:

Now that I have yapped enough about what I want to be like in a perfect world, let's come back to reality [else, what better is this write-up? You should have watched some rose-tinted movie instead].

I have usually experiences love in quiet moments; moments of support, and understanding. Love speaks to me through unspoken bonds that grow stronger over time. I find love in the shared laughter that lightens even the darkest days. It is how people listen to you when you want to just talk about you bad day, or how people comfort you with little gestures after a long day, or how people come together in difficult times. It is always the intentions and effort that matters, for at times, things done out of love might also seem irksome to us.

Isn't it same with the Garden of Love? How can love be worthy of its name if one selects solely the pretty things and leaves out the hardships? It is easy to enjoy the good and dislike the bad. The real challenge is to love the good and bad together, not because you need to take the rough with the smooth but because you need to go beyond such descriptions and accept love in its entirety.

Elif Shafak, The Forty Rules of Love

Recently, I was having a chat with a friend about love. In one of her replies, there was one phrase that didn't sit well with me, where she said "whoever you decide to love".

Now, let's see that from my point of view.

Since I became an adult, understood the ways of love, I have never ever chosen who to love and who not to love. For I always have this one question: Can we really choose who we love? The answer to this is obvious, yet we like to deceive ourselves into thinking otherwise because that gives us a sense of control, which leads to a sense of control. The thought of us not being able to control who we love is unsettling, but so is love.

The form of our love is not a created form.

Jalal ad-din Rumi, Water From Your Spring

Rumi takes on a more spiritual take on the love and I agree with him. Yes, we cannot really create the form of love we want to express towards a person. We can only give how much we have. If a certain form of love is absent from our being, we are incapable of creating it; we can only hope to get it someday and then pray (to whichever Higher Power / God / Goddess / Prophet / Saint that you believe in) to be able to express it. To me, love isn't something that you meticulously select or reserve for a chosen few based on a set of criteria. It’s an innate, expansive force that flows freely and abundantly. I believe in giving love openly and generously to all who cross my path. This doesn’t mean I am naïve or indiscriminate, but rather that I start from a place of acceptance and openness.

When I meet someone, my default setting is to extend kindness, understanding, and affection. Yes, I do have a hundred walls behind which I keep myself; but that is not for my heart, that is for my mind and mental health.

Why leave the heart so vulnerable while I protect my mind so ferociously you ask?

I trust in the power of love to heal and connect, knowing that even if someone proves unworthy of that love, it doesn’t diminish the value of the love I offered. It’s a philosophy that enhances the beauty of human interaction and the potential for positive impact in each encounter.

Of course, there are times when people disappoint or hurt me, intentionally or not, and in those instances, I reassess the number of walls I put before them; and since I protect my mental health at all costs, it makes things much easier for my heart (metaphorical heart not the physical one), and hence it also becomes easy to heal. I will write another blog regarding this wall philosophy of mine. And when I do, I shall put a link for the same here.

Coming back to the topic for a conclusion, my initial stance remains the same: love freely and fully, and let others reveal themselves through their actions and intentions. In a world that often emphasises caution and self-preservation, my perspective might seem idealistic. But I have found that by leading with love, I not only enrich my own life with happiness and love, but also inspire others to do the same. Even if it doesn't it's okay. I look at it as a ripple effect of positivity that creates a more compassionate world. So, when my friend spoke of "deciding who to love," it struck a chord with me because it seemed to limit the boundless nature of love. Love, in its truest form, is not a decision—it’s an inherent part of our humanity, meant to be shared freely.