Love You, Hamesha and Forever: Dissecting Premature Love
You’re convinced. It’s magic, it’s ishq, it’s pyaar, it’s anything that means you wouldn’t mind giving him the last samosa, or making him your #mcm instead of Shahrukh Khan for the fourth time this month.
When your eyes met at Shagufta Aunty’s house party last month, you experienced butterflies, felt a gust of wind blowing your hair across your face, heard the opening chords to Tujhe Dekha Toh Yeh Jaana Sanam, and constantly felt yourself resisting the urge to run into his arms in a yellow field with a random cow standing around. And so it happened. A few glances and text messages later, he became the daal to your roti, and the possibility of your world without him…hai mein mar java — — impossible.
A few weeks of lost sleep and too many coffee cups later, he confessed his love in the most meaningful, captivating way possible.
When those three words graced your iPhone screen at 4:45 am on January 25, 2014, all you had ever lost was found. You scrolled through his Instagram, double tapped all of his pictures, even left comments…you could finally express your love freely.
Romeo died for Juliet…but him? He promised to block that other brown girl with hair shinier than a Sunsilk ad in his Chemistry class on Twitter. He made your heart feel more full than a Masala dosa. The aloo of his emotion, the way your screen lit up when he sent you a smiley, it was a story no Raj and Simran could compete with.
On your birthday, he proclaimed his love yet again, but this time, he included a birthday cake Emoji. The way he called you “Bae” or “Jaan” made your heart stop and bhangra within your chest.
But like every love story, there is compromise present. It’s a bit different here though: for every minute you spend talking to him, you must complete two minutes of Precalculus. You are at a war with your biggest enemy: yourself. It’s a waste of your time and energy…a road to nowhere. You’re rushing into things…there is life without love out there. The minute you address more importance to someone than yourself, you’re losing.
Love will find you, but for now, be selfish: learn, create, discover and live.
There is so much you don’t know. Every minute you spend over this person in the fetal position on your bedroom floor with a tub of Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream to accompany you is a minute you weren't working on benefiting yourself.
So go on a jog, and try that weird ice cream flavor. Stop living for other people. Trim your bangs by yourself, and dance like nobody’s watching. Laugh louder, speak your mind, and grow a garden. Love yourself enough to walk away, and respect yourself enough to keep walking when no one follows. You are the entire universe is ecstatic motion.
Love isn’t just a goodnight text. Love is fresh tulips every now and then, compromise, loyalty and respect. It cannot simply be felt, it must be understood. It is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It’s a commitment to take #ootd pictures, plan overdone first birthday parties, and the promise to plant seeds of commitment and contentment in the garden of life (vah!).
It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses. Love knows not distance; it has no continent; its eyes are for the stars, not just for screens.