Love. Mohabbat. Pyaar. Ishq. We have talked about this countless times and have never been able to reach a satisfactory conclusion. In our most pessimistic moments (or practical ones), we have denounced the existence of love. It’s easy, isn’t it, to believe that there is no such emotion that would make us weak, would make us dependent, would give us so many mood swings. And at our most rosy tinted moments, we have heard the violins playing in the background, the hum of songs on our lips, the incessant smile and the wind blowing our hair, making it look the best it has ever. Every person has their own definition of love.. and that statement made me realize how well harry potter books describe the love potion. Each person would smell different smells from the love potion. For me, it would be the smell of earth after rain and since I can’t think of any other smells I like, it would be a deep red color and warm. I would have come up with some taste too.. but I like too many things to eat. It will make me smile like a PG Wodehouse book and give me the anticipation pangs of a GoT book. Actually, for me being in love would be symbolized by sitting in my comfy window seat with a soft and furry blanket and one of my favorite and much thumbed books, with it raining outside and a bowl of sweet corn chicken soup next to me. Love should be such that there is comfort in company and comfort in solitude. Comfort in the silence when both do their own things. Comfort in arguing and comfort in making love. Comfort in sharing secrets and comfort in hiding secrets about others. Comfort in telling about your achievements and your darkest moments. It is about knowing when to ask questions and when to just hug tightly. It is about understanding, caring and supporting. Not to forget, it is about attraction, the fun of flirting and the sexiness of desire. Even when the sexiness turns into moments of comic relief! It gives pain and happiness, irritation and sanity and creates a mess of all. In conclusion, the worst thing you can do is to hold it up to ideal standards. Because, after all, love is flawed.
