In the closing scene of the play from the movie, Birdman, Riggan Thomson (played by Michel Keaton) mumbles something and nearly blows off his nose in order to commit suicide. He says, “What do we talk about when we talk about love?”
Love is amongst those few things in the world which still remains inexplicable. What exactly is love?
A feeling? An emotion? A thought? A form of Anger? Affection? A Lie? A kind of Respect? Trust? What exactly is love?
Love is an amalgamation of all the above mentioned and all that is not.
Is love the most serene feeling? I doubt. Is love the solution to every problem? Maybe. Is love the answer? Yes. Definitely yes!
One may not believe it but, my friend, love has changed the world a million times fortnight. Love has untangled many hearts with a single beat. Love has helped discover life and death. Love has won many battles and is the reason for a few too. And love is not surreal. Love is nothing but nature’s call to tell humans that some imperceptible things are worth living for.
Love is not when you sit down on your knees, with a rose in your hand, and confess how you feel about the other person. Love is also not about saying it ten times a day or even more if you’re love struck. Love was never meant to be said. Love was never in the air. It is there, inside, sound and safe. Even the coldest rock possesses it.
One just needs to accept it.
And what do we talk when we talk about love?
How do you talk about a notion which doesn’t even have a proper definition? Some talk about the vows. Countless vows with the inefficiency to fulfil them. Some talk of their mothers as love. And then there are some people who talk everything but love. People like them love in the most eccentric ways. They may not necessarily say it or even show but it is there. They talk about the people they love to the whole world, describe how they make them feel special, and how much they mean the world to them. They’d beat drums in their admiration but never in front of the people they are supposed to say in the first place. They talk absolutely normal and sane and yet inane. Their love would come down in drops to be treasured for an amaranthine pearl.
Love was never easy. It is not supposed to be.
You don’t have to necessarily break mountains or pull down a galaxy of stars. Good things do not come handy. Love is ordinary but what more important is, how you feel it. People like them crave for ordinary because it is the new rare.
“Have you had your dinner? How was your day? You are an idiot. You’ll rock it I know. Go home safely, kid. You’re the best father. She is stupid but she is my sister.”
This is love. Recherche yet priceless. We don’t love ordinary but the way some people we love make it, like a grape served in a white gold plate with rose petals, topped with dark cocoa syrup and fragrance from heaven.
Love is no magic, no illusion and no fantasy. Love is a smile by the one you care for. Love is the sweet nothings you share at midnight. Love is growing up together. Love is sharing mistakes. Love is cursing each other after a feud and laughing it off together later. Love is not talking to each other whole day long and still planning conversations in your head for the other day.
Love comes from you.