Original post date on blogspot : 22/02/2016
The thing behind the first word. The thing about the first smile. The thing about the first miracle. The thing about the first sight. The thing about the first fight . The thing around the first wink. The thing about the first letter. The thing behind the first secret, the thing behind sharing it the first time. The thing about the first tear, the thing behind the first palm to wipe it away. The thing about pulling through. The thing about the first walk to the park, the first walk through the park. The thing about the first flower and the first wilt. The thing about holding a finger, to holding a hand, to wrapping round a palm and also joining ones both in a prayer. The thing about knowing that it almost never ends up to be the “first” of everything every time, In short, the thing, about love.
Love is that miracle that helps us be. The feeling behind our first breath, the feeling behind our first cry and also the feeling on our mothers little finger, tight, for the very first time, It brings us this world of ours, helps us grow with it, through it , while it enjoys a seat in the bench and only comes in as the super sub when we cry for help (and not everytime is it heard). A parents love knows no bound, it is biased, loud, tough and binds us like a cloud round the summer sun , it gets denser, the more it burns and then drains itself out , only to put it to rest for a while. We learn our first words and use the rest on them, they smile. We bring down all our wrath on them, they soothe. We cry our sorrows out to them, they strengthen while breaking down inside. They lay their palms with petals of roses for us to walk on and have them pierced by as much thorns as they can. The thing about love to them is sacrifice —- with a smile.
The love of a sibling is perhaps the most confusing of all. They begin as arch enemies, and come to think of it , they prefer to stay that way. They will drag each other to the corner of the cliff but will still not let go. Even if they fall they fall together. Its the fear that counts. Hairs are pulled, notes are misplaced, study sessions are disrupted, slaps are thrown and even then the smallest of jokes are shared, the smallest of pancakes are eaten half, the biggest of hearts belong to the other, the strongest of supports are what they are to each other. A sibling always knows when the other is in trouble and draws out every possible hay from the stack to look for the needle and remove it. The elder one holds the hand of the little one forever and pulls him through no matter what. When the news of a heartbreak comes they are the first to quip, “i had told you so!!”, but the only one to sit beside and tell, “come on! as long as you are into people, everything is going out fine”, and the best part is, perhaps the only person in the world who means it. The first wake up call, the last goodnight wish, the first career solution and the first relationship mockery, they see it all, but the best part, they see you through it all. Love of a sibling is unbearably unbearable yet a predilect without which your life remains a forever half portion.
Love for that special one ( from a guys stand point) . It is something new, something unprecedented, something that hits you out of nowhere although you might have seen it coming and wanted it but you relish the mystery and suddenness of it. The first time you learn that seeing a person can actually give you goosebumps and make you want to be stupid by choice. The first time you know that the feeling of being complete is actually incomplete until you meet that very stranger you becomes your own to fulfill your own. The dream giver, she turns out to be the dew on the pebble that every bare feet looks for in the early morning field. The first time you feel like taking up a pen rather than your voice. The first time you stare without having the least bit of idea why you are doing so. The paradox of strange insight gulps you down and by the time you realize it you are deep in the abyss of “everythingness”. She becomes a part of you as much as you never were to yourself. You begin hitting the backspace more than the spacebar just to get those words out perfectly for her, to her and still feel like you should have gone for a “feel” check. She smiles anyway and that not just makes your day but gives you the arm to hold (or atleast dream of holding round, but that’s another story. lets not dim the lights) to make your entire world around it.
God claims all, sees all, loves all and yes seeks the love of all that ever was, ever is and ever will be. Love of God is a miracle, a miracle to show us light in forms old and new, in pictures, statues and shadows, in mysteries one would never see the end of, in arguments one would never wind and most of all in ways one would never measure. So we pray and we promise what we fail to often realize is nothing, not a stone turns out of a plan, and so our thoughts, they never really are our own, they are verses from names unknown, from places unknown just making their were through our heart to our actions.
So for the love of all there is to love and for the love of life lets not lose out on love and let love never lose out on us for its there from the cot we breath out first, to the laps and arms we breathe through and the shoulders on which we breathe our last..