Love & Care - what does that mean.

 A dear friend shared how much she had to suffer just to study and stand on her own feet. The very people who were supposed to protect her kept testing her strength and putting barriers in her way. Their idea of “love” was to get her married into a supposedly rich and respectable house, so both families could benefit from her labour and services.

“Mujhe tumhare haath ki rotiyan bohot pasand hain… shaadi wahan hogi toh mujhe bhi roti bana kar khila paogi.”

For them, their responsibility was only to get her married, not to support her education or her Doctorate. They claimed they cared, but when she resisted, they decided to “teach her a lesson” by withdrawing support while she struggled alone in another city.

“Iski akal thikane aa jaayegi… apne aap wapas aa jaayegi.”

This was their version of love, care and protection. Years later, when she finally started earning and bought a shawl for her grandparent, they cried and said they were proud of her. I heard this story in a gathering, and sadly, this is not the first time I have heard such a story. It always leaves me thinking: people create endless hurdles in the name of love, and when the girl somehow survives and succeeds despite them, they suddenly say they are proud. But what should one do with that pride? The truth is, they should be ashamed. They pushed her into hell, not to support her, but to see when and how she would break. And society dares to call this “tough love.”

What a deeply twisted and toxic idea of love. A family should be a space of unconditional support, a space that helps you achieve your dreams and find a life that truly fulfills you.

I am genuinely proud of my friend — not because she was “taught a lesson,” but because she had the wisdom to create a different kind of space: one built on real love, care, dignity, and belonging, including the people who truly stand by her.

Longing and in between

 Reminesence of those wondeful times when life was content filled with joy of love and belonging. Warm embrace of the beloved and those flick of hands,a brush against each other. Those random meeting of eyes and a sense of bewitchment. I remember that and the heart ache to belong yet again. To be loved and to love, a feeling that can just be experienced in tendum to another. 

Those eyes which says something, those lips which takes your breath away, one can loose time just by watching her talk, lips moving like symphony. One crave for that what was and yet wants to move past, feeling yet again the love that heals and be content in each other moving past those hurtful heartbreaks. 

The pieces of you that i still hold close

 कभी पूछे वो कि क्या अच्छा लगता है उसमें मुझे,

तो जवाब होगा—

तेरी आँखें… जिनकी पुतलियाँ रोशनी को ऐसे बिखेर देती हैं

जैसे कोई प्रिज़्म जो हज़ारों रंग भर देता हो जीवन में।

तेरी हँसी, जैसे कोई नन्हा बच्चा खिलखिला रहा हो।

तेरे होंठों का यूँ खिसक जाना…

वो जीभ का दाँतों के नीचे हल्के से दब जाना…

तेरे माथे की शिकन, तेरी सिसकन—सब याद है मुझे।

तेरा हाथों से खिलाना… प्यार से हाथ सहलाना…

वो सब कुछ आज भी याद है मुझे।

तू मुझ-सी न बन, तू तुझ-सी ही रह।

मेरा मेरा होना… और तेरा तेरा होना—यही तो सब कुछ है।

तेरा लड़कपन, तेरे नखरे,

तेरे मुखड़े जो उखड़े, वो भोलि सी सूरत—मैं सब याद रखती हूँ,

यही सब तुझे तुझ-सा बनाता है।

तभी तो याद आता है, हर एक पल

भुला देने को यह मन को मनाता है…

पर जब भी रात आती है,

तू धीरे-से लौट आती है… मुझे इतना सताती है।

ये दिल रोता है, बिलखता है…

पर पर के पार नहीं जा सकता।

तुझे क्या याद है वो दिन…

जब हम-तुम साथ थे हरदम?

या फिर इस याद में बस मैं ही हूँ…?