Love is fun and it is amazing, like little children splashing water on each other. It is deep in its meaning, that it confounds even the wisest of scholars. It is like the tastiest cheese filling inside a hot cheese-burst pizza that drips down your lips at every single bite. Love is solid, sometimes moves like fluid, but most of the time - it is found in the gaseous state, formless. It smells like flowers not found on earth, flies like how the albatross takes flight, and is as sour, tangy and spicy as the pani puri water that you gulp from the street-side shops down the road.
Love is not two people having consensual sex - it is more than the pleasures of the bed. Love is not sending text messages late in the night, because love cannot be contained in words and is not just of the night. Love is not taking the ones you like to the places they like - it is exotically home-bound. Love is not the deep french kisses - for love is the most tastiest, before the tongues could meet. In simple words, Love Is Action Defying Convention.
Love is noticing a strange kid in the railway station bitterly crying not knowing what to do - because she lost her parents in the crowd, and you don't want to leave the child all alone - so you stay with her till her parents show up and you finally see some smile on her lovely small face at the very sight of her mom who comes running. Love is running to help the collapsing old man, carefully placing him inside the stopped autorickshaw and going along with him to drop him at his residence - located in a place you have never been to before. Love is having a gentle evening conversation with the transgenders standing next to their rented brothel and taking them to the nearest A2B restaurant so they could eat good food - while the onlookers throw suspiciously disgusting looks on you.
Love is the real scars you carry because the stitches have left a long mark that would not fade till you die. Love is washing the clothes of all the thirty kids in the children's home everyday - because the caretaker woman who is paid to do the daily chores is pregnant with a fully bulged belly. Love is flirting with danger, not for the fun of it, but to prove a point to the ugly thugs that the poor cannot easily be treated that way when you are around. Love is an epileptic donating blood thrice in a month. Love is giving away everything, even if it would mean - to the last drop of your blood. Love is Precious. Divine. Magnanimous. Always Resides In The Hiding. The Most Beautiful. Modest. Sacrificial. All-bearing.
And very rightly - God is Love!
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