How often do you tell your mom that you love her? Or how often does she tell you that she loves you? In my case I always end up, messing up with her. Or even if I feel like expressing my love to her, I do it by some activity because it is impossible for an emotional retard like me to say things like “I love you”. It just sounds too fake and mechanical to me.
Once I had some argument with my mum over my messed up cupboard. It was after the dinner and she kept shouting from her room about how careless I was. I yelled back from my room that I wouldn’t change whatsoever. But here I was, busy arranging the things where they should be. When I was done, I didn’t sleep in my room but went on to hug her from behind and I slept at once. I didn’t know whether she was awake or not but she did not resist.
The next morning, after I was awake, she again yelled at me. “Is this the way you set up your cupboard? Open it and set it right away in front of me.” It was early in the morning so I thought it was pointless to argue. But as I opened the cupboard, there awaited my favourite Bournville! I looked at the chocolate and my mum in succession. She smiled her most beautiful smile ever!
This smile of hers which held so much of love. This chocolate of hers with so much of sweetness. This imposter scorn of hers which is actually her love… That is what I really feel love is! Not the fake ones which they show in movies or which girls and boys these days babble about. Of course, there are a few exceptions.
Next, I had this (late) pet dog of mine who once took my heart away in silence. I was crying very hard and it just came, stood in front of me wagging it’s tail (It always did so when it was clueless), and the next it wiped off my tears with it’s tongue. Then it just slipped into my lap and made itself comfortable. It was unhygienic of course, but it was so so so better than a thousand false promises or flattery words.
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart.