How deep is your love&;#063;

Love to some is like a cloud
To some as strong as steel
For some a way of living
For some a way to feel
And some say love is holding on
And some say let it go
And some say love is everything
Some say they don't know

At some stage or the other in our lives we experience the gnawing pangs
of an emotion which defies definition. It's a feeling that can only be
felt and not described. An overwhelming all-encompassing joy that comes
saddled with its share of sadness?Love.

Given the hectic nature of our lives it's appreciative that we even
find the time to indulge in matters of the heart. But at the same time
I wonder if we even understand its true depth. I remember having
countless crushes while in school. My maths teacher, our neighbour's
son, my best friend's brother and oodles of others whom I fancied for
the colour of their eyes, the shape of their moustaches or just the way
they walked. Harmless puppy loves that are as ephemeral as soap
bubbles. I can laugh about all those escapades now but at that time
nothing could be more serious an affair (no pun intended) for me. Then
came the stage of real relationships. Being in an all girls' school I
hardly had the opportunity to interact with members of the opposite
gender, and being relatively good at studies the all-too-popular
coaching centres a.k.a meeting grounds were inaccessible territory.
Socials between our school and the boys' college, therefore, would be
awaited with bated breath. Those three hours of unfaltering attention
by a bastion of well-groomed young gentleman provided us with enough
content to talk and feel exhilarated about for the next four weeks. And
even then there was no real need of having a boyfriend.

It's been six years now that I passed out of school and I vaguely
remember only two or three batch mates "going around". We studied, we
played, we lazed around watching television, we blazed the streets of
the main market when we went shopping. We were normal teenagers. But
most of us (even as intrigued as we were) stayed away from the
boyfriend syndrome. Yes I had many friends who were boys, but
boyfriends? No way! They were to be avoided like plague. The primary
concern of course was parental infuriation. Who would want to face
paternal angst against and maternal advice regarding the opposite
gender? Not me.

And I somehow grew up believing that love would happen when it had to.
And sure enough it did. It came at an age when I had a career, a
long-term plan and a more or less settled life (and no I am not yet
25!). I was mature enough to enter a relationship which demands a lot
of give and not so much of take. Love was the edifice I built on the
foundation of friendship. It took time to blossom. It took a lot of
understanding, loads of sharing and caring, and plenty of affection to
become what it is today. And it meant a meeting of minds. You might say
that I belong to the traditional school of romance. But in my opinion,
love needs to be nurtured. And it has to be distinguished from
infatuations and the pleasures of the flesh.

Our parents' generation was fed lavishly with ideals. It was an era of
constraints, restraints, respect, admiration, and oodles of romance.
The long skirts, the demure looks, the curled tresses, the composure,
the sensuality, the shy glance - these are all so hauntingly remindful
of a bygone era. An age where the distance between the sexes somehow
managed to help preserve the sanctity of an amorous relationship. Our
generation, with its openness and fading lines of proximity, has jumped
on to the bandwagon of love with so much haste that it is difficult to
distinguish between physical attraction and mental compatibilities. The
kind of oddities we have been exposed to via the media have fast paced
our sensibilities so much, that taking things slow requires effort on
our parts.

I am amazed when I hear stories of school kids bragging about the
number of physical relationships they have had. I am horrified to learn
that girls barely eighteen have already been in and out of seven to
eight "hook ups". I am sorry to learn about the kind of emotional
baggage these kids are carrying in what are purely unemotional
relationships. Some might blame the current state of affairs on peer
pressure. But has anyone ever stopped to figure out where this peer
pressure originates? Do any of us try and understand who is responsible
for this paradigm shift? Does anyone stop and think how and when we
graduated from innocent love capers of Julie Andrews to the raunchy
antics of Angelina Jolie? Does anyone bother to delve into the psyche
of the teenyboppers?

The mindset of this generation is all too evident in the way it handles
its personal life. There are more relationships buckling under the
pressures of lust than ever before. There is more focus on physical
beauty than on inner charm. There is more of closeness and less of
intimacy. There is more of passion and less of emotion. There is more
of frivolous comradeship and less of companionship. There is more of
acquiring and less of sharing. There is more of opportunism and less of
selflessness. There is more of ME and less of US.

We have hardened ourselves so much in this competitive age that we have
forgotten the essence of relationships. There's much more to being
someone's beau than gifting them red roses and five dollar cards from
Macy's. What about gifting our object of affection our time, our
company, our support, our friendship?? What about setting priorities in
our lives and focussing on each with sincerity? What about trying to be
self sufficient emotionally before letting ourselves loose? What about
giving ourselves, and others, time and space to forge relationships?
What about working towards meaningful and lasting friendships? What
about honouring our commitments? What about channelling our energies
and emotions towards building lifelong bonds rather than wasting them
on seasonal relationships?

We have but one life and we must experience everything that can make us
stronger. True love happens once in a lifetime. And we should not have
become too tired by our frivolous flings that when it comes we aren't
able to receive it with open arms.