Across borders, cutting through caste and class lines, all folklore and fables speak a common language. The language of love. Each one is an epic in itself. Be it Romeo and Juliet, or Beauty and the Beast. Love wins all. Love triumphs. Love sells. Yes, you heard it right. Love sells.
But another point of note is that these epics, as well as a dime-a-dozen romance books that are flooding the markets these days, all make a big hue and cry about 'One Love'. So, are they trying to convey the message that love happens only once? Or are they trying to tell those who haven't been lucky in love that it is worthless to try? Maybe. Or maybe not. Who knows?
All I know is that love does strike at the same place twice. It may be as quick as lightning or as slow as heartburn. But it does happen. Again. And again. And again.
There is no quantifiable limit to love. To love is to live. And that is one lesson that I have learnt from my heartbreak. Love happens. Even the sappiest of romantic comedy will tell you so. And yes, you better believe it. Because love sells. And they sure know how to sell it well.
There may or may not be anything that goes by the name 'One Love' or 'True Love', but 'Love' sure does exist. In various forms and in abundance. Falling in love is the most basic human instinct. Yes, baser than hating. Baser than survival. Baser than hunger. Baser than thirst. Lovers have sacrificed one and all of the above for this elusive quality called 'Love'.
The worst thing that we as humans can do is to shield ourselves from the soothing balm of love. Indeed, love is not easy. And loving is even more complex. How much of yourself can you surrender? How much can you accept in return? The questions are endless. And of no avail.
Who knows what love is? Who can define it? It may be the sparkle in your baby's eyes when he looks at you for the first time. It may be the trust that your child reposes in you when she takes that first hesitant step. It may be in the warmth of your fiance's hand when he holds it while reciting his vows. It may be in the gleam of naughtiness in your lover's eyes when he chases you into the bedroom.
Love has many manifestations. It has many forms but no shape. It has a presence but no voice. Who speaks for love? Do you? Does anyone?
I am in love. Not with someone. Or something. But with everything. With love. Isn't that love as well?