If you love someone and you don’t feel an urgency to take care of them, not dramatically, not performatively, but instinctively; then something is missing.
Either you are not truly in love, or you have already taken them for granted. Because love, at least in its living form, does not feel leisurely. It doesn’t say we’ll see. It doesn’t wait to be convenient.
Love carries a certain urgency, a quiet but persistent one, where you want to run, stretch yourself, bring the sky to the earth if that’s what it takes.
The moment love turns into ‘meh’, something subtle has shifted. Not necessarily hatred or anger , just certainty. The certainty that this person is not going anywhere. And once that certainty settles in, the rush disappears. What’s the hurry anyway? They’ll manage. They always do.
And without realising it, love starts outsourcing care to time, habit, or the other person’s resilience.
For me, love means having a very low threshold for the pain of the person you love. Their discomfort should not register as minor to you, even if it is objectively small. You should feel unsettled by it, moved by it, pulled towards it. Not because of guilt. Not because of duty. But because love rewires you that way.
Their pain enters your nervous system faster than logic does.
You want to support them. You want to ease it. You want them okay, not later, not eventually, but now. That impulse doesn’t come from obligation. It comes from attachment, from care that hasn’t gone numb yet.
And maybe that’s the real marker. Love isn’t grand gestures or lifelong promises. It’s the inability to stay indifferent. The discomfort you feel when the person you love is even slightly hurting , and the instinct to move towards them before the world teaches you that you don’t have to.
Adding some of my thoughts through this poem written by me;
अगर मेरे होने पर भी तुम्हें खुद को मुताबिक़ करना पड़े,
तो वो इश्क़ ही क्या जिसमें तुम्हें शिकायत करना पड़े।
यूँ तो मुझमें और तुममें बस एक ही फ़र्क है,
तुमने आँसुओं को अपनी मोहब्बत का हमसफ़र माना,
पर मैंने हँसी के सिवा तुम्हारे चेहरे पर
कोई और तसव्वुर ही न जाना।
लफ़्ज़ों के जाल, वादों के महल,
ये सब मैंने कभी सीखे नहीं,
झूठे ख्वाब किसी को
जान-बूझकर कभी दिखाए नहीं।
बात अगर रूठने तक ही आ रुके,
तो जेब में रखा रुमाल
महज़ नुमाइश के लिए नहीं।
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