What is Love?

Love is something that cannot be fully expressed in words. It cannot be measured or confined to any scale. It’s like a newborn baby, pure and innocent, unaware of the world, with no expectations, no thoughts in its tiny mind, no worries, no greed, no anger, and no fear. If there’s one person who unconditionally loves this baby the most, it’s the mother! She carries the child in her womb for nine months and endures unbearable pain to bring it into the world, and yet, her love is selfless and one-sided. Parents, especially mothers and fathers, love their children selflessly, making it a pure form of one-sided love. As the child grows, they gradually begin to love back – first their parents, then extended family, but this is different from the love I am about to describe because it stems from blood relations.

But what exactly is one-sided love? Have you ever experienced it? I have.

I don’t know if I can express it in words, but I’ll try to convey it through my story.

A child’s life path often depends on the kind of family they are born into—be it wealthy, middle-class, or poor. One-sided love doesn’t require any specific conditions; it can’t be bought with money. I was born into a very poor family, not just financially but also lacking in love and nurturing, except for my mother. She was the only one I felt truly cared for me. I grew up in a household with no grandparents, uncles, or aunts; it was just me, my parents, my younger siblings, and a few neighbors. It was an environment devoid of values or guidance.

At the age of six, I started first grade. I hadn’t gone to nursery or kindergarten, but luckily, I had hardworking and kind teachers who helped me overcome my speech impediment. Gradually, I began to enjoy school, and being around classmates made me happy. I even wished the school would stay open 24/7. Until I turned ten, concepts like love, affection, or attachment didn’t exist in my world.

At age eleven, in fifth grade, I started feeling drawn to someone for the first time. Ours was a small village school with classes only up to seventh grade. Students from nearby villages came to study here, and that year, a few new students joined us, including a girl from a middle-class family. She was simple, cheerful, and intelligent. Initially, I was a loner, not participating in games or competitions, but her presence encouraged me to become more active. She excelled in studies and sports, and I aspired to improve myself by following her example. I began participating in activities and found joy in learning.

The school had a library, and she was in charge of it that year. Every day, she would scold me for not returning books on time, her eyes stern but endearing. One day, while sharing tamarind fruits with friends under a tree, she surprised us by snatching them away, playfully asserting her authority. These small interactions left a lasting impact on me.

For three years, we were in the same class. My friends teased me about her, having caught me stealing glances at her. Yet, I never felt like I was in love; I just enjoyed her presence. On days she didn’t come to school, everything felt dull. I would arrive early just to catch a glimpse of her arriving on her bicycle. Her participation in events motivated me to do the same.

After seventh grade, we went to different schools. Life moved on, but I missed her deeply. When I learned that she had joined a school close to mine, I couldn’t resist transferring to that school the following year. By now, I was more aware of my feelings. I wrote down everything I felt about her in a letter and slipped it into her bag, but she neither responded nor scolded me. However, her friends read the letter, and after that, I felt nervous around her.

One day, our school announced a trip, costing ₹2,000 per student. Knowing my family couldn’t afford it, I hesitated but eventually managed to save enough. On the trip, we grew closer, sharing meals and moments that made me feel she might have feelings for me too. But soon, school ended, and with it, those precious days.

She got married to a government teacher, and I moved on with life, though the memories stayed. Even ten years later, when I close my eyes, I can vividly recall her smile. Despite new friendships and opportunities, no one has ever made my heart feel the same way.

Today, I work hard, hoping to achieve something significant in life. If I succeed, I want to meet her once, not to rekindle anything but to thank her for being the first to awaken such emotions in me. I pray for her happiness and cherish the memories of a love that, though one-sided, defined my youth.

Note: This is my personal story. Thank you for taking the time to read it!

.   .   .