There are two kinds of love I feel, that people find themselves in. In the first kind, they fall head over heels in love, unexpectedly and unknowingly. It’s like an accident, a precious tragedy. They gasp. Their heads spin. There’s much thrill. There’s much fun. There’s overwhelming passion. The connection is instant and insistent. It’s urgent and effortless, it’s unusually brave. There’s much stripping, emotional and physical. The rush through and overflow is pertinent. The power is heady. The insecurities are intolerant and injuring. Guts are tossed, and faith is tested. The vortex of feeling sucks the lovers in, churns them and spits out bones of contention. The fractures of self stand are exposed. There’s heat everywhere. In heart, inside head, in bath and in the bedroom. When this storm has run its course, there are pieces everywhere, scattered like rainbow. Such intensity flushes out anything superfluous, and everything garbage. It shatters delusions. It sweeps off worthless beliefs. It’s a beautiful destruction that sets the stage for fresh starts. A select few, make the start together while many others fall apart in a way that they never lose each other, never, even though they walk separate paths. In quality, its young, reckless and wild. It promises intoxicating passion, but delivers much beyond it.

The second kind of love is lukewarm. There’s no epic fall all at once. People meet and keep meeting. Nothing is obvious from start. In fact, the very start is not obvious either. It’s oblivious of beginning. It’s course is slow and steady. The furthering, however is deliberate, a curious intentional willing. They smile. They cough. There’s much careful prodding. There’s much soulful sharing. The connection is nurtured into being. It needs time to bloom. The understanding is quiet. There are hiccups but no hurricanes threatening to tear through. The expressions evolve, feelings lead the way, thoughts tango together, and flesh is felt much later. There’s respect. There’s romance. The pool of sentiments sweetens life. The love has many rooms, it entertains doubts. It’s tolerant of gaps and silence. It is a calm that fills the heart, steadies the head. It’s a beautiful revelation of self that sets the stage for further growth. Most take the step to grow together, while few realize they are not at the right place with the right person, they bid adieu with hand over heart. In quality, its ripe, deep and tranquil. It promises romantic rapture, but delivers much beyond it.

I have seen people fall in and out of this magical stupor called love. I have seen them exuding mirth and misery, in its hallowed name. Some feed on happier conclusions, while some eschew disillusionment throughout their path. The words have been spilled, now you answer what kind of love becomes you? How you walk love or what love turns you into? If you get the chance to be both the kinds, at different time points in your life, grab it. Accept it, even if it comes with the pain of an unfufilled love. You will not regert the self discovery, I assure you!

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