Periscope 4 Quiet Kind of Love

Dear reader, I want to talk about love! I want to write about love that gives and expects nothing in return, love that does not recriminate, and love that fills us up and leaves no room for regrets. I want to celebrate love that is unconditional, toast love that shelters and nurtures. I want to enshrine love that holds us up, picks us up when we fall, digs us out of the ditch with its bare hands, unmindful of the dirt clogging its nails and sweat poring into its eyes. I want to shout out from the rooftops about the love that is sacred, embrace love that illuminates, breath in the kind of love that is quiet, unspoken, and shows itself when we need it to succor us, to rescue us. No, I do not want to talk about the Bollywood filmy love, the Hollywood never ending love, nor the Dhaliwood wet sari, dancing in the rain love. Neither do I want to write about romantic love, already sanctified in our poems and songs, in our movies and novels; rightfully glorified for its passion, fluorescence, magic, and sometimes mourned for being too fleeting, too in need of rejuvenation and too shy in the company of day to day life and living, and too wary of lifes pitfalls and crisiss. Dont get me wrong, dear reader, I am a fool for romance, a jitterbug merrily drunk on its nectar, having fallen head over heels for my wife 20 years ago and still breathless at the thought of her. But, dear reader, it is the quiet kind of love, the familial love built on unconditional commitment and loyalty, that has brought my wife and I through 20 years of growing up together, helped us navigate the sometimes treacherous straits of going to college together, graduating, working, paying for and working through graduate and law schools, paying bills, raising a child, enjoying the lulls and holding on to each other through the lashing waves. Our lives are testament to this quiet kind of love. Having lived away from my family since the age of 16 and coming back to Bangladesh to live with my mother while on the threshold of 40, I have been given an opportunity to see and appreciate this familial love with fresh eyes and new perspective in my daily interactions with my family and friends. From my mothers insistence at taking out the Hilsa bones during dinner (and her SMS messages to me throughout the dayyes, I am very proud of my 69 year old moms tech savviness), to my sisters regular e-mails and calls from Canada checking on and reminding us of various things that need to be done to care of our family, to my brothers understated support to us in all the things we do, I am the beneficiary of this love. This love was always there, ever present and ready to fly across the oceans to step in when needed; the love hasnt changed, its the

perspective that shifted. What seemed sometimes annoying, mostly cloying, and always intrusive 25 years ago, I can now appreciate and feel grateful for due to this perspective shift. It is the same love that we try to wrap around our children, and the same love that they will rebel against in their teen years and hopefully celebrate as they grow older. This quiet love has been on my mind for a few months. I thought of this love a few weeks back while grieving for my friends father, and have continued to think of it since then as I have been with and watched my friend and his family at once let go and hold back. Uncle was a man generous with his hugs and his time, always gracious with his kind words and loving actions. He was a jaan, and throughout the weeks since his passing, all those who have loved him have shared stories of how he had been their pillar of strength, spoke about the countless situations where he had helped them, reminisced about how he was their safety net in case they fell and how he shielded them when they were most vulnerable. Uncles quiet love infused every nook and cranny of his familys life, and his absence has left million holes in the fabric of their lives that almost every conversation, every situation, brings up a shadow in my friends face as he remembers and misses that love. I grieve for Uncle and his family, but find solace in the thought that my friend has inherited his late fathers capacity for such love, so that Uncles memory will continue to live on in my friends actions to help others. We, who are at once sons and daughters of aging parents and fathers and mothers of young children, are recipients and givers of this love. We are continuously blessed by this love. Dear reader, let us celebrate this love and our blessings by showing our appreciation and gratitude to those who have warmed our lives with their unconditional love.