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Periscope 4

Periscope 4

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Published by Masud Khan Shujon

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Published by: Masud Khan Shujon on Jul 29, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Periscope 4Quiet Kind of LoveDear reader, I want to talk about love! I want to write about lovethat gives and expects nothing in return, love that does notrecriminate, and love that fills us up and leaves no room for regrets.I want to celebrate love that is unconditional, toast love thatshelters 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 barehands, unmindful of the dirt clogging its nails and sweat poring intoits eyes. I want to shout out from the rooftops about the love that issacred, embrace love that illuminates, breath in the kind of lovethat is quiet, unspoken, and shows itself when we need it to succorus, to rescue us.No, I do not want to talk about the Bollywood filmy love, theHollywood never ending love, nor the Dhaliwood wet sari, dancing inthe rain love. Neither do I want to write about romantic love,already sanctified in our poems and songs, in our movies andnovels; rightfully glorified for its passion, fluorescence, magic, andsometimes mourned for being too fleeting, too in need of rejuvenation and too shy in the company of day to day life andliving, and too wary of life’s pitfalls and crisis’s. Don’t get mewrong, dear reader, I am a fool for romance, a jitterbug merrilydrunk on its nectar, having fallen head over heels for my wife 20years ago and still breathless at the thought of her. But, dearreader, it is the quiet kind of love, the familial love built onunconditional commitment and loyalty, that has brought my wifeand I through 20 years of growing up together, helped us navigatethe sometimes treacherous straits of going to college together,graduating, working, paying for and working through graduate andlaw schools, paying bills, raising a child, enjoying the lulls andholding on to each other through the lashing waves.Our lives are testament to this quiet kind of love. Having lived awayfrom my family since the age of 16 and coming back to Bangladeshto live with my mother while on the threshold of 40, I have beengiven an opportunity to see and appreciate this familial love withfresh eyes and new perspective in my daily interactions with myfamily and friends. From my mother’s insistence at taking out theHilsa bones during dinner (and her SMS messages to me throughoutthe day—yes, I am very proud of my 69 year old mom’s techsavviness), to my sister’s regular e-mails and calls from Canadachecking on and reminding us of various things that need to bedone to care of our family, to my brother’s understated support tous in all the things we do, I am the beneficiary of this love. This lovewas always there, ever present and ready to fly across the oceansto step in when needed; the love hasn’t changed, it’s the

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