On Loving Silently

Pakistanis, I believe, hold doctorates in loving silently.

There is the maid you had who would report you to your parents lest you strayed too far but who would also make you fries behind their back. The choukidaar you had who would always bring you candy. It didn't cost much, of course, but it was worth everything. There is that neighbor who you have known since you were little, the one who has given you rides to school many a times and let their home be a haven when you needed to escape yours.

Then you move on to grander expressions of love. You think of the PE teacher you had who made your life miserable but only because she believed in your potential. The first boy you had a crush on, when you had recently discovered what those wobbly knees meant. Letters and notes passed with the best friend, sly glances, asking for ink for your fountain pen knowing fully well he didn't carry an ink pot and you always had one. The innocent fluttering of butterflies that have just left their cocoons. 

And then there is love so profound it becomes your lungs. You know it's there but you rarely pause to think of it because if you started thinking about it, there wouldn't be much else left to think about. The friends you made when you were little, loyalty so fierce that it still knocks the wind out of you. You know, in your heart, that if you call up those friends now, fifteen years later, you could ask for their left hand and they would be willing to give. I have rarely seen the loyalty Pakistanis feel towards friendship elsewhere. (Believe me, I have looked.) And then you think of your immediate family. You brothers and sisters and cousins and uncles and aunts and your parents. It is an ocean. Immeasurable depth, wild waves, stormy nights, stormier mornings, serenity at 2 pm on a hot day. My God, and the life of it. So much to it that it drives you insane. 

No, no one does love like Pakistanis do. It is silent, in all it's glory. Take your poetic confessions and give me silence worth all our thoughts. Yes, that is love.