I usually write intense, serious, thought-provoking, society-changing, mind-blowing ideas in my articles (not really, if I’m being honest). But this time, I wanted to find some relief, softness, and even a little lightness in my writing. A few days ago, I came across a post in pale blue and pink that read:
“Somewhere, someone is searching for you in every person they meet.”
And I thought about love.
I remembered the last scene of Pride and Prejudice, where Mr Darcy calls Elizabeth “Mrs Darcy” while they sit quietly in a boat, and then Julia Roberts in Notting Hill — “Don’t forget, I’m also just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
I recalled how her lips trembled, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes welled up with emotion as she confessed her feelings with uncertainty and embarrassment.
Then came A Walk to Remember — how Jamie warned Landon not to fall in love with her if they worked together, and he smirked, “That’s not a problem,” only to fall completely in love and marry her, even after learning she had leukaemia. I remembered the final scene of Titanic and all the different theories on how Jack might have been saved — because he didn’t deserve to die, and he and Rose were supposed to grow old together. I thought about Up and how Carl took his balloon house to Paradise Falls to fulfil his promise to Ellie, even after she was gone.
And I remembered just how beautiful this feeling of love can be — how everything feels like it smells faintly of flowers, how every colour becomes a shade of pink or red, and how suddenly even my writing begins to rhyme. In love, you become unstoppable.
But what about those who aren’t Jack or Rose? Who hasn’t met someone like Jamie? Who doesn’t have a Carl who keeps his promises? Is love far from them?
Then I remembered: love is never far from anyone. Love is always around us — in fact, love is within us.
On days off, I take time getting dressed. I add a touch of colour to my cheeks, spray on a soft, elegant scent, and then stand in front of the mirror wondering which earrings match my mood. Am I feeling whimsical, or is it a Boohey Barian by Hadiqa Kiani kind of day? And when I’m feeling extra girly, I even take out my bangles.
A few months ago, I brought home some plants for the corridor. I often forget to water them, but my father never does. He calls them my plants, but we both know who really keeps them alive.
My mother doesn’t cook often now — it’s too hot in the kitchen — but sometimes, she decides the food made by others isn’t quite right, and she takes over. On such days, no one else is allowed near the stove. Her signature? Extra desi ghee and a generous amount of ginger. She steps out of the kitchen, drenched in sweat, and makes sure everyone knows she cooked tonight. And yes, there’s oil floating on top, and the ginger’s heat is overpowering — but somehow, her food really does taste better.
My older sister isn’t earning right now but somehow always seems to have money. That’s why, when I need some, I go to her. More than the money, though, I go because I know she’ll never turn me away. Even on days when she clearly has little, she finds a way — even if that means borrowing from someone else.
My cousin and best friend studies at a medical college in Lahore. Every time she returns home, she texts, “Has Faisalabad’s weather suddenly changed? Because I’ve arrived!” It’s her way of saying she wants to meet — and I look forward to our catch-ups, filled with mindless gossip and laughter. For the past five years, we’ve had our own little Eid tradition: shopping for bangles the night before to match our outfits. It’s silly, and it’s ours, and I love it.
Romantic love has its own charm. It’s unlike anything else — how it makes you want to see your beloved’s face but hides yours out of shyness. How you remember the date, the time, the colour of their clothes, even the scent they wore. But when it’s not there, it doesn’t mean all beauty is lost. Love exists in so many other forms — it surrounds us, it softens us, it makes us smile, and it gives us reasons to keep going.
So, the next time romantic love knocks on your door, you’re not starved or desperate — you’re whole. You’re soft. You’re ready to welcome it.