My mother married my father
because they were in love.


She did this
In a world that frowned upon
marriages from inter caste because
it was believed that
one sect of religion was better than the other.
In that world,
she married from another religion
despite every family member’s No,
despite every obstruction.


Her love is brave.


While growing up,
I saw her love this man
with all her heart.
She gave up everything
for her trust in love,
in his love.


Her love is soft
and hopeful.


She got gentler
more adjusting
in a house that was different
from the one she grew up in,
the one she had forsaken.


Her love is giving.


I was born through my mother’s love.
I was brought up with that type of love.
The all sacrificing, brave, gentle kind of love.


But darling,
My love is hesitant.


Because I know,
Love is not made of one person loving too much.
My mother’s love was this beautiful because my father met her halfway.


My father’s love is strong.
His love gives.
His love braves storms.
His love is fearless.
He took all the love she gave
And knew how to return it back
without expectations
with more of him
and with love
that defies reason.


My love is brave too.
My love may not be loud
but it echoes

with your name.


This is the legacy
I grew up with.
How can you look at me
and expect any less?


So, meet me halfway.


Meet me halfway
in between this madness and reason
where love made a home
from broken traditions
and young, hopeful love.



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