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Auto-Biography Of A Hopeless Romantic

I fell in love with love.
.
Age 2.
I fell in love with the sound of cuckoos chirping in the balcony. The melodies brought me happiness, the sight of a bird taking flight brought me wondrous curiosity.
Love, I realised, was happiness.
.
Age 4.
I fell in love with my toy cars. Playing around with them all day and all night, imagining all the car races I have to win, the sound of my engine revving past the finish line.
Love, I realised, was desire and obsession.
.
Age 6.
I fell in love with the sight of planes in the sky. The way they took off from the ground, giving flight to themselves and to my dreams of growing up to be a pilot. I wanted to see more of the word and know more of the world.
Love, I realised, was burning curiosity and wonder.
.
Age 8.
I fell in love with football. Beckoning my friends from the minute I came home till the minute my mom called me because dinner was being served, and then wearing my favourite jersey and watching my dream team score goals like magic.
Love, I realised, was passion.
.
Age 10.
I fell in love with music. From going to piano classes to teaching myself to play the guitar. From singing and dancing in my shower to spending hours scouring the internet for new artists and new beats to jam out to. From beatboxing to pretending to be a pro-drummer, my lap as the drum kit and my palms as my drumsticks.
Love, I realised, was melodious.
.
Age 12.
I fell in love with a girl. Her eyes, her smile, her voice, her everything. I was infatuated? No, I was over-the-top in love, for I had fallen for a girl who I probably uttered less than 4 words to…who probably didn’t even know my first name. The paradox of it all got to me…how could someone who seemed so perfect hurt you without even realising the effect she had on you?
Love, I realised, was cruel.
.
Age 14.
I fell in love with independence. Teenager blues? Maybe, but the idea of living on my own and doing whatever I wish to…it felt perfect. Nobody to listen to, my own rules to follow. I wanted to be my own boss. I wanted to be me. 
Love, I realised, was freedom.
.
Age 16.
I fell in love with giving back. The smiles on the faces of the rural children who I spent weeks with, teaching them computer skills while I set up solar-power appliances in their electricity-stricken West Bengal village. I didn’t speak their language, but we did speak the language of love. Loving was symbiotic - it was a give and receive relationship. I gave them my time and effort, but it was I who received satisfaction.
Love, I realised, was sacrifice…and happiness.
.
Age 18.
I fell in love with growing up. I was given liberty, I was given freedom, I was made to make my own decisions. It felt scary, it felt real, it felt awesome. I began looking at things from a new set of eyes, I believed I brought my own perspective with me in my suitcase full of curiosity and wonder.
.
All those definitions of love…they never changed. Love to me still means all of those things.
And that’s when I realised:
Love was growing with me too. 
 
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