What Love Is

What Love Is

Gifting during occasions is a part of the Indian tradition. Women are pretty good at it, I always had difficulty in deciding what to gift, anyone for that matter- even my own. So I picked the brains of a close friend – a woman of course, to decipher how she always came up with the perfect gift for every occasion. What she told me really made sense, wonder why I never thought of it. She said it is very simple, “All you gotta do is know the person, put yourself in their shoes.” 

Knowing the recipient is imperative, otherwise stick to flowers or a gift cheque. My credo of gifting is, what I perceive useful universally or worthy or valuable. So here is the solution to all male-folks who find difficulty in gifting their friends during any occasion. Take a good look at them – more than what the eye can see, for example, someone who attends college or goes to office – you could gift them a good bag, could be leather or a branded. 

I remember my  mom gifting my aunt a torch, very thoughtful cause my aunt wakes up early & could not get her bearings right. But then my predicament comes back when you think about well to do folks, they own the best of everything so anything (expensive or mundane) would not suffice.

I was part of a Christian Youth Mission & we made it a point to visit Orphanages, Old Age Homes, Destitute Centers, etc., On one such visit to an Old Age Home I met a very old lady (Ms.Irene), in her late eighties or early nineties. She had been in the Old Age Home for a decade odd years. 

The Office staff had told us that she came from a well do family & had a few children. Most of them were either abroad & a couple of daughters who lived in India, but Irene was not keen to stay with her daughters as she did not consider it right. And since most of are busy with children, life & family chores, taking care of the old parents is relegated to the professionals. Due to my work schedule, I had to part ways with the Christian Youth group. 

But as the said Old Age Home was near to my home, I visited it on a regular basis & spent time with Irene. She was always in a good mood even though she was not too mobile & had to depend on others for most chores. She was confined to the Old Age Home. Her relatives, her daughters & their family members visited her once in awhile, her son ones in a year like a pilgrimage trooped in with his family & bringing goodies in tow.

It was at this point of time I got thinking 'what is love' – as one aspect & the other - what invaluable gift can you give anybody. When you are invited to a birthday party or when you go for a wedding, what do you gift? Or when you go to a relative’s house or meet a friend after a long hiatus, what is the apt gift for the occasion, something that would be valued by the receiver. 

As I made my regular visits to the Old Age Home I made it a point to carry some sweet-meats. Or on certain occasions if I could beat up something at home, I made it a point to carry it to them & found the folks more receptive to stuff from home/homemade eats. 

Irene would most probably be on bed eyeing the door, I could almost feel her waiting to meet up with me on Saturdays when I usually made it to the Home by 11 AM. I would have my packages in hand, she would lay a customary glance on it, I would unpack before her eager eye & she would gingerly take a bite of it, there would be a twinkle in her eye as it titillates her palate. 

Then she would offer me a piece, she loved to share stuff. 

She would place the other half nearby – she knew how to savor what she ate. We would talk on a myriad of topics - the outside world, the latest happenings in the city, in the county, her long lost friends. Then it would be about my home, my folks, their kids. Then Irene would open up to share the secrets of the Old Age Home, the inmates, who visited whom. 

The presents received, daily squabbles with the staff, if there was a death. She would talk about her past, about days spent at her home, her relatives, children, family, kids. At this point of time realization hit me - the precious most thing you could give anyone. What is that could be valued by these folks. Then I realized the irrefutable most precious gift to give anybody is your time. 

Ones given, history records it- there is no denying it- never forgotten. Anything else you give, gets washed away or is lost or disfigured with time. Only your time stands the test of that greatest adversary.

After several months, I could literally see Irene become weaker. She had lost the will to live, there seemed to be no meaning, but a wait for the inevitable- I think we ourselves are our greatest enemy. 

One day the warden called me asking me to take time to meet Irene, the day I reached there I found some of her folks there too. When she saw me there was a hint of smile on her lips, I walked up to her & held her hand. I felt a very gentle squeeze. 

I felt richer than the rich then. I know when I leave this abode we never take anything with us, but yet I think there are some things which i would be able to take.