I’ve grown up listening to stories that feel like they were woven out of some grand tapestry of love. But these weren’t just fairytale stories passed down from one generation to the other– they were the experiences of the people I call family. Watching my grandparents’ enduring bond and my parents’ steady companionship, I’ve started to see love as an evolving narrative that’s as unique as it is universal. Love is the force that has defined my family, shaped my perception of relationships and led me to the person I’ve spent the last five years loving.
The most compelling chapter in this narrative has to be my grandparents’. It was in 1971, when my dadi, a young Rajasthani woman, first saw the handsome air force pilot with piercing blue eyes. At the time, she was trapped in a loveless marriage. My baba, a dashing Punjabi man, had no idea that a brief encounter in a train outbound to Bikaner would spark a love story that would defy all conventions of their time. Their romance was the kind you read about in novels– bold and scandalous. A forbidden love affair that defied all societal norms– it was so deeply genuine that it has remained etched in my family’s history for over fifty years.
Back then, love was not allowed to cross caste lines, state boundaries and certainly not existing marital vows. But my baba, being an air force man with a fighter pilot’s spirit, was not the kind to play by the rules. His daring heart beat wildly for my dadi and he often flew his fighter jet over my dadi’s house in Rajasthan, declaring his love for her from the sky above. My dadi could not resist the thrill of this unexpected affair. But in the end, it wasn’t just the thrill of the chase– but the deep comfort of being seen and understood, that made her choose him.
For my baba and dadi, love wasn’t all about grand gestures. My dadi’s marriage was a cage she wished to escape and through my baba’s love, along with the support from her own mother, she was able to break free from her unhappy marriage. In those days, divorce was almost impossible; but if there is one force in this world powerful enough to rewrite the rules– it is love. And so, for my dadi, the promise of love with my baba made it possible. They got married in secret and started a new chapter of their lives together.
It’s easy to get lost in the romance of it all, but what matters most is the mutual understanding and trust that their relationship was built on. Even today, fifty years later, when I see them sitting side by side, I am in awe of how time has only deepened their bond. My dadi’s Rajasthani grace balances my baba’s Punjabi exuberance. There is a strength in their relationship that comes from choosing each other every day, even when the world around them told them not to. Their love is the kind that inspires movies and romance novels where resilience and romance go hand in hand.
On the other hand, My parents’ love story unfolded in a completely different way. It wasn’t a whirlwind romance; it was an arranged marriage. While my grandparents’ story revealed the daring side of love, my parents’ story is a reminder that love doesn’t always need a dramatic backstory. Sometimes, it just needs a willingness to grow together. They have built their life together brick by brick and have found love in shared dreams and respect. Their marriage wasn’t about breaking barriers but about building bridges. My parents have never been afraid to voice their opinions and differences and I believe that honesty has made their bond stronger. They have created a partnership that has weathered the highs and lows with grace. They have taught me that love is also about shared dreams and mutual respect. Be it the everyday decisions to support each other, or the compromise to make things work- their love is different, it grows and evolves not through sparks, but through the steady flame of commitment.
And then there’s me- who’s idea of love and relationships is shaped by both generations in different ways. While my grandparents taught me to be brave and unapologetic in pursuing love, my parents showed me that love can bloom through time and effort and that it’s less about fireworks and more about the quiet warmth of shared companionship.
I stand at the junction of these narratives, in the process of writing my own. I’ve been with my boyfriend for almost five years now. I’m young, and my story is still unfolding, but I see how the love stories of my grandparents and parents have influenced my own understanding of what it means to be in a relationship. My boyfriend and I met when we were in the seventh grade and started dating at the end of eighth. Back then, our relationship was clumsy and sweet, full of awkward texts and stolen glances.
Just as we were beginning to explore this new dimension of our friendship turned relationship, Covid hit. Suddenly, our world shrank to the size of our phone screens. We were thrust into a long distance relationship without ever being physically apart. Those 1.5 years of video calls and text messages tested us in ways I hadn’t anticipated. We had to learn to communicate better, to trust more deeply and to navigate our own emotions, independently. What had started as a casual relationship evolved into something deeper- a commitment that wasn’t about proximity but about genuine emotional connection.
Once the world opened up again, we stepped into a reality that was more surreal than we’d imagined. Every moment together, whether it was a simple street food date or a shared tiramisu, felt like a victory over the time we’d lost. In this past year, we’ve shared experiences that cemented our bond further. From late night drives to a vacation in Goa that felt like our own little escape from the world, we’ve made new memories together- memories that remind me of the simplicity and joy of just being with each other. These moments hold value because they aren’t just about where we went but about how we felt connected and truly ourselves in each other’s presence. There’s something incredibly grounding about being able to see your partner in a different light- outside of school corridors and casual outings- and I cherish every moment we’ve shared. Over time, our relationship has blossomed beyond the superficialities of young love, like a seedling breaking through the soil, and has grown into a promise of the future. And I know it’s cliché to say that we’re made for each other, but sometimes, I think clichés are born out of truths too beautiful to be hidden away.
I know it may seem naïve to some people for me to be so certain about love at this age. People often talk about wanting to explore, to experiment and to find themselves through multiple relationships. I don’t judge that at all- it’s an experience in its own right. But I’ve found that in him, I have someone who complements me perfectly. We have grown together, from shy teenagers to young adults, our lives have intertwined like two vines climbing up the same wall. He’s seen me at my best and my worst and I’ve seen him through his highs and lows.
Often, I wonder if it’s because of my grandparents’ defiant and passionate love or my parents’ steady and nurturing bond that I’ve been able to find this relationship so early in life. Maybe it’s both. Each generation has shown me a different aspect of love- how it can be wild and unrestrained or gentle and unassuming. Love, through three generations, has shown me that it can be a force of nature and also a gentle constant. Love can change the course of your life or it can be the strength that holds you together. But most importantly, each generation has shown me that love, regardless of the form it takes, is worth holding on to.
As I reflect on these three generations of love, I realise that each one has taught me something- each lesson a distinct piece in the mosaic of what I understand and call love. My grandparents have taught me to chase after love bravely no matter the obstacles. My parents have taught me that love is about patience and perseverance. And my own relationship is teaching me that love is a journey, that is as much about who we are as individuals as it is about who we are together.
Even after hearing of and witnessing love stories spanning three generations and over half a century, I still don’t know everything about love. What I do know is that love does not have one definition and that it is an enduring promise. It binds my family’s stories together, making me believe that love, no matter how it’s expressed or where it’s found, is an eternal bond that connects us all. Love is a kaleidoscope of colours and it changes and shifts with each generation and each person. My grandparents, my parents and now my boyfriend and I–each story is a different hue but they are all part of the same beautiful spectrum of what it means to love and be loved.