Love. Never said. But always there!

Brown parents are weird.

Growing up in a desi-brown household, love wasn’t something that was ever said directly. My parents wouldn’t tell me that “they loved me”, instead they would use actions. Most of the time those actions of love came in form of beating by flying slippers and hangers. And at other times love was shown through providing for my needs, even if it meant working two jobs. Two jobs so that their son could attend his fair share of tutorials like the other kids and two jobs so that their son could have his fair share of fun at the football training. Love was always there but never said. Love was shown by giving her son fruits at 1 am while he studied for an exam he had the next morning and love was also shown by scolding his son to wear more clothes on a hot day just because he thinks it’s cold.

Having grown up with this style of parenting, I realise why it’s so hard for me to tell someone I love them, whether it’s a friend, teacher, or someone whom I have feelings for. For some reason it just feels weird and so instead of saying it, I try my best to allow my actions to speak for me. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t send anyone flying slippers and hangers, nor can I give someone fruits at 1 am while they study. But what I can do is quietly be nice to those I care for, trying my best to help them in whatever possible way I can. Even if it means sacrificing something of mine. It isn’t always that positive though. Sometimes love can be frustrating and you end up saying mean things that you go on to regret later. But no matter what, love is always there.

Never said. But there.