We have developed so many languages to talk to each other but still we rarely understand others. Isn’t it ironic that even after having so many languages, we depend on universal language of human emotions when we share our feelings. Words are never enough. In fact, words, may they be of any language, could not do justice to our true feelings. We need something else to understand each other.
To understand love, we need language of love.
Why I am suddenly talking about languages and Love. Well, I do talk about love a lot actually, but it is first time for languages. There is always a first time. Lol.
We visited a friend few weeks back. They just became proud parents of the most beautiful girl, I have ever seen. She is so damn pretty, just like a doll. It is a beautiful experience to see the miracle of birth and hold a tiny living being in your hands, who is your tiny version. Well, both parents were elated to have her, but most happy were the grandparents of the little one. Taking care of the new Mom and little baby doll… looking after their every small need… fulfilling every responsibility and much more.
They came all the way from Chennai, India to help their daughter in law and son, to prepare them for the arrival of the first-born. They speak Tamil, only Tamil, no other language. Auntie however do try to speak/understand few words of English. No problem, as whole family can speak Tamil. Problem – we the visitors were illiterate in Tamil. No Tamil for us. Only Hindi or English.
Was it hard to talk to them? No not at all. They were so lively and so lovable, we didn’t felt any barrier of communication. It was more so as our friend, their son, was acting as translator between parents and us. We loved their hospitality and pure love. What surprised me was kids.
We grownups were all having dinner and kids refused to eat any food. They were fussy and just wanted to watch their cartoon. We decided to give them some time and then feed them. So we were having dinner, when suddenly I realized kids are too quiet… too much to make me uncomfortable. Looked back, and there they were quietly sitting on couch and eating food from uncle’s hands. Auntie ji was serving dosa after dosa to them, while uncle was feeding them small bites with love. All three of my kids eating silently. That was a first. More shocking for me was that they were eating food from someone who was a stranger to them few hours back. Specially Otu, who don’t even sit in the same room as any grownup; he was sitting closest to Dada and was eating from his hands. Kids called them dada and dadi, as in grandpa and grandma. Dada was smiling and feeding them. Dadi was serving them. Grand-kids were enjoying all the attention and love showered on them.
Surprisingly they have never eaten from anyone else’s hands, other than us (me and hubby); not even their own grandparents. I guess when kids see pureness of heart, they just see love… no language, no religion, no age difference, no culture, no relationship, nothing else…. Only love.
Where there is love, you don’t need any other language to understand. Love is enough. It is always enough. ❤