I was fourteen when our class teacher told: “Love is the greatest form of respect.” She also happened to be our ‘moral science’ teacher. I smirked at it. Love for me then was a whirly concoction of heady feelings. After a good eight years, after going through a fair share of experiences, I look back to my teacher’s definition of love and relapse into a silent acceptance of it.
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Indeed, the one you can respect with the whole of your heart is the only person you can love. It just takes an awful lot of time to imbibe its meaning wholly into you. Last week I came across her profile on Facebook. She had just recovered from cancer. The thick black curly hair was cropped short and white. She smiled in the picture.
Today if I ever quote her, I find myself confronted with incredulous glances and sniggers. But I know that they too will one day know the truth. They too will someday define love as “the highest form of respect.”