This is a love story

A and S have been married for just a month. When I went to their house there was a lingering fragrance of lilies that S had gotten for A for their one month anniversary. A exclaims to S, see I told you lilies have a fragrance! The two day old flowers were on the new display cabinet next to an adorable photo of theirs. I remark that they've done a fair bit of progress on the furniture front in very little time. There are a few just opened boxes and as we chat more deliveries come in, like the new extension box. The house is facing the west direction, sunlight filters in through the windows and as the day progresses the rays hit the different rooms of the house like a time lapse montage in a movie. The walls of the house are ivory, the couch is turquoise - purchased after a solid bargain A and S proudly proclaim. My friends suddenly are very knowledgeable about wood (no pun intended).

There is beautiful side table in the living room that was once upon a time a mini bar. S then says you know A's style - I ask minimalistic? And he says no she likes dilapidated kabadiwala stuff, to this A makes a face and laughs while looking at him adoringly. S remarks how she picked this thing as it was lying discarded in a corner and got it polished to its former glory. A then really excitedly shows me three wooden shelves that she's got fixed right above the dinner table, they have lots of books. From the line-up I pick up a cheesy book that says 'Reasons Why I Love You', S sheepishly says that he got it custom made for her last birthday. As I flip through the book it has a caricatures of them both with reasons like - 'You always believe in me', 'You call me everyday to know about my day', 'Your smile makes me happy'. I smile and put down the book, it is true when they say that love is in the ordinary things! If you can do your laundry and taxes, argue about the size of the labels on the masala jar with comfort and finesse, you have found the one. Hold on to them like Rose does to the raft in Titanic.

There are two big paintings from their honeymoon in Bali that are still lying unpacked, A remarks that she needs to get them framed. I decide to make chai and we take out the new cups, it is a strangely poetic moment to use cups for the first time that will soon become an everyday item in the house. I love how much thought goes into picking up new plates, cups, spoons, I want that too. To sit with someone on our bed, looking at a shared screen discussing if we want a warm white colored plate with little splotches or a brightly graded yellow one. At this point in time, I am elated at the thought. I feel so much love for my friends as they do seemingly ordinary things, they look tired but fulfilled. At the same time I sense a strong desire to do this myself - to set up a home that I call my own with someone. My heart aches with want - the kind that people have when they look at puppies, or babies.

A home from scratch, built with love, dreams and sweet arguments. Pick out the curtains, argue over grey or beige, let him have his way and concur that he was right. Fill the balcony with plants, name each of them, talk to them lovingly as I water them everyday. Maybe put in a fairy light looping through them all, faux grass mat with two little floor cushions to sit and talk, drink tea together. A low lying big table in the living room so that when friends come over we can sit around it and laugh. There will also be many Bath and Bodyworks candles lying around, specially the ones that smell like warm cinnamon, much to his dismay. A kitchen with healthy organic grains and spices - glass containers, neatly labelled by him as his scrawls are bigger than mine. A fridge with magnets from all around the world from our little travels, Turkey will the be the first one as I have a soft spot for cats and he does not mind. Sticky notes, because I'd leave you a sticky note everyday before I head for work. Love does not leak, it pours.

The bathroom needs a lot of shelves for my million gazillion cosmetics, will the obsession ever stop? The answer is no. After 10 years he'd still ask me if a scrub and mask are different and I'd just look at him and shake my head. The bed needs a thick comforter, I know his feet get cold and a bedside runner for kicks, I never had a bedside runner growing up and I always wondered what that'd be like. Instead of purchasing artwork, we'd buy a easel, canvas and plaster paint, because this is our life, our house, we have no rules, we can. I like jazz, he likes classical and between the two we like the Coke Studio. Some days at night in companion-solitude (Yes! you can have that - two people sitting quietly but together) we sit on our comfy couch and read - he likes books about tech & start-ups and I devour books on wellness. Together, we write our story.

On Sundays we go grocery shopping. I am generally up before him and use the time to get in an hour of yoga on my new cork mat, he sleeps after me at night and ensures that the almonds are soaked. We have moved to using cloth bags completely, nothing excites him more than a healthy looking lauki (no pun intended again). I like the visceral feel of picking out vegetables and fruits that will go into my body. He takes forever in the bathroom, so we have two. Everything has a solution, if you look for one. I can't drive stick, he loves to drive stick, so we have two cars and a whim to satisfy. Sunlight streams in through our window, casting everything in golden, he is ordinary but golden to me. Somedays he asks me to close my eyes, as he rotates the globe, when he asks me to open my eyes my finger stops at Hawaii and he remarks - interesting once a beach bum always a beach bum. I grow, he grows - sometimes together, sometimes apart, like the money plant tendrils but never separate. In the home we made, we safeguard each other's dreams, sleep whisper them to one another.

The walls echo with stories, his knee was injured after a match in the 6th grade, I tell him how I felt sitting on the rollercoaster the one and only time at Essel World, his pet peeve is people not washing their hands, I like the radio as it reminds me of my dad, he talks about politics, I tell him I am a closet commie. I did not want a TV in the bedroom but I have succumbed to him, on the days there's a football match I am talking to a wall with a bottle of beer, other days we play re-runs of F.R.I.E.N.D.S - they are so relatable now than before. I like to see what he finds funny, still sometimes a puzzle! To see someone you love laugh, is a wonder that life gives you many times over. Infuriatingly he also laughs in middle of arguments, but then that eventually makes me shirk off the rigidity and laugh too. We learn, we unlearn - he learnt that Comfort makes clothes smell brilliant and I unlearnt that everything needs planning to the T. Rupture is inevitable, repair is what matters. In the home we made, we lovingly repair, no broken cups were sealed by screaming and blame.

Love is in the ordinary.