More than one way to love
By Alyssa Malyon
Krishan Kundu pulled a crumpled cloth handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed the corners of his eyes as he stood in the parking lot outside of the Koel Tourist Resort in Kaithal. I felt a tear roll down my cheek and wiped it with the red shawl Krishan had gifted our team earlier that night.
Glancing at my teammates Sarah, Mild and Madi, I saw their faces: wide smiles and squinted eyes welling with tears. We stood in a circle around Krishan, expressing our gratitude for the moments we shared, yet feeling unprepared for this to be the last one.
It was our last night in Haryana — time to say goodbye to Krishan, or “the Milk Man,” as we called him — who welcomed four American girls into his home to document his life less than two weeks prior. My team’s relationship with Krishan and his wife, son and niece was founded on admiration of our likenesses and differences. And although we didn’t speak the same language, we quickly formed indelible bonds that will remain safely tucked in the crevices of my heart.
“My soul sisters,” Krishan said to us in Hindi, “I wish you all the happiness in the world. And I wish that you, my sisters, never face sadness. And if God were to give you sadness, I wish that he would give it to me first.”
Our India partner, Hersh, translated Krishan’s parting words and added, “It sounded even more poetic in Hindi.”
I believe it. But those words still struck deeply in English.
Here stood Krishan, a man who wakes before the sun rises every day to milk his buffalo and doesn’t rest until the late hours of the evening after his lengthy milk collection and distribution route is complete. No days off, because “the community needs their milk,” he said.
Even with the awareness of my privilege, Krishan still hoped God would spare me sadness and give it to him instead.
I wish the English language had more than one word for “love.” In English, the same four-letter word is used to describe platonic, familial and romantic affection. Because of the significant weight of this one word, people hold back from saying it out of fear it may be misinterpreted.
In that moment, I wanted to tell Krishan I loved him in an “I appreciate you and I’m thankful I met you” type of way. I wanted to tell every member of my team that I loved them. And I wanted to tell my professors and India partners that I loved them.
But I held back because I lacked the proper words to express my feelings.
I learned that many forms of the word “love” are used throughout India, as there are more than 1,500 languages spoken. In Hindi, “pyaar,” “prem” and “mohabbat” all mean love but with different connotations.
If there were some magical time-warping instrument that could bring me back to the Koel Tourist Resort, I would use it to say, “Tum sab meri jaan ho.”
“You all mean the world to me.”
But of course, it sounds more poetic in Hindi.
Photo by Madi Kremer