My Mother’s Love Language

A few months ago, I was in a meeting with comic and poet Rajat Sood. I wanted to bring him in for an event, and we were brainstorming what kind of immersive experience we could create. That’s when he suggested his very own podcast show, Love Language. It was built around a Q&A model with guests and audience members, and it revolved around themes of love, relationships, breakups, and so on.

The event ended, but the title stayed with me—Love Language.

On another occasion, I was with one of my colleagues. While chatting over a cup of chai, she asked me, “What is your love language?”

I went blank. I had no answer to the question. (And I must tell you, I don’t like not knowing.)

“I don’t quite understand the term. Can you give a few examples?” I replied.

“When you love someone, you don’t just say it—you show it. Love is mostly about actions. And the ways in which you show your love to someone define your love language. It’s as simple as giving flowers to your loved ones, cooking for them, making a cup of tea, taking them to their favorite film or a place they love, or just being there for them all the time,” she explained.

I don’t know why—even after such a descriptive explanation—I still couldn’t grasp it. I didn’t understand what a love language truly was. What I did recall was this quote from The Dark Knight: “It’s not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.”

Until recently—when I got a WhatsApp message from my mother: “Mere phone mein balance daal dena.” 

Now, there’s a common practice in many middle-class families in second- or third-tier Indian cities: the eldest son is responsible for recharging the parents’ phones. My father calls me every month to remind me of this. But my mother never calls. She always texts. And it’s not just about a phone recharge. If it’s someone’s birthday in the family, she texts me and asks me to wish them. If there’s a festival, she messages and tells me to visit a temple.

I’ve never told her this, but she somehow knows I’m not a “call” person. I like texting. And maybe that’s a love language too—the best one of all. I now know what a love language is. But even today, I have no idea what mine is.

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