Love, in all its quiet forms

 Love, In All Its Quiet Forms

by Nidhi Guglani 

What is love? I often find myself wondering.

It took me years to understand that the truest form of love is often the most silent. The kind that doesn’t shout or show, but just stays.

I think of my mother—her strength ,her resilience, her strictness and her endless giving. I didn’t fully understand her love until I became a mother myself. It is in everything she does ,every little way she takes care of the family . And my father—so calm, so composed, polite ,never needing to say much. But we always know his love is there, like the ground beneath our feet.

Then, my brother. He was my companion through childhood, my friend, my anchor. After marriage, life pulled us in different directions. But love doesn’t need daily proof. It just lives inside you, quietly, through the years.

And then came my own little family.

My husband—my partner through everything. We’ve seen each other grow up, raise children, stumble and get back up. We’ve built a life together, with love tucked into corners, sometimes visible, sometimes not. He annoys me. He scolds me. But he cares. That’s his way. And I’ve learned to see love in that, too.

Our two boys, so different in how they express love. One of them demands it—loud, constant, always needing me, always pulling at me. The other holds it all in. He watches me, understands when I’m hurting, and carries my pain like it’s his own. One shows love by saying it. The other by feeling it. But both are full of love, and I feel it in every moment I spend with them.

Then there’s the love I’ve found in my classroom.

My students, even after they leave, come back—sharing their lives, their triumphs, their heartbreaks. They trust me with their stories. That’s a kind of love, too. A bond that grows quietly, over time, in shared learning and listening.

Friendships have carried me through so much. My college friends, my oldest companions—we still laugh over old jokes, pick up right where we left off. And the girls around me—so many of them feel like daughters, like sisters I never had. I never felt the absence of a sister because life gave me so many. Each of these bonds, different in form but intense in feeling, adds so much color to my life.

And somewhere in between all this, I’ve learned that love also means admiration. Quiet admiration.

There was a time I found myself drawn to someone’s presence—his eloquence, his clarity of thought. He noticed me too. We connected briefly, with mutual respect and a quiet fondness. It wasn’t love in the romantic sense. It was admiration. And sometimes, that’s enough. We all admire people—we’re moved by their minds, their energy, the way they carry themselves. But we often keep it locked inside, thinking it’s inappropriate to feel or express such things once we’re married. Especially when we’ve been taught that love must only go one way.

But I believe otherwise. I believe in trust. I believe in knowing that your partner might admire someone, and still be entirely yours. That admiration doesn’t mean disloyalty. It means being human.

Marriage is not about control or constant reassurance. It’s about trust. About space. About knowing that despite all the little distractions and attractions the world offers, we are home to each other. We’ve chosen each other. Again and again.

Sometimes, love in marriage is quiet. It’s not the grand romantic gestures, but the shared routines, the parenting struggles, the teamwork. The comfort of familiar silence. And that, too, is love.

I didn’t plan to write this. I was just sitting with my family this evening, like we usually do—talking, laughing, being together. And it struck me: this is love. The time we give to one another. The way we listen. The way we care, even when we’re tired. That is love, in its truest form.

We all have families. We all have relationships. But sometimes we forget to notice the love that holds them together. We need to nurture it. We need to pause, look around, take some love, give some back. Only then do we live a life that feels full. A life that feels meaningful.

From my thought balcony…

watching life, love, and everything in between.

“Love doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it just sits quietly beside you, in a shared silence, asking for nothing—and offering everything.”