How Many “Great Loves” do we get in a lifetime?

Love has officially become the most overused word in human history. We’re practically “in love” with everyone and everything. With every breath we take, we chant it like a spiritual mantra, Oh I love this, oh I love him, oh I love it. Love… love… love. At this point, even the word is tired of us.

There was a time, when Shakespeare made people weak in their knees. When love letters were written on actual paper, not typed at 2 AM with auto-correct ruining the passion. Back in the 18th century, love was a full-on Bollywood epic. Men dropped to their knees, women glowed pink like morning skies, and confessions unfolded like pages from a fairytale. And now? 

Now romance is basically vintage. We want love, but we want it Amazon Prime, delivered fast, returns accepted, no emotional packaging required.

The second something feels slightly complicated or-God forbid-boring, we tap out like we’re in a wrestling match. “Not working? Okay bye.” The exit door is the only place we don’t mind standing in line.

We’re so consumed by work, family, social drama, and the never-ending pursuit of the perfect filtered life, that only a rare, endangered species of humans still knows how to cuddle… or “canoe”… or whatever adorable slow-love behavior people used to do before we all became emotionally WiFi-dependent.

Last evening, I was munching on a packet of Uncle Chips with my best friend, both of us fighting for the duvet, watching some totally random show play while we snacked. Somewhere between a spicy chip and a totally confused plot twist, my heart decided to get a little soft and silly.

So I turned to her and asked, in my most serious, late-night-inner-poet voice:

“How many great loves do we get in a lifetime?”

She kept munching. Louder. Crunchier. I thought she didn’t hear me, so I asked again,gently, sweetly, like a friend who had accidentally wandered into a deep conversation nobody asked for.

This time, she froze mid-bite, shot me a look that made me go “oops,” dusted her hands on the duvet like she was preparing for something serious, and sat up straight. I braced myself for some goofy, nonsense reply.

But no no. Out of nowhere she turned into a soft, romantic philosopher with surprising emotional depth.

She said, “Maybe one, if life is kind to you. Maybe two, if God is feeling generous. But the rest? They’re just visitors who walk into our lives through those revolving doors… and leave before we even learn the little things about them. Sometimes they walk out on their own. Sometimes… we gently send them back, so the next person can find their way in.”

Then, just as dramatically as she’d started, she reached back into the chips, fished out the perfect one, and went straight back to WhatsApping her current flavor of the week. 

The reply hit me like gravity had shifted, as if the world tilted and threw me completely off my axis.That’s what we’re all searching for, aren’t we? That love so fierce, so unshakable, it lives in our bones and refuses to let go. The kind of love where someone would move heaven and earth for us and we would throw ourselves into the same fire for them, in an instant, without a second thought.

The love that chooses us back, even on the dullest of nights. The love that makes ordinary moments, red roses on a random Tuesday, late-night shows, endless coffee and wine, feel like magic. The love that survives the endless bickering, the fights, the small annoyances, and still, again and again, we would pick them, in every lifetime, without hesitation.

That is the great love we chase. And as my friend said, "If life is kind enough to bring us to our other half, all we need to do is lock the revolving doors of the world outside and spin together. through the good and the bad, through health and sickness, through life and death, forever together, heart and soul, never letting go.