Love is multi-layered, convoluted and as imperfect as all human emotions: dna celebrity writer Twinkle Khanna

Tuesday, 8 April 2014 - 7:15am IST | Place: Mumbai | Agency: DNA

6.30 am: I am trying to wake up our son and he moans that he isn't feeling well and doesn't want to go to school. I yank his blanket off and then realise that he is shivering.

I need to take his temperature and after rummaging through various first-aid kits that we keep in the house, I find three thermometers. One doesn't beep even if you keep it in your mouth for 20 minutes, the second has so many buttons that you may need to get in touch with the call centre for technical help and the third one shows the temperature but only in Celsius. My capacity for mentally converting this into our good old Indian standard Fahrenheit is severely limited. Hmm... Internet to the rescue.

10 am: I finally get hold of the doctor on the phone and he says that it is probably some viral bug and prescribes a few medicines.

10.30 am: We are now tucked into my bed and the son decides he doesn't 'do' medicines and will let his body heal naturally. I can sense the influence of a certain well-built gentleman who drinks yucky vegetable juices and also doesn't 'do' medicines.

11 am: I have decided to stay home today so I can keep an eye on our son, cuddle up with him and watch horror movies. We start with The Ring.

11.03 am: The first scary bit comes on and our son screams. Movie frantically paused. My horror movie plan has been declared a big flop and the man of the house has fired me (after our self-righteous son has called him up and gleefully informed him of the above proceedings) saying I am frying our son's brains further by showing him ghosts and blood.

3 pm: I have now bought a Vicks thermometer (no, I am not their brand ambassador or any such thing). It is the fastest, most amazing device and thankfully gives the temperature in useful Fahrenheit. I love it so much that I feel like carrying it in my bag and randomly taking people's temperatures with it. Well for now, I make myself happy by just taking mine.

8 pm: The man of the house is home and is very grumpy because according to him there isn't enough food (enough food for whom? An army? Ludhiana? Thirty eight hungry boy scouts?) Punjabis are very fussy about their food. If there are only four dishes on the table then they either feel: a) Very humiliated or b) Miss their mother. I am not yet sure which one is more accurate.

1.30 am: Our son wakes up saying he is feeling very cold and can I turn the AC down. As I am fumbling in my sleep with the remote, the man of the house jumps and shouts that our son is burning up.

Temperature quickly checked with the amazing thermometer and it shows 104 degrees. I throw Calpol down his throat and the man of the house decides to sponge him with cold water. I keep insisting that he leave it to me as he has an early shoot tomorrow but he doesn't stop, tells me to go to sleep and continues the cold compress.

As my eyes are shutting I think about the word 'love'. It is multi-layered, convoluted and as imperfect as all human emotions. It is not your heart beating fast when you look at him (I even knew a girl who would throw up each time she saw her beloved) or constantly wanting to be with the other person. Love in any relationship, family or an intimate friendship, is only about putting the other person's needs ahead of your own and that my friend, is just as simple and as complex as you make it.

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