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By:

Asha Tripathi

14 April 2025 at 1:35:28 pm

Love Isn't Toxic; People Are

Love has never been the problem. Human behaviour has. People often say, ‘Love isn't what it used to be.' We hear stories of betrayal, manipulation, ghosting, emotional abuse, and broken promises. It can seem as though love itself has become toxic. But has love really changed, or is it the way people approach relationships that has changed? The truth is that love has never been the problem. Human behaviour has. True love is not constant excitement, grand gestures, or perfect romance. It is a...

Love Isn't Toxic; People Are

Love has never been the problem. Human behaviour has. People often say, ‘Love isn't what it used to be.' We hear stories of betrayal, manipulation, ghosting, emotional abuse, and broken promises. It can seem as though love itself has become toxic. But has love really changed, or is it the way people approach relationships that has changed? The truth is that love has never been the problem. Human behaviour has. True love is not constant excitement, grand gestures, or perfect romance. It is a choice to treat another person with dignity, kindness, and honesty. True love is built on mutual respect, trust and emotional security. It involves respecting each other's feelings, boundaries and individuality, caring for one another through both joyful and difficult times, and building trust through consistent actions rather than empty promises. It is marked by honest communication instead of manipulation or mind games; accepting each other's imperfections while encouraging personal growth; and creating a relationship in which both partners feel safe to express themselves without fear of judgement or rejection. Love is not about controlling someone. It is about helping each other feel valued and secure. Toxic Love Relationships become toxic when fear, insecurity, selfishness or a desire for control replace mutual respect and care. One common cause is unresolved emotional wounds. People who have experienced betrayal, neglect or unhealthy relationships may carry those experiences into new relationships, making them suspicious, controlling or emotionally distant. Unrealistic expectations can also create problems. Films and social media often portray love as a constant state of excitement, whereas real relationships involve routine, disagreements, responsibilities and compromise. When expectations do not match reality, disappointment often follows. Poor communication is another major factor. Instead of discussing problems openly, some people avoid difficult conversations, withdraw emotionally, criticise or manipulate their partners, allowing misunderstandings to deepen. Experts also point to the role of ego. When individuals become more concerned with proving themselves right than understanding their partner's perspective, conflicts become harder to resolve and empathy gives way to confrontation. Fear of abandonment can fuel unhealthy behaviour. Anxiety about losing a partner may manifest as jealousy, possessiveness, constant monitoring or emotional dependence, behaviours that often place further strain on the relationship. A lack of accountability can also damage relationships. Healthy partners acknowledge their mistakes and work to improve, while toxic relationships are often characterised by blame, excuses and an unwillingness to take responsibility. Technology has also changed relationship dynamics. While instant messaging, social media and dating apps have made communication easier, they have also increased opportunities for comparison, insecurity and the pursuit of constant validation, creating new pressures for many couples. True Love Despite growing cynicism about modern relationships, true love still exists. It may seem rare because it requires qualities that are not always easy to practise, including patience, maturity, honesty, consistency and emotional responsibility. True love is not found in perfect people. Rather, it is created by two imperfect individuals who consistently choose respect over control, honesty over deception, and understanding over ego. Healthy Love Healthy love brings more peace than confusion. It does not mean there will never be disagreements. Instead, both partners work through them without humiliating or harming each other. In a healthy relationship, both partners feel respected rather than controlled and heard rather than dismissed. Trust is built through consistent actions rather than promises alone, creating a sense of security and reliability. Healthy relationships also allow individuals to express themselves freely without fear of judgement while encouraging both partners to grow as individuals even as they strengthen their relationship together. Love itself has never become toxic. Fear, insecurity, dishonesty, and emotional immaturity make relationships toxic. True love is not measured by how intensely someone says, "I love you." It is measured by how consistently they show respect, care, honesty, and responsibility. At its best, love is not about possessing another person. It is about creating a space where two people feel safe, appreciated, and free to become the best versions of themselves. When respect disappears, love begins to fade. But when respect, trust and kindness remain, love has the chance to endure. In the end, love is measured not by grand declarations but by everyday acts of honesty, care and commitment. (The writer is an educator based in Thane. Views personal.)

The Soul of Bharat on the Big Screen

Mumbai: April 4, 2025, my heart feels heavier than it ever has. The news hit me like a monsoon storm—Manoj Kumar, the towering legend of Bollywood, the man who painted patriotism across our screens, is no more. At 87, he slipped away at Mumbai’s Kokilaben Dhirubhai Ambani Hospital, leaving behind a reel of memories that flicker in my mind like a projector that won’t stop spinning. As a movie fan who grew up with his films, I’m not just mourning an actor—I’m grieving the loss of a piece of my soul, a piece of India itself. They called him "Bharat Kumar," and oh, how he earned that name.


I remember the first time I saw ‘Upkar’ (1967). I was a kid, sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to our old TV. Manoj ji played Bharat, the farmer who gave everything—his dreams, his love—for his country’s soil. That song, “Mere Desh Ki Dharti,” wasn’t just a tune; it was a heartbeat, pulsing with pride and sacrifice. I’d hum it walking to school, feeling like I, too, could be that noble, that selfless. He won a National Film Award for that one, and rightly so—it wasn’t acting; it was living.

Then there was ‘Shaheed’ (1965), where he brought Bhagat Singh back to life. I’d sit there, popcorn forgotten, as he roared defiance against the British, his eyes blazing with a fire that could’ve lit up the darkest colonial night. It wasn’t just a film—it was a revolution on celluloid, a call to remember the blood that bought our freedom. Manoj ji didn’t just play the martyr; he became him, and every time I watch it, I feel that lump in my throat, that sting in my eyes. It’s no wonder it snagged three National Awards—his passion was a gift to us all.


Oh, and ‘Purab Aur Paschim’ (1970)—how do I even begin? He directed and starred as Bharat again, this time wrestling with the clash of East and West, showing us the beauty of our roots while the world tried to pull us away. I’d laugh at Saira Banu’s antics, then choke up when Manoj ji stood tall, singing “Hai Preet Jahan Ki Reet Sada.” It was a blockbuster, sure, but it was more—it was a love letter to India, penned in his signature hand-over-face style. That move, mocked by some, was his shield, his quiet strength, and I adored it.

And who could forget ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan’ (1974)? He directed and starred as Bharat—again, because who else could?—tackling poverty, injustice, and the gut-wrenching struggle for the basics of life. I’d watch, fists clenched, as he fought for the everyman, his voice cracking with raw emotion. It wasn’t just a movie; it was a mirror to our society, a cry for change. Seven Filmfare Awards across his career, they say, but this one felt like it carried them all—his heart bled through every frame.


Then there’s ‘Kranti’ (1981), the epic that had me on the edge of my seat. Manoj ji as the freedom fighter, leading Dilip Kumar and Hema Malini through a storm of rebellion—it was grand, it was gritty, it was everything Bollywood could be. “Zindagi Ki Na Toote Ladi” still echoes in my ears, a reminder of the battles he fought on screen, battles that felt so real I’d dream of joining the fight. He didn’t just direct that film; he sculpted a monument to resilience, and I’d cheer like a fool every time he outsmarted the British.


As I sit here, flipping through these memories, I can’t help but feel cheated. Manoj Kumar wasn’t just an actor or director—he was family. Born Harikrishan Goswami in 1937, he carried the Partition’s scars from Abbottabad to Delhi, turning pain into purpose. He gave us over 50 films in a career spanning four decades, snagging the Padma Shri in 1992 and the Dadasaheb Phalke Award in 2015—honors that felt too small for a man who gave India its cinematic soul. His last role in ‘Jai Hind’ (1999) might’ve flopped, but it didn’t dim his light in my eyes.


I’d read how he met Bhagat Singh’s mother before ‘Shaheed’, seeking her blessing—can you imagine the weight of that? Or how PM Lal Bahadur Shastri urged him to make ‘Upkar’ after the 1965 war, handing him “Jai Jawan Jai Kisan” like a sacred torch? That’s who he was—a man who didn’t just entertain but carried a nation’s dreams.


Manoj ji, you weren’t just “Bharat Kumar” to me—you were the uncle who taught me pride, the friend who shared my anger, the poet who sang my hopes. Your films weren’t movies; they were my childhood, my rebellion, my tears. I’ll miss you like I miss the India you dreamed of—flawed, fierce, and forever ours. Rest in peace, sir. Om Shanti.

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