bhaskar saikia

In my last blog, I wrote about one of my favorite moments in the finale of the TV series Suits, when Donna tells Harvey:

“Love is a terrifying thing. It’s not safe. Because when you love someone, you have to face the fact that you could lose them.”
(Suits, Season 9, Episode 10)

That single line has always stayed with me. It captures the essence of vulnerability—how love forces us to risk heartbreak, how it strips away our defenses, and yet how it gives life its deepest meaning.

But what fascinates me even more is how this truth about love extends beyond relationships, beyond stories, and even beyond the boundaries of science. Take for instance Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar (2014). In one of its most powerful scenes, Amelia Brand (played by Anne Hathaway) says:

“Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can’t understand it.”

Here, love is not just emotion—it is portrayed as a force, something fundamental and enduring, perhaps even as real as gravity. This cinematic moment echoes Donna’s confession to Harvey. Both remind us that love is not “safe”—it is mysterious, uncontrollable, and at times terrifying. And yet, it may be the very key that bridges human fragility with something infinite.

That thought reminded me of a timeless reflection by Henry Van Dyke:

“Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.”

Van Dyke captures something deeply paradoxical about time—it bends differently depending on what fills our hearts. Fear stretches it, grief weighs it down, joy makes it fly. But love? Love dissolves time itself. For those who love, minutes and centuries share the same space.

Whether in a courtroom drama or in the vast expanse of outer space, these stories whisper the same truth: love is both our greatest risk and our greatest salvation.