So despite the best efforts of some people, Feb 14 is here and love is (or at least heart-shaped gas-filled escapee balloons are) in the air. It's on air too in Bengaluru, where romantic ditties from the Waheeda-Guru Dutt days are playing alternately with the Karan Johar mushies on radio. I am glad I am not in Pune, where there was devotional music on the radio on V-Day when I was there last, not to mention the fact that yesterday there was some horrible, horrible non-vegetarian action at my beloved German Bakery by people who have an agenda against peace.
There was a lovely lady at my second office who had left a newspaper job to work at an E-learning company as an editor. She'd been married for 20 years, and said that she spent delightful hours at home with her husband, each of them just reading their own books in silence. That's what my Valentine's evening was like. Coffee, sandwich, apple pie, E.M. Forster's the Longest Journey and my best friend and darling boy by my side. Blissful!
Two "foreigner" girls took the table to my left and immediately yelled "OH MY GOD BARNES AND NOBLE!!!!" when they saw our canvas bag. Is there a Barnes and Noble here???? It broke my heart to tell them that there wasn't any, but I directed them to Blossom, which can kick any bookshop's dog-eared ass from halfway across the globe. We discussed Forster, and out respective teachers' love for him, and they told me that after losing their English teaching jobs in the US in the recession, they were taking a year off to find Jesus and live as he had lived. I have my doubts that Jesus visited swank coffee shops in Bangalore, but hey, at least they were on Church Street!
And oh! I wore my new Valentine's Day shoes and he wore his new Valentine's day Kurta, which was such amazing progress from last year's probiotic capsules and unisex deodorant!
Dedicating this song from Silk Route's Boondein to my precioussssss on Valentine's Day:
Hum jo chaley, to tum bhi chalo saath
Phir kya khabar, ke din hai ya raat
Here's to miles and miles of walking together on the pavements of the world, as one pair of Bata shoes after another collapses under the torture. Dearest, I'm not crazy about you; I'm (lock-up-ably) crazy without you!