I knew it had come; one of those days when the ever cheeky bachelors turn morose, one of those days when even the colour of sky changes. Even as you wake up, you wonder why your stomach feels a kind of queasy, why your sixth sense (that is usually dead and buried) forces itself upon you with a sense of foreboding. And as you open your window, hey why is the usually blue sky pink? And then it hits you (as they say, Zor ka jatka, Dhere se laga) leaving you breathless and disoriented.
Although the hit is not new (after all its an annual event), the pain is no less you actually wonder when would you get used to it? I still remember the last occasion when I was affected this way. Date: Feb 14 (of course the date doesnt change) rather the night previous to Feb 14. The card stores and all the Landmarks and Odysseys of the town were bursting at their seams. Can you imagine the consternation of a lone man when, to satiate the grumblings of his stomach , he approaches a chocolate counter only to be told that all the chocolates are exhausted (After all of what importance is the trite and hackneyed sensation as hunger in the beautiful season of love.)
How is it, I wondered, that while everyone has sweet nothings to mutter, I have nothing sweet to mutter. And as I walked past a couple on the waterfront looking so deeply into teach others eyes that they looked lost, I was sure that their dazed look reflected in my face, albeit without the joy that they seemed to be deriving of it. The beaches and parks were so full that you would wonder if the birds, like unfortunate lone men, make alternative arrangements for the day.
But all is not lost, I told myself, for in such desperate situations, there is always the idiot box that drums up stuff. Burrowing deep into my room, I turned on the TV, determined to shut the happy world out. But, oh misery, Cupid, it seems, doesnt spare anyone. Heaven alone knows how all the weirdoes at TV stations got the same idea and the channels were but the reflections of the street outside and worse, for I was not safe even in my sanctuary. Its ok to have a sumptuous feast, but to have it in front of a starving man, to force him to watch even when he refuses, well there ought to be legislations against such extreme torture.
So here I am, on the eve of the very same day, and I have made my plans. My bags are packed and my tickets booked. I am off to a secret destination (I will not reveal the destination in case Mr Cupid is reading) with plans that no man (read woman) or machine can ruin. Still, I am not as confident as I sound. Look out in this space the same time next year and hopefully, I wont have complaints. However, dont be surprised if I have, you can never be sure in this month of February.
