The Valentine's Hangover

It's that time of the year again. 

Singles everywhere, beware ... coz soon you're gonna be flooded by lovey-dovey Facebook statuses, pics of couples posing with a cute tag line underneath implying they are soulmates (for the month, at least), sms's about the latest Valentine's discounts on flowers and chocolates, and all your primetime movie channels will be about how you can find love in this world on this crucial day whether you are a drug addict, a psychopath, a criminal, a mutant, an alien, a vampire, a tyrannosaurus etc etc ... 

So that's the fantasy zone. Now let's get back to reality. Somehow, it seems like the only person not affected by this overdose of sweetness is your boss or principal, who has shockingly not declared a holiday today. So you get up at the same time, go to your college or office, get through the day in the same fashion as any other day, check out the prospects in the cafetaria who are unfortunately seated with prospects of their own, and then get back home the same way you do every day.

 And before you know it, it's 9 pm, and neither have you received any surprise bouquets or chocolates from a mystery admirer, nor were you bumped on the street by a random stranger who turned out to be THE ONE in just a glance, nor did anyone in your workplace hit on you (probably fearing sexual harrassment allegations) ... 

It was just - a day. Like any other day. 

So what's wrong with you? Or what's wrong with the hundreds of thousands of millions of singles out there who didn't meet the One today? And wtf do you mean by "the One" anyway? Are we talking romance here or the Matrix? 

In fact, some of us have had so many Ones that the concept of singularity just doesn't apply anymore. 

To answer the aforementioned question, I shall state my own childhood example of the time when I thought Santa Claus was not just real, but secular too, visiting kids everywhere regardless of their age, caste, religion, class, nationality. 
  It was Christmas, and everywhere I saw these posters and images of Santa visiting kids at night and giving them whatever gifts their hearts desired. I was thrilled! Hey, I was a kid, and I had been good more or less, so obviously that made me eligible for my own Santa visit too! Mom, of course, was a bit more practical in her explanations as she told me that we didn't have a concept of Santa out here. I nodded in response, but deep in my heart, I knew Santa would come. That's what all the movies and stories said. So I went to sleep with a smile and ray of hope in my heart ... and woke up with an empty hand and no gifts. 

That was the day I realized that Santa - like aliens and their UFOs - was only interested in visiting the Americans and didn't really give a damn about the rest of the world. It was heartbreaking, no doubt. But over time, I began to understand the idea that I didn't really need a Santa to feel good about myself. In fact, the idea of a portly, hairy man sneaking into my bedroom at night actually began to sound a little creepy. 

                                        "Sleep tight, little boy. Hee hee..."

This whole hullabaloo over Valentine's - it's just another Santa mirage, folks. It's nice to see it in movies and heartwarming to believe in it. But sooner or later, you gotta accept the reality. Life is different. It's sloppy, it's slow, it's unpredictable (and not always in the good way), and you don't get miracles to solve your problems most of the time. However, at the end of the day, it's real. 

Your life is a story way beyond a two-hour feature film or an e-Card greeting. There are too many layers of depth in it to be defined by the happenings of one day. So why question your self-esteem and confidence because the greeting card and chocolate companies want you to? 

I am not saying you should close yourself to the prospects of love. When it happens, it will happen, and God willing, it will be everything you dreamt of. But till then, don't let yourself get limited by this notion of "if-not-today-then-might-as-well-never". Have a beer or a chai, meet friends, watch something funny, go someplace nice to eat, or just relax at home. If you are really intent on making this day special, then make it special by doing whatever YOU like. 

  Coz at the end of the day, the only Valentine who will always be there for you is yourself :)

The Tragedy Of Being a Woman In A Mosquito's World

Here's the tragic thing about mosquitoes. The male ones are vegetarians, that is, not interested in biting humans. They feed on nectar from flowers, pretty much like bees, and pass by pretty much unnoticed by us. 

  But when it comes to their wives - it's a different ball game altogether. Coz it's the females who go buzzing about our ears and make our nights hell for us. Now before that leads to a whole misogynistic debate, let me clarify that the reason the females bite you is not because of some vampire-like streak that makes them thirst for human blood.

Nope. The reason they suck our blood is because they need the proteins in it to develop fertile eggs. So every pesky little bloodsucker that you swat between your hands is actually a hopeful mother-to-be. Twisted, right? Almost makes you reach out and switch off that All-Out you have been using.

Of course, there is the practical side to be considered. Let's face it. Mosquito bites suck. They make you itch, they can infect you with a host of sometimes-deadly diseases. So no point being a martyr and offering yourself as a fertility donor to this specie.

But then, if we shift the perspective a bit and looks at life from a lady mosquito's POV, things do look quite depressing. Think about it. You are this caring, dutiful daughter since birth, picturing the perfect wedding, the perfect mate, the perfect family ... Everything goes along fine. You meet the right guy. Your friends like him. The honeymoon was great. Life's a dream.

But then comes the reality check. It's time for you to start a family. The only catch is that you now need to risk your life and limb to go fulfill Mother Nature's sadistic rules before you can become a mother. So while your husband goes off merrily to play amidst flowers with his friends, the onus falls on you and your fellow prospective mothers now to go into the dark zone of those giant haemoglobin carriers, battling toxic vapors, repellent creams, and of course, the swat! One moment you are harboring dreams of dressing your kids off to school, the next you are nothing but a crumpled mass of limbs and torso.

 Your friends look on in horror. Some cry. Some scream. But they have no choice. So they wipe their tears, murmur a silent prayer, and continue in their march towards the war zone, all in the hope of surviving long enough to see their first-born smile at them.

It's like a SAW movie featuring pregnant women as victims. It's that sick.

Everything happens for a reason, I guess. Maybe if one were to really look for a logic in this madness, one could argue that this was Nature's way of ensuring their population control. Can you imagine a world run over by swarms of mosquitoes blocking the sun?

Still, at the end of the day, it must make for a dreary bar conversation between the perpetual, vegetarian widowers.

image courtesy: www.wordexplorations.info

  "I don't know, man. I thought she was the one. I wanted us to have kids, travel, grow old together ... Next thing I know, she lingers too long on this guy's forearm and SWAT! It's all over ..."
  "Cheer up, buddy. Plenty of mosquitoes out there. In fact, if you want, I could hook you up with this chick I know -"
  "I don't think so yaar -"
  "She's a fast flyer."
  "You have her number?"