Valentine's day brouhaha

The world celebrates love on Valentine's Day. I celebrate my birthday on this day. For some reason I’ve always loved February. There's something about the weather in Delhi with the onset of spring and new flowers, the warmth of the winter sun, sale in every shop and the general optimism in the air that perks up my mood. It's the time you cling on to the blanket and relish the last ounce of winter comfort as also brave the chill in the evenings with an open necked t-shirt. February is when the snow around the heart begins to thaw and you feel genial towards everybody. You come out of hibernation in the true sense.

Having been born on this 'lover's day' if you will, I always felt burdened by its history. I know I’m an incredible romantic but it was as if I had to prove to myself and the world that it affected me in some special way. Honestly? Did it affect me any differently? Not really. But it did make me think about love a lot. In school I was forever buried in the mushy Mills and Boons fares. Then in college I graduated to Sydney Sheldon and Harold Robbins and other best sellers which promised a rich fertile ground for imagination. From books I made the transition to films and found a vast treasure in the romantic films genre. But very soon I realised that any story required something other than romance to propel it to a higher level. Whether it be comedy, adventure, mystery or any other genre, romance could only make it more interesting. It was hard for a purely romantic film to stand alone unless it was an exceptional love story involving struggle or overcoming Herculean barriers. It was only then that I gave up my 'romance only' motto and began to tread the world of fiction with an open mind. But my partiality for love has remained.

As I widened my repertoire of books and films I learned of the vast canvass of love and romance that has been written about and that exists in life. Great novels have always portrayed love and the greatest stories have been ones where love has been a guiding force for the actions of the protagonists. So it would not be wrong to assume that love drives all of us in everything that we do. Whether it is pure sublime affection that we feel for God, the intense closeness with our family and friends or the gut wrenching inexplicable attraction we sometimes experience for another person, love is the ultimate essence of life.

So then why celebrate love only on Feb 14th? In fact, I find the whole Valentine's day brouhaha a bit of a nuisance. Do we need the pathetic ‘love tokens’ like heart shaped velvet cushions and romantic gizmos like cuddly bears as proof of our love? Do we need to send fifty text messages to declare our feelings and buy frightfully expensive flowers to pass the test? Goggle eyed mushy couples take up every nook and corner of the city on this day. Most of them look as if they are trying very hard to be 'romantic' but all they manage to look is extremely tense and moronic. Why does love have to be confined to limitations of days, gifts, behaviour and other such patterns?

And who says love poems have to be sweet and syrupy and dripping with the scent of flowers? Why cant it be fierce, rancid and burning like this poem by Carol Ann Duffy:

Not a red rose or a satin heart
I give you an onion
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper
It promises light
Like the careful undressing of love
Here
It will blind you with tears
Like a lover
It will make your reflection
A wobbling photo of grief
I am trying to be truthful
Not a cute card or a kissogram
I give you an onion
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips
Possessive and faithful
As we are
For as long as we are
Take it
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring
If you like
Lethal
Its scent will cling to your fingers
Cling to your knife.