As I look at the chubby, dimpled body of one of my favourite celestial beings and gaze at his mischievous smile and curly hair. I subconsciously smooth my less-than-perfect curls which are also blonde like his, although mine came out of a bottle. I stare at my image in the mirror, framed with tiny filigreed cupids, and I wonder what compelled me to buy it. I don’t know whether to congratulate or chastise myself for this choice full-length mirror, a daily reminder of love hanging in my dressing room. I shrug my shoulders defiantly, as if to say, what’s done is done, so let’s get on with it without the bouquets or brickbats. As I struggle with the pragmatic and the romantic aspects of my personality, I decide that I will be romantic today. After all it is VALENTINE’S DAY and it comes only once a year and, more importantly, I have a date with Brad Pitt!
I start dressing up a little more fashionably. My crisp white salwar-kameez has razor-sharp creases, with a matching thick chunni perfectly showcasing yet concealing my voluptuous body, dangling earrings, dollops of moisturiser for my creamy complexion, a hint of rouge, a touch of lip gloss on my luscious non-collagen lips, an almost invisible line of grey eye liner and yet again I run my comb through my hair. I check my reflection one last time and satisfied with the image smiling back at me I head out.
As I descend the stairs I wait for a while as though expecting Brad to materialise with his horse-driven carriage or maybe the modern version of it, perhaps a sports BMW — a two-seater where we would sit so close to each other that even without consciously trying to, our bodies would brush against each other sending naughty thrills down our spine. Alas! I don’t see him so I do the next best thing. I stick my arm out and hail an auto.
As my bones rattle in the three-wheeler, driven by an auto driver who clearly believes that he is an F1 racer (Lewis Hamilton and Schumacher watch out for your job), I cannot stop thinking about my destination. My thoughts are focussed on what will happen when I get there. As for feelings… I have none. But I wonder if anything will be different because it is Valentine’s Day.
At last I reach and as my auto grinds to a halt, I am literally thrown on the ground by the zealous driver. I gaze at the building which had been my second home for over five years. But never before have I come here on cupid’s day. Here it is, this building, shoddily painted in the colour peculiar to government offices, drab, dull, patched in parts by still-visible cement, paan- and gutka-stained. The FAMILY COURT.
The hot date I had was with my husband. Why Brad Pitt? Well, we can all add a dash of spice to our life thinking of him as a husband or lover, what difference does a little fairytale belief makes if it brightens up one’s day.
So I guess if you look at the brass tacks, I wasn’t alone on Valentine’s Day. And after all, it was a date, albeit given by the court, with Brad/husband. And so what if we were meeting at the family court for our divorce proceedings? What the hell, a date is a date.
Happy Valentine’s Day! I hope your date isn’t as hot as mine.
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Originally published at www.huffingtonpost.in.
Originally published at medium.com