Where art thou, my Valentine?

With the blog-o-sphere full of Valentines' Day posts and red, pink and white cute somethings and gift ideas and mushy rumblings, can yours truly be far behind? But given my obsession with pain, you won't be disappointed if you are expecting something other than a lovey-dovey post here. Yes, love  is magical. I don't deny that. I'd never deny that. I've been in love. I've seen how colorful and happy the mundane things look when you are in love. I know exactly how one blushes after breaking into a sheepish grin in the middle of a class, thanks to a stupid piece of happy memory. I know how perfect it feels to wake up next to your loved one and see the sun rays playing on the curtain behind their head.
                                                                                                      But, contrary to what Acrhies and its cousins would have us believe, Valentines' Day is as much about the pain and heartbreak that come along with love as the happiness and bliss. As many of you might know,the origin of this day lies in the popular story that Saint Valentine of Rome was imprisoned for performing weddings for soldiers who were not allowed to marry. Before his execution, he wrote a letter to the daughter of his jailer and signed it "Your Valentine" as a farewell. Does this heart-wrenching story actually encourage the roses-chocolates-teddies-candles-waltz extravaganza we indulge into every year on this very day? Shouldn't it rather be a day when we remember all those fated lovers who struggled all their life to be together and either died in the process or achieved success only when they were too tired to relish it? Shouldn't we thank God on this very day for being lucky enough to be with our love so easily? Shouldn't we be thankful that the ones we fell in love with loved us back? Shouldn't we be thankful that we were allowed by the rest of the world to fall in love? Shouldn't we be thankful that our dreams came true when we were young enough to feel the ecstasy it brought forth? And shouldn't we shed a tear or two for those who didn't turn out to be as lucky as we were? This deprived set is a lot bigger than we think- the in-numerous number of people who fall in love with people of same sex, married people, people from different castes, religions, race, creed, country? In short, the ones whose love stories don't have a certain ending like that of ours. Don't these less fortunate ones deserve a little more than our sarcastic comments or judgmental glances?
          So, this Valentines' Day, walk up to the person you made fun of the other day- be it a beggar who claimed to be a millionaire before his wife died and his daughter-in-law threw him out, a friend with a forbidden love life or the daughter of the domestic help who had a love child. One kind word costs nothing. One hug would leave you warmer and lighter. One prayer won't bite into your quota of happiness. You make someone's day, their smile and blessings would make yours automatically. Because happiness is a privilege and this is the only way of thanking the superior power for blessing you with a bunch of it.
                                                                                        The pictures are the leftovers from the Look Book-2013 of Howrah Bridge that created quite a stir on the social media. I don't look conventionally pretty, thanks to the oiled hair, no makeup, acne, blackheads and the sun but some pictures are all about their nostalgic value. Besides, looking pretty was never a part of the checklist. Remember the blog introduction?

Palazzo-B.K.Market, white shirt-New Market,hat and ring-borrowed from Anu,bow tie and jacket-Howrah Bridge
Styling, picture and location courtesy- Anu