Valentine's Day 2014

Valentine’s Day this year started off on a really high note. He got me a single-stem rose…and served me coffee in bed. I put on our favourite playlist on my phone and brought out an old photo album. And then we cuddled up in bed, looking at some old photographs...of our most romantic days.

One was taken at my home in Kolkata, when we were planning the wedding guest list. I was in familiar surroundings...sitting on my bed in my PJs, looking happy….and smiling at the camera. He was on a chair, in his favourite brown jacket, poring over a sheet of paper (the guest list), unaware of the camera. It was a simple, candid snap …but there was something magical about it. It almost took us back to that moment…the excitement, the nervousness, the joy and the promise of a future together.

Another one was taken at a temple (in Dakshineswar) where we had gone with our families, just days before the wedding. I was in a white salwar-kameez, looking coy and innocent. He was in a faded kurta, squinting at the sunlight that fell on his face. We stood at a distance from each other (although there was no one else in the photograph), mindful of the presence of the elders. But we had never felt so close.

Then there was one taken at our first home together, in Bangalore. I think it was taken on the New Year’s eve of 2008 (by a dear friend who had just moved to Bangalore too). He rested his head on my shoulders and we both looked slightly drunk….and VERY happy (was probably just the drink).

As I was about to turn over the page in the photo album, I felt a kick. First a light one….and then a strong, purposeful one.

And there ended my dream.

There was no rose…or coffee…or music…or photographs.  But there SHE was….our little bundle of joy, kicking us away for her morning feed. No photograph could capture that moment, where two individuals, longing for a few more minutes of sleep, force their eyes open….only to see a wide-eyed ball of cuteness looking at them from under her sheets. And that’s how Valentine’s Day started off this year….and I hope that’s how it starts for us every day of our lives (minus the kicking perhaps).

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And now for the part that the censor board cut out so that the romance in this story wasn't tainted:

The first light kick that I felt was from the above-mentioned bundle of joy. The second one…stronger and more purposeful, was from the bundle’s dad, who was trying to wake me up so that I could feed the bundle and let him sleep in peace.