Our very first Valentine's day as a couple, was the last day of our honeymoon in Goa. My non-mushy-but-newly-married-giddily-in-lowe self had managed to secretly buy a funny card and hide it amongst the husband's clothes. Anyway, the card was found and duly appreciated with a hug and a "OH,ummmm Thanks" . In case anyone's wondering , I hadn't learnt the art of pointed sulking by then and he's more than made up for that bland answer these past six years, but that's another kind of post entirely .
Three years later,on the 14th of Feb, the husband was coming back home after work, with a friend,when the said friend stopped his car in front of a roadside flower seller. The husband, ever the silent observer, managed to put two and ten together, when in response to indignant comments about roses costing a bomb , the flower guy began his spiel about how Valentine's day was THE day when he and card companies actually earned the butter for their dry bread.So it was , that I opened the door to the man with a dozen red roses hidden behind his back. Of course his version of it would be something on the lines of how he had remembered all along and asked his friend to stop the car etc.etc.Anyway, regardless of the truth, I was ecstatic because he had got flowers for me,for the VERY FIRST TIME without being told to stop the car in front of the flower shop on the way back home from dinner.
Last February, I was at home, and the husband was away on tour. My parents had driven down nearly a thousand kilometres, just to keep me company, as they often do when I am alone.(Yes, I love them for treating me like a baby...sometimes ;) A day before the 14th of Feb,2009,it was unanimously agreed by the ladies of the house that my father wouldn't mind driving a 300 km round trip from home to Hyderabad and back. After some gentle persuasion and reminders about the electronic components for projects, to be bought from the computer market , my father agreed that he wouldn't mind either. So, on Valentine's day last year,while the (Indian)world and it's girlfriend were busy dodging/cocking a snoot at "the protectors of Indian tradition", the folks and I spent a long hectic day cursing traffic, shopping and eating out at my favourite restaurant. That night, around 11:40 pm, as I lay in bed,nursing a bad back and about to drift off to sleep, I was given a reason to remember it as the best Valentine's day ever. Thanks to the Artimator who chose to give me a taste of things to come, with his very first perceptible kick from inside my (pregnant) belly.