Love. An emotion so elusive, so oblivious to its origin, nonetheless endures as an eternal mint of hope and happiness. Do we need a stipulated day for its celebration? Love is an exquisite feeling making two analogous solitudes intertwine in the darkest alley of their lives.
Ten years ago, my wanderlust soul was tangled within this love-web. A Tamil boy and yours truly were soul-cuffed for life and a moniker came along. ‘TamBong’.
Love that appeared like a delicate snowflake; too frail to touch, too weak to lead alone, but sprouted an inexhaustible courage gradually; to preserve our togetherness and strive through the vagaries of life. When egos ballooned up, we burned them to ashes and like a phoenix rebounded back with a new zeal to love more and love further.
A Perfect Valentine’s Day would be away from this squabbling cacophony. No chocolates, diamonds and hush dining in an uptown restaurant. A day with my love in the solitude of one of the Maldivian Atolls would make my day.
The bright orange tinge of dawn stealing our sleep and sipping on our first dose of caffeine amidst the numinous tranquillity of the sea would be the most romantic morning. Strolling on the white powdery sands, unruffled water muddling between the hue of turquoise and sapphire, lush green palm and coconut fronds veering with the lilting breeze and those thatched roofs of the resorts feigning a rustic ambience; crafting an idyllic day to invigorate the lovebirds within us. And snorkelling through the multihued coral reefs and contesting with the scurrying vivid fishes would be the perfect entrée.
As the day looms to a close the water around would be enraptured by its luminescent planktons. The glittering stars, though many light years away, would bathe in the ripples of the sea. And being the blessed souls, we would lie under the sky pondering on the beautiful memories we had knitted in the past and vow again to preserve this beautiful life we created for ourselves.
This probably defines the perfect celebration of my Valentine’s Day. However, perfection is a big illusion. And I let that illusion flow through my imaginations for the magical ingredient of love to blossom within me.