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A list of the lovey dovey stuff

A list of the lovey dovey stuff

It’s valentine week (We don’t care. So commercial. Stupid Archies. Whatever. Rolls eyes) so we sat down and picked 8 things that made us blush and gush and some that simply reinforced our belief in love (This is nothing like Madhuri Dixit buying flowers and heart-shaped candy for herself in Dil Toh Pagal Hai).

Louie and Pamela. I know it’s television and it’s scripted but this is probably one of the most beautiful declarations of love I have ever seen on television.

Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.” From this Sugar Says column.

This letter from U.S President Ronald Reagon to his 26 year old son.

Hema and kaushik. It’s not the greatest love story ever written, in fact I’m sure there are far better ones but this has stuck to the sides of my brain for some strange reason. It’s when loves mixes with loss and emptiness; the kind that makes you jump about and smile but leaves your eyes hollow. Jhumpa lahiri’s short stories from Unaccustomed Earth tell the story of Hema and Kaushik. It keeps changing perspective and talks about cultural similarity and the similarity of a meaningless existence that the two characters face. It’s one of those beautiful stories.

In the language of love, there’s love and then there’s The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams. My favourite passage is the conversation that the Rabbit and Skin Horse have early on in the story, when Rabbit wants to know what being real is. “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.” Here, just read the whole story.

The closing of credits of Grease can either be incredibly ridiculous or incredibly sincere. Maybe it’s because I love nonsense words, or because I love Travolta in that film, or that I love the whole film, but to my mind, real romance is when the two of you go together like rama lama lama ke ding-a-de-dinga-dong.

Deeti and Kalua. There are some books that come to you when you need them the most; when you feel like nothing will ever make things better. And then they do. I’m a terribly huge fan of Amitav Ghosh’s Ibis trilogy and especially of Deeti and Kalua’s story from the Sea of Poppies. He saves her from having to jump into her husband’s funeral pyre and then run away to start a life together. It’s love unlike we know or see because it’s pure and complicated but still sweet like teenage love. At the end of the book, Kalua leaves the Ibis to save his life and for the past four years, I have been waiting for Ghosh to finish the trilogy so I can finally know what happened to them.

I’m an Emily Dickinson fan. My favourites have always been the shorter ones with strong imagery and since in college my life was all about the unrequited, part of me clings to Wild nights! Wild nights!, as a symbol of joyousness and hope one needs in matters of the heart. WOW, that was a long sentence.

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Wild nights! Wild nights!

Were I with thee,

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

Futile the winds

To a heart in port,—

Done with the compass,

Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!

Ah! the sea!

Might I but moor

To-night in thee!

Love in the time of texting

Love in the time of texting

I’m not an overly nostalgic person. I don’t dream of being in Paris in 1920 (although Hemingway and I would be great drinking buddies) or the renaissance or wish that I was part of India’s beautiful fight for freedom. I like 2012. I like that I don’t have to kill myself trying to remember little details: For instance, who was the guy who gets into Michel Cera’s car in Nick and Norah’s infinite playlist? Who knows? Wait, I’ll just google it (it’s Seth Meyers by the way). I like that we don’t use twigs and have really awesome flavoured toothpaste to brush our teeth with and I really, really love that a thing like instant soup exists.

And that is why I’m usually in a minority when people say that romance is dying in the digital age. Oh, you kids don’t know about yearning with all your instant messaging and skype-ing. Do I see the beauty in pining and writing long letters? Yes I do. But I also love that you don’t have to miss people and you still can. The most romantic stories I’ve ever read usually involves misunderstandings and lack of communication that could easily be fixed with one text message. Oh, and I love text messages. As a writer, who is not completely in control of her emotions when fighting, that perfectly composed text is a savior. I’m an annoying fighter because instead of using the effective, “Fuck off and please don’t talk to me again,”, I will wield powerful sentences with multiple commas, semi colons and em dashes in them. (I’m a little ashamed to admit but sometimes I will go back and re-read a text fight if only to admire my own work).

Is over information ever a bad thing? Oh, let me know less about this disease I have; let me put all my money in this stock. What is this research thing you speak of? No one ever says that and I don’t see the point in getting to know a boyfriend/girlfriend/date over time. Because really, if there is something gross or fundamentally flawed in a person, I’d like to know that upfront, thank you very much. I don’t want to spend a month with someone and then realise he uses ‘babez’ un-ironically.


I recently re-watched Amol Palekar’s Choti Si Baat where Palekar, in bell bottom pants and polka dotted shirts stalks a girl around Bombay. Stalking is totally a legit love thing; we just use Facebook now. Facebook stalking is kind of a boon. Let’s not pretend otherwise. Information is power and knowing you’re ex boyfriend/girlfriend is dating someone whose favourite band is Limp Bizkit is extremely empowering.

We take love seriously too. We are not a generation that doesn’t care. In fact, we spend a considerable amount of time ‘researching’ someone before we do and I do not see the problem. There is no charm in a beautiful husband in a suit who drinks scotch and sleeps with his secretaries while you stay at home and make a pot roast (though seriously, if Don Draper was on Facebook, he’d probably have two profiles. One for family and one of him dressed only in bathing trunks).

I wish people would stop talking like idiots sometimes. Stop talking about your relationship like it is a math problem that needs work. Stop talking about how beautiful the concept of dating used to be. Stop talking and wanting. Nostalgia is an indulgence. And I don’t mean that what’s gone is trivial. In fact it’s very well documented and that is why we know about it. You wish you were born in a time when people listened to jazz? Well, guess what? You have the internet to listen to whatever the fuck you want. It is absolutely ok to look at pictures and spend an evening drinking Old Monk and discussing that epic road trip sometimes. But you cannot live there. You are not that person anymore and this is not that time.

We are a generation of people always holding on tightly to a time that made us happy and comfortable. We really need to stop whining all the damn time.

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