You know that inside, they just love that one measly card and wilted rose. And you, you feel really crummy, or according to Bridget Jones, like ‘a singleton, who will die alone and be eaten by Alsations’!

In the Middle Ages, young men and women drew names from a bowl to see who their Valentines would be. They would wear these names on their sleeves for one week, and these pairings would often end in couples falling in love and marrying.

"Valentine’s Day! Pooh—what a load of commercialised nonsense.” We giggled as we sat around a cozy table at an equally snug coffee shop. “I mean, earlier it was just a day that allowed one to express their love. Now it’s as if it’s mandatory to proclaim ‘love’ for someone.” quipped my friend Disha. “Totally!” agreed my pal Namrata. “And it gives all these roadside Romeos an excuse to come up randomly to people with a rose saying ‘Will you make friendships with me?'” she laughed. “Well, I’m not going to subscribe to this Valentine rubbish,” said a serious-looking Purvi. “I mean it’s a waste of money and we’re just unnecessarily feeding the flower, gift and greeting card stores.” “Definitely!” we all nodded in agreement. “Valentine’s Day is going to be tremendously down-played for us, this year at least”, I said on a conclusive note. There was a slight pause, as all of us looked confident, but secretly uncomfortable.

Deep down, each one of us was hoping that we would receive at least that one sweet card, that one fragrant bouquet, that one little surprise as we opened our eyes on that fateful Monday morning. Or that one spirit-lifting doorbell at the stroke of midnight, on the eve of Valentine’s. We all knew how silly and commercialised it was. We were sick of the fifty thousand music albums that were suddenly compiled two weeks before Valentine’s Day, and the numerous leaflets advertising ugly and over-priced Valentine’s Day bouquets. But the whole ‘red heart’ culture, as I chose to name it, had gotten ingrained in us. It’s as if we had evolved with it over the years. Everywhere one looked, people were sending out Valentine packages to their sweethearts abroad, or looking for chocolate-makers, who made candies shaped like your significant other, or caricature artists to create a semblance of your honey. All this, did in a way induce a longing in you to be part of the ‘loved’ brigade. And now there wasn’t even a bowl with everyone’s names in it to ensure that each would have a Valentine! They were much smarter than us then. Making it a custom to be noticed and pampered for at least a week, in the name of a festival.

And if by chance, not one measly card, or one wilted rose or one pathetic-looking teddy bear makes its way to your doorstep, while everyone around you calls and exclaims, “Oh gawd! Can you believe that loser Sanju from the colony dropped off that huge koala toy we saw the other day? I mean where the hell do I keep it yaaaa?” And you know that inside, they just love Sanju from the colony for caring about them. And you, you feel really crummy, or according to Bridget Jones, like ‘a singleton, who will die alone and be eaten by Alsations’!

So all the Sanjus, Peters and Mohits, please do keep in mind, that more than a 'celebration of love’, Valentine’s Day is a celebration of ‘being noticed’. So do notice all the damsels around you, pick them and wear their names on your sleeve! Because even though these are not the Middle Ages and they may not run into your arms, they will always secretly appreciate you for realising and acknowledging their existence on the day it is supposed to be acknowledged. So whaddaya know girls? Even though the day after Valentine’s will be spent laughing at the poor souls who procured cards and flowers for us, inside we will be thanking our stars that at least we didn’t go unnoticed, while everyone else was basking in the light on the most-hyped day of the year!

Such is the contradiction we call urban living. Happy Valentine’s Day!