A Valentine's Day from 1992 Delhi

Scarlet was the only color of roses sold in markets and handed to girls in schools and even bus stops in 1992 in Delhi. The festival started at Archies card shop in the neighborhood market. Hallmark cards with puppies, bunnies, kittens with lovelorn eyes invited recipient to “Be my Valentine.”

At that time, I was 14 and had two posters pasted on the plywood above our air-conditioning unit—one was Tom Cruise, Maverick from Top Gun, and the other was a cocker spaniel with a bow.  

Valentine Day cards were strictly boyfriend-girlfriend affair. Me, the loved and he the lover. Love. Pyar. Ishq, Mohabbat. All of course hidden from teachers and prying classmates. By the time it was French class, a card had been slipped into my books. And in recess in our school grounds, I was told I was the one and I listened as I finished my lunch, dutifully packed by my mother. I kept wondering if she had the powers to listen through plastic lunch box or maybe through the February air that was crisp, cool and full of secrets that bloomed in teenage hearts.  And then I remembered my rebellion against her imparting knowledge of water hyacinths when I asked her to help out with botany a night ago.

I quickly chose to close that book in my mind and continued eating the yummy mango pickle with each morsel of paratha to fill the cavernous hunger pit in my stomach. Food withstood the test of time pre-boyfriend era and during its peak as well.  

I must have nodded at least to him because I hardly spoke and from then on I was sampling his lunch with absolute copyright. 

We connected through food. His, not mine.

Every morning, I sampled his dosas, made with the rice and lentils that can be righteously fermented in a South-Indian kitchen versus our Maharashtrian kitchen to be rolled out on a nonstick pan in spiral motion, sprinkled with oil until crispy, golden brown crepes formed. His mom even gave fresh chutneys of red, orange and green color without any artificial flavors – mustard seeds, crushed curry leaves, coconut, dry red chillies ‘tadka’ and seeds of green mirchi that had the potential of making all other 44 in the room sneeze. 

We paid attention to differential calculus, thermodynamics and were happy and enjoyed till we could — the harmless sweet love as sweet as a puppy, kitten or bunny.