It’s Valentine’s day this Friday and as is so common on such occasions the TV, newspapers and magazines are swarming with advertisements of different things to do and buy for your loved ones.
This is my second Valentine’s without him around. Sometimes I feel a sadness so deep that I am paralyzed. During those times I just sit in my corner and wait for the hours to pass. Or I just strut about the house muttering to myself.
Yesterday was one such day. I could neither read nor write. So after wasting a whole morning sulking, I decided to end this state of stupor I was in once and for all. I started to rearrange my writing space and library one more time. (Mind you this is the third time this month I am fixing the same desk and library.)
As you may all know by now I love to write with fountain pen. My pen fills from a bottle. I love to write with different colors of ink on white plain paper with no lines on it. As soon as I finish a bottle I try to replace it with a new one. But on my desk I have kept one empty ink bottle for almost a decade now. It’s a special bottle that my husband gave to me on Valentine’s day.
We were living in Dubai then and I was teaching in school. The ink was red and when I wrote with it, it smelled of roses, the entire page smelled of roses. It came in such a beautiful bottle with the words “je t’aime” inscribed on the cover.
I remember my colleagues making fun of me the next day when I told them that I got a bottle of ink as a Valentine’s gift. It might seem crazy to some but for me it was the most romantic gift ever.
See he was this very special guy who never gave me roses on Valentine’s day but he sure made me feel special in his own special way. That was his pattern and I miss him terribly.
Agatha Christie wrote:
“Somehow or other, though, you would always find your way to your own pattern, because I am sure you are following a pattern: your pattern of life. You can embellish your pattern and so long as you are following it you will know harmony, and a mind at ease with itself.”