I woke up to a pleasant weekend as some buds had bloomed in the balcony. It was an apt onset of spring!
The newspaper advertisements
reminded me of the forthcoming Valentine’s Day. As the kids got busy with their
assignments, I proposed to take my wife – married with me uninterruptedly, for
fifteen years – out on a romantic amble.
The offer was tempting. She grabbed
it with both hands. I suggested a stroll in the lush green meadows around the
golf course; she decided to have a round of the market and then settle for some
feast.
I baulked, she remained steady. Alas! I did not realize the timing of
my offer. It was ‘SALE’ season. A chasm lay wide between my idea of romance and
hers.
I succumbed.
The shopping arcade was overflowing with people. The entire city seemed
to have descended there. Shopping, perhaps, was the only occupation left to the
world on weekend. Nevertheless, I could spot some young couples sitting glued
to each other in certain nooks, corners and side benches. Concretisation, I
felt, has deprived these urban lovers the fun of dancing and hiding around the
trees! The green writers who penned Ye
haseen vaadiyaan, ye khula aasmaan have, not without reason, graduated to
other subjects, leaving for history the eternal message of kya mausam hai, aye deewaney dil chal kahin door nikal jayen….
The heartthrobs no longer aspire for ‘kya mausam hai’.
“Kya! 'Sale’ Hai?” is perhaps the new norm.
As an obedient companion, I kept walking with her searching for a long
one-piece dress. With my eyes glued on the show-windows, I suggested one dress
vividly displayed on a mannequin. She remarked that it was not one-piece. We
moved. Another shop; another suggestion; another dress - it was not long
enough! A few suggestions and many shops later, she decided to try a couple of
dresses.
I run the risk of making this piece too long by narrating my
experiences outside the fitting room. They deserve another independent
write-up.
Nevertheless, none of the dresses fitted her, though to me, all were
suiting her. We proceeded further. She entered a showroom ‘Step-in’. With a
quick glance around the shop, I held her hand saying that this is a shoe shop
and they would not be having “a long one-piece dress”.
“So what? I need a high heel sandal as well”
I proposed one; she turned it down – not high enough. I proposed another; she turned it down again – I would look taller than you in this. I
stood agape – thinking of myself two hours ago when I floated my idea of romance–
now standing curtailed both in love as well as height. She was undaunted. I was
asked to look at the feet of a young lady trying new leather slip-ons – How are these? I politely declared that
these did not have HIGH heels. So what?
Aren’t they beautiful?
My clarity changed to confusion and valour vanished.
I nodded in acceptance. She tried but complained of shoe bite. The
shoes, I think, had sensed my feelings. We moved out again in search of “a long
one-piece dress”
As we crossed an eatery, she realized that it was time for some repast.
Indian/Continental/Chinese or …?
My gallantry had gone. I cut her short by pointing at the nearest eatery
– a Punjabi restaurant, few steps away. She pleasantly agreed. As we took those
small steps, I bemused how the ‘Sale’ tags had been key culprits in our saga,
nee my saga. While the Sale may save some money, it takes a mammoth toll on the
time value of lovers and humans. The discounts visible in terms of money do not
take in account the latent losses in terms of extra time in parking, waiting,
searching, scanning and fitting and above all, the loss of love. Still, many
call it a date! To preserve romance in the air, Sale bonanza should also come
with something similar to the statutory warnings on cigarettes. Till the time
that happens, shopaholics may take a cue from Corporate world which calculates
and values the time of its employees - to the last minute - in cost to company
assessments.
With shrunk sentiments, I sat looking at her as she glanced through the
menu, the eatery just played
Chittiyaan kalaayiaan ve,
tere hisse aayiaan ve,
Mann jaa ve… mainu shopping karaa de….
Smiles
simultaneously crossed our lips as we looked, in calm, into each other’s eyes
for the first time in this six hour date!
