Our day of love…and some

We’ve all seen those shady ‘Day of Love’ ads where gorgeous couples go to very public places and suddenly realize they’re in love, several years after they’ve been married. Then the scene cuts to them cuddling and wearing pricey wedding bands. Kind of depressing if you think of how they’d been planning to spend the rest of their lives with someone they don’t love and how your ‘Day of Love’ is about as awesome as a flea on a camel’s bum if you don’t have THOSE wedding rings. UGH!

Day of Love

However, a recent incident made me realize what’s what. I mean if you see the love of your life rapidly fading over the horizon and you’re on a train that’s chugging you onwards to your vacation, it isn’t the same joyous start of holidays that you envisioned. Dissing someone’s ‘Day of Love’ and then realizing that you’re probably going through the same thing, platinum band or not is just…well..eye opening. Know what I mean?

No?

Ok let me backtrack a bit. This Christmas, the one that has quite recently passed us by, the husband and I woke quite before the crack of dawn to begin our much awaited and much planned for vacation to Rajasthan. We were packed well in advance (a rare occurrence), I woke up bright and chirpy enough to actually have breakfast and look alive (an even rarer occurrence if it’s before 8am). We reached the station well before the train was due to make its appearance. All full of joy and thrilled to bloody bits.

The excitement clouded our vision you know, what with the station wearing a mild deserted look, the railway staff conspicuously absent and only a couple of chai wallahs and the nearly full moon to give us company as we yoga-d our chilled selves on the spot so we don’t freeze. Several trains came and went by. The people around us changed. The sky lightened and the world began coming to life.

Still our train remained obstinately out of sight.

After wearing our soles and patience thin, we lo and beholded our ride racing onto the platform as if the devil was on its ass and stopping about half a kilometer off from where we were assured, ASSURED I tell ya it would halt! Awkward shaped bags and zero self-respect in tow, husband and I literally barreled our way through HUNDREDS of people who had mysteriously congregated towards the train with absolutely no purpose in mind except to hinder us! The train squeaked to a halt and the husband vanished into the crowds! Frantic searching revealed nothing and I continued excuse me-ing myself through what seemed like the entire populace of the country. I would have had tears in my eyes had I not been so on the verge of a panic attack.

Clouded though my senses were, I discerned what seemed like mere seconds later, the train screeeeeeeeeeeeeee-d to a start and jolting ahead, taking a couple of my heart beats along with it. Tossing my bag heedlessly into an open door, I leaped into the train with a strength that belied my earlier sniffelling moments. My feet touch the ground, the phone rings and it’ the husband on the other side sounding as breathless as I felt.

‘GET ON THE TRAINNNNNNNN’

‘NOOOOO GET OFFFFFF ITTTTTTTT’

So between both of us trying to tell the other to do what whatevs, the train chugs up faster with me hanging onto a door with a shred of a fingernail screaming blue murder to the husband to get on. The poor husband looking utterly downcast just shrugged and slowly but surely became a distant spot on my horizon!

Trying to catch your breath, re-making ruined plans and jabbering away on the phone at the same time isn’t easy. But we managed it in whatever little time it took to get to a biggish station. The husband followed in the train behind mine. Very filmy. And while I slo-mo’d my way to him and gave him the love eyes, he looked at me disapprovingly and said, ‘Now what?’ mere seconds after we were dramatically re-united.

So while we were brooding on in a strange town and salvaging our vacation, we got hold of tickets to come back home. On what was called an ‘Inter-City’ but was actually a disaster on wheels carrying the husband and me, a heeooj crowd and about a million peanut shells. On the way it stopped at pretty much every little village in rural Haryana and we were wildly entertained by a drunk man and a miniscule old lady hurling abuses at each other. That day I learnt that we must NEVER EVER underestimate the ass-kicking powers of caustic old ladies. Finding out that they’re secret ninjas with a vocabulary that would make a sailor’s ears burn can be quite a game changer.

Old Lady Madagascar

Such a hectic and entertaining day could only end one way. With us neatly tucked onto a couch and slumbering away the rest of the day. Feeling mighty sorry for ourselves and what nots.

So much for being punctual and on top of things.

Image Credits

 

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One Response to Our day of love…and some

  1. Pingback: Jodhpur | ThePurpleImp

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