Funny – Love in India

Midnight Fairy Tales – Part 2 (Reader’s story)

Guest post by Bakhtawar

I checked the tank, it had sufficient to take me home but not more. I said I’m sorry. I asked her where she was headed, she replied home and was scared
being alone at this time of the night. The city didn’t have a good reputation for safety of women. I enquired that her home was around 35kms from the
dhaba, the cellphone battery had been long empty .It was impossible for her to go home from there. I didn’t want to leave her on the mercy of a taxi. I
offered my apartment as a bivouac for the night and asked her to leave early in the morning when the petrol pumps would open up. Initially she was
reluctant, but later succumbed to my mot juste insistence after a heated debate with the stall owner about the possibility of reprobates with amatory
desires coming to the dhaba at night. I put on the helmet while she sat on my ride. Bakhtawar was at its best that night, it knew this would go a long way.

GRRUM GRRUM, Bakhtawar now carrying both of us sailed through. Bakhtawar’s resplendent black body, the shining steel rims sparkling in the moonlight and
the grumps, It was a ride to remember forever.

I reached home, parked my ride and went inside the frowsy room first to put everything on the table and the bed hastily into the cupboard. I called her and
in she came. She looked around for sometime and then took a chair besides the study table.

“So, what would you have”, I asked

“Nothing, thank you.”

“What about a coffee?”

“No, I don’t feel like having anything…”

“Okay, I’ll make some coffee for both of us, drink it whenever you want. :) ”

“Okay… :) ”

By the time I came back, she was reading a book. She was reading Gogol. I said”He’s one writer who had real wits. You don’t get to see that kind of humor
these days”. She smiled and said she’d never read him before. That made me flaunt all my literary pursuits,

“Have you read Pushkin?”

“No.”

“Umm…Khaled Hosseini?”

“Yeah…that one…about the doctor right?”

“Yes yes, did you like it?”

“It was good, it made me cry as well”

“Hmm…”

I wanted to keep the conversation going, wanted to talk to her.

Praise the Lord for those 3 cups of coffee each, we talked all night. From books, music, films to school, college, love and sex. She had the cute female
perspective on everything while I had the crude, boyish one. By morning we had established a bond between us, like we had known each other for years before
this. Time went on, and it was time for her to leave. After refueling her car, I asked “when are you planning your next trip here with an empty tank?”

“Haha, you want me to get stuck and scared again??” replied Nazneen.

“Well, I don’t mind if it turns out exactly like last night.”

“I’ll be seeing you”, she kissed me on the cheeks (my guerdon), and then left. I kept looking at her car till she disappeared after the next crossing.

“Holy….Cow”, I forgot to take her number and give her mine. I felt so disappointed and restless at such a big loss. The only option I have now is to wait
for Nazneen to arrive at my doorstep one day and so I’m waiting. It’s been two days now and she’s made a writer out of me already. Phew!

Midnight Fairy Tales – Part 1 (Reader’s story)

Guest post by Bakhtawar

Two nights ago, after having a drink or two at a soiree at my friends place, I and Bakhtawar were returning home. It must have been around 1 in the night when I decided to explore the city in the silence of the night. The road I was moving on had been so irritating some hours back, now it was calling for lone riders to talk to it.

Grrrrrrr, the soft, polite and yet strong cadence of Bakhtawar sailing through the chilly winter night breeze made me feel like a king. It was as if each road was waiting to greet me, calling me to be on it. The roads on which millions travelled each day with their happiness, sorrows, ambitions, curse, pride and despair were indeed the garbage dumps of anger and frustration. Engrossed in these thoughts, I kept sailing past high rise apartments and buildings, restaurants, taverns, schools, offices, markets, each telling me a new story until I was stopped for verification at a police check post. “kahan se aa rahe ho?” was what I was asked.

I replied “ghar se, bike par yuhin dilli raat ko dekhne nikla hun”.

Photo by driver Photographer

“Chalo, license aur gaari ke kagaz nikalo”.

I lied where I had come from considering the fact that telling him that I had returned from my friends place would inevitably let them conclude that I had drinks.

After around 5 minutes of frisking and checking legal documents I was allowed to go by the short fat middle aged man. The funny thing about the man was the small rectangular belt buckle he wore. It faced the floor perfectly courtesy the mammoth load it had to bear around the man’s gigantic tummy. I said “shukriya” as I left

Going past a prominent college in the city I recalled preparing to get into it, it was a dream, not because of the moolah I would earn after passing out but because of the ‘chicks’ and parties that were synonymous with the college. I remembered my college days, those parties which lasted forever sans girls! Out in the distance I saw a small food stall (dhaba), realizing my strong urge for a hot cup of tea in the chilly night I parked my ride, lit a navy cut and ordered tea.

Echoes of old Hindi songs played in the background from the radio in the stall, the stall owner hymned along making my tea while I smoked, looking around the place full of trees and flowers. Tea was served and it was wonderful having something hot in the chill. As there was no one else in the dhaba, I started a conversation with the stall owner asking about the place and the reason he had kept his stall open till then. He replied that he had been a taxi driver for 5 years and realizing the necessity of tea stalls for tired taxi drivers to beat the chill at night, had started this stall 2 years back. The conversation went on for around 10 more minutes until a white car stopped at the dhaba. To my great surprise a woman came out of it.

The stall owner looked in awe, she was well dressed. She wore a beautiful grey long jacket, had put on light make up. She had long hair. I could make out she was scared. She came to the stall owner and said “bhaiya, meri gaadi ka petrol khatam ho gaya hai, aapke paas thoda petrol pada hai”, “saare petrol pump band ho gaye hain”. The stall owner replied “nahin madam, aap inse (pointing towards me) pooch lijiye”. She turned to me, I hushed “eee mmm I’m not sure, umm.. I’ll check”.

Boy was she beautiful.

(to be continued)

Dating in India – Is it finally happening?

“Yeah that’s right. Don’t let your parents arrange your marriage. Don’t let your auntie/cousin create your matrimonial profile. How on earth am I supposed to get married if I happen to have not been lucky enough to just run into my soul mate accidentally??”

My vehement advocacy of freedom of choosing one’s life partner has landed me in trouble not once, not twice, but several times. To be frank, I kinda don’t mind.

But this was serious. My follower-cum-friend T wanted a real solution to a real problem: What about those who don’t “accidentally” find someone to fall in love with?

“Well, that’s why we have dating.” I offer, as we sip coffee together on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Separated by a few thousand miles. Typing away fiercely.

“Which doesn’t exist in India. Let’s be honest.”

Dating … What?

Well…er…right. Indians do marry for love. But these matches are usually based on people “accidentally” finding each other through work/school/mutual friends and relatives. No nonsense, goal-driven dating is still rare.

“But what about online dating?”

“You try it. The profiles are mostly either fake or of sickos looking for new ways to get off.”

“You’re right. I would probably not go out on a “date” with a guy I didn’t already know and/or like,” I was thinking aloud. “You can’t really trust people you don’t know.”

“See?” I could almost see the look of huffed triumph on T’s face.

The conversation stuck with me. Indian girls are simply put off by online dating. Strange men are usually seen as sources of potential danger in our culture, and for good reason. So what are the options of the young, urban(ized), upwardly mobile singles who’re bored of matrimonial websites and are ready to write the Indian Dating Story?

I did my research. I was surprised to find how many Indian dating portals and apps exist. While each was unique in its own cool ways, none of these apps answered my basic question: Am I sure I’m not wasting my time?

In other words, how sure am I of the quality of the member community?

One of the apps which stood out is called Woo – A cool mobile meeting platform for interesting, young, progressive singles.

Keeping it real

So what’s Woo’s answer to my question? And why is it special?

The answer is simple – a flat rejection of my sign up request. And it’s special because it irked me and wowed me at the same time.

What characterizes Woo is its commitment to keeping things real – creating opportunities for you to find a person you can actually go out on a date with. The platform intends to actively discourage “casual” flirting and thrill-seeking by people not looking for a serious relationship. For starters, when you try to sign up it screens your Facebook profile to check if you’re married or in a relationship, and politely declines to have you on board if you are. Woo rejects a substantial proportion of the sign up requests that it gets. It calls itself a “curated community” of real singles, looking for a real connection.

But being single on Facebook isn’t your sure-fire ticket on to Woo-land.

Woo auto-creates your profile photo album from Facebook.

Woo pulls in what you do for a living from Linkedin.

It even auto-populates your interests (in the form of pages you subscribe to) from Facebook.

That’s how real your Woo avatar would be once you’re past the sign up stage.

This approach isn’t free of its glitches though. I, like most of you, subscribe to many pages on Facebook, without giving a lot of thought to it. Like humour pages, friend’s photography pages etc. Woo picks two pages out of those under “interests” and shows it to one’s matches, which may not at all be representative of one’s actual interests. (In my case “Neha G Photography” showed up as one of these two. What the ….?)

However, the bottom line remains – no faking customizing of interests in order to attract people you like. No “enhanced” profile pictures for dating purposes. No padded up resume. Just the real you. That’s all you get to bring on to Woo.

Liar liar…

Between you and me – the rejection didn’t feel great. That ensured I was all the more curious to find out what exactly Woo offered me in return for demanding such high standards of authenticity.

Here’s what I did. I signed up through the Facebook profile of a single friend. :D

First surprise after you’re past the profile creation stage – it’s telling you to turn on your GPS.

My GPS?? I almost checked again to make sure I was not on Google Maps.

This was wow. This was truly unique. In keeping with Woo’s commitment to “keeping it real”, it gives you match suggestions of people only in the same city as you – people you can date in the real world. True to its principle of accepting nothing but the truth, Woo doesn’t trust you with disclosing your true location. It would rather believe your GPS.

Woo sometimes takes this mistrust of its users to a pesky level. For example, you can’t write what you want about yourself in the “About me” section. Users are allowed only to pick from a list of pre-defined adjectives which describe them, such as “wanderer”, “music maven” etc. Trolling-proof as they may be, standardized interests for everyone with no scope for expressing oneself freely takes a whole lot of the fun out of a dating app.

The final move

When it comes to match suggestions, Woo takes into account your mutual friends on Facebook, which increases credibility. If you like someone and are too shy to just kick it off by sending them a message, you can even ask mutual friends to introduce you.

You can open up a chat only if the attraction is mutual, i.e. if you confirm that you like someone and they return the favour. That takes care of spam. As a further measure against spamming, Woo also lets you “hide” your profile from being displayed publicly, if you want use the app to chat only with your existing matches.

You can continue to chat on Woo’s plush red-and-wood themed IM platform till you’re comfortable to take things to real life. (Oh btw, Woo’s Indianized humour emoticons are the coolest I’ve EVER used. And that includes Facebook. And Whatsapp.)

So if you’re a young adult, out there looking for a real relationship, Woo might just be your perfect start. If you’re a woman, with the whole suite of security tools from anti-stalking to anti-spam features, this is also one of the safest it’s going to get on a dating app.

Real matches. The real you. A real connection.

Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post.

30 Life Lessons No Self-Help Book will Teach You

After a long, ill-advised absence from the cyber-space, I’m back with a deluge of life-changing advice for the gullible.

Do “life lessons” change lives?

Not unless you’re gullible enough to believe them wholeheartedly. (Hint: The best thing to do with the next 30 bullet points is to not believe them, ’cause if you do, they might change the way you look at life!)

With that disclaimer, here goes:

Life is not fair. (Yeah that’s #1.)
You can’t change others. Stop trying.
Nothing is permanent. Neither good times, nor bad.
Not everything is under your control. Do your best with the ones that are, and let go of the rest.
There is such a thing as sheer luck, and no – you don’t necessarily have more of it by working harder.
Your “ideal” partner doesn’t exist. Find someone who absolutely, perfectly fits the “must have” bill and tear up the “nice to have” one.
His/her looks matter zilch in the long run. Not “very little”. Zilch.
Some days are just bad days. Let them pass.
Take a lot, a lot of time to trust.

Photo by handywallsii

Hard work is necessary, but not sufficient for success.
The only way to get started is to get started.
You’ll never make as much money as you’d like to make. Shift your focus from “money” to “happiness”.
In the long run marriage gives you companionship. If you’re expecting anything more, don’t marry.
Stable relationships are boring ~~most of the time~~ sometimes. It doesn’t mean love has died.
In any situation, respond. Don’t react.
You don’t have to love your job. Most claim to, but few actually do.
Feel your emotions. But don’t be controlled by them.
Your career is less important than you think. Develop other aspects of your life before it’s too late.
Murphy’s Law usually holds true. Prepare accordingly.
Sometimes the best way of winning someone back is to let them go.
Sometimes there is no way of winning someone back. Accept it.

Photo by WayneWho?

Being open to new ideas isn’t always a good thing. Know your core values.
“Everything” is NOT possible. Accept it.
A failure isn’t always a new beginning, a learning opportunity or “the best thing that could’ve happened to you”. Sometimes it’s a big, hairy, real failure with nothing but negative implications for your life. In such cases, acceptance itself is an achievement.
Sometimes the glass is completely empty. It’s called life. You don’t always have to hallucinate. :D
There are exceptions, but in general good things happen to bad people. Get over it.
Don’t always feel guilty about not being productive. Sometimes, live.
You do have a split second before you let yourself fall in love. Use it.
Happiness is the only goal you’re certain to achieve if you chase it. Everything else is uncertain.
Never measure yourself with others’ yardstick. The only real failure is failure to find true happiness in life.

What do you think? Let me know. :)

Rain-soaked Rumblings of a Raving Romantic

She’s finally here.

With due pomp and circumstance, due anticipation and due carelessness, expected charm and unexpected addictiveness she’s here.

For those of you who’re too bored with my predictable tri-chotomies, it’s our intensely seductive, oh-so-anticipated new neighbour – the rainy season – I’m talking about.

The first evening that the rains really – I mean really really – hit us here in our part of Mumbai, I was in no position to pay any attention to it. Shubho was down with very high fever. I had already spent the entire evening going to the local doctor, buying medicines, sponging him, feeding him and getting worked up in general … till I realized it had silently started. In hindsight, I guess it was silenced by the fever-heavy cacophony inside my head.

Do you see where this is going? Me neither. Anyway, let’s go on till too much thinking gets in the way.

Photo by Bahman Farzad

“My eyes lose themselves in the pouring abundance …

Seeking the mystical faraway …

Was it just the drizzly breeze or your eternal futile cries

Piercing the heart of my lonely day?”

Before you have a heart-attack (or call your publisher-uncle as you catch your breath) – wait. Those are not my lines. Just an over-ambitious attempt at reproducing some timeless rainy melodies.

“Monsoon.” (Replace with synonym in your mother tongue). What is it, really?

Is it just a welcome shower of relief after the (inevitably) volcanic summer?

Is it the unfortunate result of a gaping hole suddenly driven through the sky? (Don’t know about this one? Ask your two year old nephew.)

Is it just one of the innumerable divine punishments for the sins of humanity? (Ask Shubho.)

Or is it that time of the year which makes you feel alive again? Is it that pest of a pal of yours who forces your mind off the important stuff and out through the window? Is it that magic potion which acts against your natural instinct of self-preservation and doesn’t let you close the windows at night, ensuring you wake up coughing next morning?

Have you figured out The Point of this post yet? If not, good going. If yes, please don’t let it slip – I don’t want to know. ;)

Photo by ►CubaGallery

Fortunately for me, that evening when the rains really really hit us was a Friday evening. And incredibly more fortunately for me, the fever (understandably) got bored by the very next day and left. This ensured Sunday morning consisted of just me and the rains. Sadly our relationship had to be limited to one-sided ogling. You see, I wasn’t sure I’d survive physical intimacy.

It was crazy, as it was serene.

It was exhilarating, as it was melancholic.

It was… OK no tri-chotomizing. Let’s just say it made me realize I belong in the fourth group – the “rains make me feel alive again” one. As if you hadn’t figured that out already. :P

I don’t know about you, but I’m all excited. Yes, in spite of the time and money spent on my daily commute having doubled. I’m fascinated by the mythological tales surrounding the Mumbai monsoon. And I’m all geared up for soaking it all up for real this time.

So here’s a big Welcome to the pesky droplets, to the addictive grey skies, to the erratic soaking blasts, to the shivers, to the pensive moods…

Oh yes. Also to the puddles in the street, to the muck, to the un-usability of public transport, to the cough and cold, and to the utter chaos all around.

Happy monsoon ~~penguins~~ pigeons! J

The Single’s Guide to Valentine’s Day in India

Here’s an excerpt from a blog post Amrita had written on her last year as a single maiden.

“OMG is it that dreaded day of the year already? Dammit I’ve missed the deadline this year too. Of getting a boyfriend, that is. As if treading on a surprise bouquet of roses meant for my roommate followed by discovering another one on the desk of my evil colleague weren’t enough to make me drown in chocolate (on Valentine’s Day discount already), all my friends on Facebook and Twitter have decided to remind me of all the cheesy romanticism in their lives, especially my best friend’s damn blog www.loveinindia.co.in and her damn romance-oozing Facebook page www.facebook.com/letstalkrelationships.”

Photo by Mat_the_W

Oh wait. We weren’t around at the time. So why did she say anything about us? The world is a bit confusing sometimes…

Are you one of those people who can say with a fair bit of certainty that they’ll be single this Valentine’s Day? Are you (between you and me) feeling a bit miserable about it? I’m sure not, but just in case – here’s your Singles’ Valentine’s Day 101 to gear you up for your Totally-Irritating-And-Inconsequential Day.

Wake up and forget about it.
Chance upon this post and curse me for reminding you.
If you’re in India, thank God for not making it a holiday – for some less fortunate singles of the world it is.
Also if you’re in India, celebrate the fact that you don’t face any risk of being publicly beaten up by poli***l g**ns, as you’ll not be seen out celebrating the Day.
Guys – Repeat after me: “Box of chocolates – Rs. 500, flowers – Rs. 500 (sounds crazy but I checked), romantic dinner – Rs. 2000, saving Rs. 3000 just by being single – Priceless!”
Is feeling a bit lonely on one day too high a price to pay for 364 days of freedom? ;)
Derive happiness from the fact that happiness is an imaginary condition, attributed by you to the couples and by couples to you.
Being single is about perpetual hope. Being in a relationship is losing all hope. To most.
I guess it’s for this reason that cupid rhymes with stupid.
Write a letter to your ex (don’t send it). If you need any help with the choicest words, tell me. ;)
Remind yourself that you’re single ’cause you’ve not settled for just about anybody. (Conveniently disregard the possibility that nobody settled for you.)
OK it’s not for you. But so is Christmas to non-Christians who never miss their Christmas cakes anyway. Just use the excuse to buy yourself some real great chocolate!

Irrespective of whether you’re single or not, have a great weekend! ;)

20 More Unique Anniversary Ideas: Saucy Saturday Version

After yesterday’s 50 unique and creative anniversary ideas, I thought why not add some more spice to it and make it completely one-of-a-kind? So here are your bonus 20 special anniversary ideas after yesterday’s 50. I’m sure you’ll love them. ;)

Forget about the whole thing.
Remember it but pretend that you’ve forgotten all about it.
YouTube yourself announcing that you actually remember the anniversary.
YouTube her reaction when she realizes that you’ve forgotten about it.
Add the above two videos into a single video and YouTube it.
I realize you don’t have time for video editing and all that s**t. So forget about #5.
If you don’t have time, go for gifting flowers and other such dim-witted gestures.
But if you wanted dim-witted you wouldn’t be reading this, so on second thoughts – don’t trash #5.
At the start of the year, set a reminder in your phone for the anniversary.
Tell all your friends to do the same for the anniversary (yours, not theirs).
Tell them to call you whenever it goes off, just in case you haven’t found out (yet).
Make sure they don’t call your wife first.
YouTube yourself singing her favourite song.
Turn up the sex quotient by performing a dance routine from her favourite movie hero.
Don’t buy a traditional gift. Materialism is overrated. Go for thoughtful anniversary ideas instead.
Gift her a basket of all the ingredients for your favourite dish.
If the invitation to cook doesn’t seem super-sexy to her, throw her a surprise anniversary party. Invite all your guy friends.

Photo by lydia caps

Order her favourite chocolate cake. Hide some green chillies inside in a random fashion. She’d never forget the surprise.
If she’s already hinted that a much less creative, simple gift like a diamond would do, insist that you love her and would like to do something totally unique.
If she doesn’t appreciate your uniqueness…there’s always next year.

Of Men, Women, Taxis and Friday Evenings…

I know you have a lot of more important and fun stuff to do (sleeping, for example) on a Saturday morning than reading this post. Still I’m talking ’cause as I’m sure you know from your experience – shutting up is not a talent God equipped (most of) us women with.

However, shutting up is overrated.

It’s just that your brain often can’t cut through your tiny attention span and get itself around the complex and profound statements we tend to make. Some of you start comprehending their potential of changing (your) lives only after we’ve figured out and have started taking action on the fact that you haven’t listened.

Our superior intellectual capability, as evident in our analyses of the most of complex of things – like the characters of you, your mum, our three friends, and a lot of other extremely important people like maids, drivers and unknown women wearing prettier clothes than us – is beyond your comprehension. Add to that our artistic gift of showing the same thing in infinite number of different lights while repeating it to you as many times. All of that combined … no I really don’t blame your tiny brain for finding it too much to grasp at one go.

For example, yesterday when I started having this indispensible and world-changing conversation with my husband over Whatsapp, the poor thing lost all sense of direction completely. I hope you wouldn’t.

Of men, women, taxis and Friday evenings

Me (preparing to leave for home from work): Hey, do you know that finding a cab which would agree to take you to your destination is like finding a pebble in the ocean?

He: Yeah I know baby, I’m sorry. Have you started?

Me: First of all they insult me every day by showing about as much response to my prettiness (in deciding whether to refuse me) as a piece of furniture would…

He: Yeah I know baby, I’m sorry. Just get it done with, you know…

Me: Secondly they create opportunities out of thin air to yell at the person in front of them…

He: Ah…That’s familiar. We’re not talking about cabbies anymore… :D

Me: Looks like the objective of their life is to ruin your day…

He: Sometimes, yes. But common, not always…

Me: I’ve seldom met one who doesn’t make a thousand entirely unnecessary and unhelpful complaints about life, trying to hold you responsible for them. The traffic jam. The weather. The city.

He: Well I’ve got used to it after spending all this time together…

Me: Sometimes I feel interacting with them is a bigger challenge to your sanity than the traffic jam…

He: The traffic jam??? I say life!

Me: The biggest glitch with them is that they don’t need any provocation. You’d think that they’ll mind their own business if you mind yours…

He: But with experience I know that’s not gonna happen. So at the slightest sign of trouble I try to bring the situation under control with sweet words and kisses….

Me: What????

He: Oh you’re still talking about taxi drivers? I’m sorry I kind of drifted out of context…

19 Sure-fire Ways to Always Fight with Your Partner and Completely Piss Each Other Off

Remember my friend Amrita who made some one-of-a-kind drunken promises to her husband? Today she’s back with some pearls of wisdom on how she keeps the domestic war going in her family. While she’s talking from a married woman’s point of view, these methods will work like magic for married and unmarried couples alike.

Photo by Dr Winston O Boogie

So here goes…

Remember, it’s always the other person’s fault.
Whenever you’re arguing, always refer back to past fights.
Find ways of somehow blaming things on your partner’s parents. While having a fight disparage them every now and then.
Maintain a secret running list of his/her weak spots. Make careless jibes at them during fights.
If you’re running out of new issues, bring up the eternal and un-solvable ones.
For best effects, do this at a time when you’re both exhausted – like after work/school.
Don’t accept defeat. When you really can’t find any ways of countering the other person’s point repeat it, add a “but”, and add your own (even if entirely irrelevant).
No issue is too small to fight over.
Rigorously monitor their email, messages, Gtalk, Facebook chat, Whatsapp and everything else. This will keep them on their toes.
Try to avoid sex as much as possible. It never makes for a great mood for fighting.
Always interrupt them before they can finish a sentence. This will not only help you avoid listening to them, but also set the mood for a fresh fight.
Use your most normal tone to deliver your most sarcastic lines. This will drive them crazy.
When they come up with their best lines, pretend not to hear (play with your cell phone or something).
Focus on the big picture. Instead of limiting the argument to any issue at hand, link it with your partner’s inherently faulty nature.
Causally mention something provocative at a particularly special and romantic moment. This is known as the “ruin the moment” technique.
Whatever you do, don’t say the words, “I’m sorry.” They have the dangerous power of ending fights abruptly.
Don’t leave the room or take any sort of break during a quarrel. Be at it till you have made your point.
If your partner does something spineless like leaving the room, chase them around everywhere – including the bathroom – to prove that they’re wrong.
If you want to get creative, call up his/her dad at the height of a fight, and say, “This is what he/she is doing! Is this what you’ve taught him/her?” You will never forget your partner’s reaction to this.

Have a great weekend and happy fighting!

Mathematical Love Letter

Happy New Year everyone. I’m sure you enjoyed your New Year Eve’s parties.

In case you’re experiencing first-day-at-work-after-holidays blues, here’s a piquant mix of romance and laughter to fix you up.

Love in India reader and enthusiast Benny recently suggested that I create a romantic proposal using mathematical analogies. I loved the idea instantly. Here’s my attempt in response to Benny’s query.

My Dear Love,

The moment your eyes and mine fell in the same straight line, the tangent from your eyes became a perpendicular bisector of my heart.

Fully in line with Newton’s law of gravitational force, the force of attraction you’ve ever since applied on my heart is proportional to the product of your beauty and your intelligence. Surprisingly, the proportionality is not determined by a constant K (as told my Newton), but by a chaotic function f, the nature of which I’m yet to determine. I suspect it’s “you”.

Also unlike gravity, the force (as measured by the stress and strains my heart experiences) is proportional to the square of the distance between us, instead of being inversely proportional to it!

This is a phenomenon which deeply surprises me.

To summarize,

Newton’s Law of gravitation,

$mathematical love letter$ Photo: Wikipedia

Force experienced by my heart = f X your beauty X your intelligence X r²

r = Distance between you and me

As you’d notice, the proportionality here is not determined by a constant K (as told by Newton) but miraculously, by a chaotic function f, the nature of which I’m yet to determine. I’m calling it “you”.

As a natural result of this force, my heart’s gravitational acceleration should have been –

My heart’s acceleration =( f X your beauty X your intelligence X r²)/mass of my heart

You’d be surprised to know that ever since this force started working on my heart, the mass of my heart has started tending to zero! (The Brownian motions experienced by it leads me to this postulate, as only particles whose mass can be compared to the fluidic medium they’re in – which I assume is gaseous in the case of my heart – can experience it).

As I’m sure you’ve concluded, the acceleration would be tending to infinity!

However, the repelling magnetic field of your silence is applying an opposite force on my heart, thereby creating severe stress.

Believe me, my poor heart is made of brittle material, which is “characterized by the fact that rupture occurs without any noticeable prior change in the rate of elongation”*.

The only solution, as you can clearly see from the above equations, is to switch off your magnetic field by accepting my love, and to reduce the distance between you and me (r) to a fraction, such that my heart can gain some respite from the maddening force and can save itself from a sudden rupture.

Yours truly,

A Mathematical Brain Addled by Love

*Source: Wikipedia