I am brown, female, 18 and single. So far so good. I also haven't got a Valentine for February the 14th. And have neither prospects nor intentions of getting myself one. Not so good? This statement is not inspired by the sour grapes theory, believe me. At this juncture, I expect to be pinned down on a wax-filled dissecting tray (the way we used to dissect those helpless cockroaches in the biology class), and be cut up in colourful vivisection and examined carefully by the world with its Valentine in tow.

I expect to have amazed eyes regard me as a monstrous wonder of the modern world. The silent astonishment of my 'dissectors' punctuated by bitchy-sweet whispers of pseudo pity-"The poor, poor girl"... "I wonder what's wrong with her"... "She must be one of those behenji types, you know" and so on. For, whichever wretched creature hasn't got a Valentine this V-day (as everyone seems to be calling it-like D-day), has signed her/his acceptance slip as an "official object of ridicule and even pity" in today's times of official everything.

To say that I don't understand, leave alone control this chaos churning around me, climaxing on the 14th of February, would be a gross understatement. As the sight of grotesque hearts of all sizes floating around me, pumping red paint rather than blood, fills me with indescribable nausea, my compatriots lead me to believe that I am a case study, fit for a psychiatrist's couch-at least at par with Freud. "You're not a normal person," they chime in chorus.

But, why keep talking about myself? With due apologies, I shift my zoom lens to focus on other people. The very 'normal' young people around me.

There is a veritable countdown going on with Zero Hour being V-day. The hot topics on wavelengths around me are queries relating to how many cards one has bought? What clothes are to be kept in readiness? Has he ordered the roses at the florists? Has she got the nail-polish matching her lipstick? Have they made advance reservations at the movie hall and restaurant?... ad nauseum. The as yet unproposed-to-females wander about distraught, plucking the petals of some unlucky flower, murmuring "Will he, won't he...".The males who are being kept in suspended animation by their lady loves go around looking very preoccupied. It seems that almost everyone has found their someone special in life-if only for the next week or so.

Newspapers, radio channels, gift shops, restaurants and even jewellery brands seem to have jumped onto the V-day bandwagon. They are, or it seems to me, taking us shortsighted youth for a rollercoaster ride which might turn our insides upside-down. Gift shops offer discounts on gifts for your special person. Restaurants offer everything from bargain prices and romantic settings to exotically christened dishes (Cupid Cakes and Romeo Rotis to name a few), and serenade your beloved with violins as you whisper sweet nothings to each other. Radio channels offer to take couples for helicopter rides to the Taj. Newspapers offer to print your lovey, dovey Valentine messages with the bargain offer of sending a 'romantic gift' to your true love-roses, chocolates, cards-the V-day masala mix. All for what? Why, just for a wad of hard cash, silly. But then, as everyone argues so outspokenly, what is money next to V-day and love? Why, nothing at all!

It seems to me that all this hype is because of the newly discovered commercial value of

V-day. Or more likely, this is the latest commercially viable commodity in the consumerist market of today. Three to four years ago, the 14th of February used to come and go just like any other day, without as much as a murmur. But now we are rushing towards the 21st century. Our commercial houses have woken up to the saleability of V-day and are all geared up to make a fat profit out of it. They seem to be enjoying catering to a gullible crowd, who are ready to swallow anything and everything (price tags notwithstanding), if they are made to feel that everyone who is someone is also doing it. It is this feeling of being 'in' they crave for. The feeling which is so cleverly apparent in the ads showcasing V-day. Also, that feeling of being at par with their western counterparts satisfies the teenagers who want everything ranging from sexy love songs to designer jewellery made under the V-day tag.

The ad lines generally use the 'do this or be left out' message to influence these impressionable people. The ads imply that people who do not celebrate V-day, the company's way, do not belong to the intelligent, successful, classy and hip crowd. People seem to have fallen flat for this gimmick which encourages them to do what, seemingly, a thousand others are doing. These thousand others being the accepted 'up there' crowd. What was once a Western social custom has now become part and parcel of Indian life, along with the likes of Fathers Day and Mothers Day, which have also been adapted as the new Indian festivals. But then, as the great Indian market articulately argues, isn't this a sign of a truly cosmopolitan society?

When someone asked me, "What are you planning for V-day this year?" I countered, "Planning to stay sane like every year; how about you?"

And so, the evening of 14th February will see me stretched out on my bed, my faithful book to hand as my date for the evening, a packet of glucose biscuits as a substitute for liqueur chocolates and my stereo as the serenading stradivarius, while everyone around me celebrates V-day their own way. As long as they are happy, who cares? And as long as I am happy, who cares whether or not I have a Valentine?

I only hope that with so much love and goodwill in the air, the newspapers are not filled with the usual mix-eve-teasing, rape, dowry deaths, bride burning and the like. That would be a real Valentine's Day celebration. ¨

(Suruchi had mailed her piece too late for publication last Feb. It was good, so we saved it up for this year's Feb issue to generate a little goodnatured steam! -Ed)