The effects of Valentine’s Day are apparent in many ways -- the sudden spurt in demand and equally dramatic shortage of red roses in the market being one. Young people swarm malls, multiplexes, restaurants and parks. [break]
Commercial forces, adept at exploiting and commodifying human sentiments, aggressively glamorize the idea of expressing love and spending time with loved ones.
A typical Valentine’s Day plan of well-heeled city couples, for example, would look something like this: lunch at an upscale restaurant, movie at a multiplex, a candlelit dinner at a cozy diner with a dramatic moment, in between, for presenting gifts. As for those who are short of funds, they can cheer themselves up with a visit to Godavari or one of the Durbar Squares.
To me, the idea of a couple spending time together on Valentine’s Day makes no more sense than doing so on any normal days. And I find the notion that somehow it is the most suitable day to express your feeling totally misplaced. Some people even wait with baited breath for the day to arrive.
Even more presumptuous is the expectation that if you propose on this day, you’d be spared the bummer, that is, a rejection. Many, including some friends I know of from my college days, feel empowered by the pervasive aura of romance to open their hearts to someone they love, a task they’d find impossible on other days.
This romantic whimsy is fed by the myths associated with Cupid, the Roman god of love and the most recognized symbol during the Valentine’s Day.
He is often depicted as a mischievous, winged child whose arrows pierce the hearts of his victims, causing them to fall in love, one description of Cupid says.
Yet others describe Cupid as one who likes to shoot his magical arrows, dipped in love potion, at people to make them fall in love. It is said that if you are struck by his arrow, you’ll madly fall in love with the next person you meet.
Bolstered by such mythos, the whole Valentine’s Day hoopla creates a misplaced aspiration in the ones who hope to propose to a prospective lover or the singles who hang around malls and multiplexes hoping the Cupid to play the trick for them.
I have been a witness to a lot of proposals, sometimes entreaties made falling on one’s knees, being turned down at my college, at malls, at restaurants and even in an open marketplace.
I am no mathematician, but I bet if you draw a Valentine’s Cupid Chart -- just to put things in perspective -- you’ll see a lot of arrows missing their targets. That’s because many proposals are nothing but a shot in the dark. In fact, many wander so off the mark that they could not even be considered fit to be included in the chart. And then there are others who fall victim to a preemptive strike by their rivals, meaning somebody else makes the move while they are trying to figure out how or whether to propose.
Estimated breakdown of a Valentine’s Cupid Chart for Kathmandu, in percentage
Of the total strikes:
70 Off the mark
20 Victims of preemptive strike
10 On the mark
An interpretation Valentine’s Cupid Chart:
A remarkable surge in the number of strikes (read proposals) compared to other days. But considering the number of attempts, the arrows that managed to hit home are abysmally low.
Conclusion:
Boys and girls, don’t let Cupid down by rushing into things.
Know thy target well before you strike.
The writer is a copy editor at Republica. amendrapokharel@gmail.com
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