I am a farmer, a peasant. You the city bred also identify me as a member of the proletariat class. Valentine day is approaching and I have my plans for the day too. You may think what a farmer has to do with Valentine day. But tell me is my heart different from your? Are my emotions different from yours? I am the son of the soil, the same soil which gave birth to you. The marketing experts are devising more ways to pander you. They seem to have forgotten my existence. But still I have my plans.
I will go to the fields with my bullock cart. However I will not spend my entire day working hard like other days. I will do only those tasks which are absolutely essential like watering the field and feeding the cattle. Having done that I will yoke my bullock to the cart and go for the joy ride.
I am sure my beloved must be waiting for me near the Hanuman temple at the outskirts of the village. She will be looking as resplendent as ever. She will not be able to climb into the cart. I will hold her hand tightly and lift her into the cart. I will be able to feel her smooth skin and hear the clinking of her bangles. She will blush as I will hold her hand deliberately for time more than that required to fetch her into the cart.
Only both of us in the ranking cart. The only communication between us would be the silence. This solitude is difficult to get. I don't remember when was the last time that we were alone. The bullock know their way very well. They will take us to the plateau which offers picturesque view of the valleys. Seeing the setting sun we will weave the dreams of our future. The sky will be full of various tints. We will borrow some of them and colour our dreams.
Soon it will be dark and she will feel cold. I will embrace her tightly with my worked out arms and she will feel comforted. She would have rested her head on my chest and I would be able to feel her heavy breathing.
After some time I will light the hearth and roast sweet potatoes for her. She has never tasted food cooked by a man. I want to please her with my little culinary skills. I am sure she will love whatever I will be able to cook. She will be happy to see that behind this masculine facade of the man there exists a simple person who loves her and who cares for her.