You see, sometimes, it is not enough that you fall in love; sometimes, it takes more than an “I love you” to convince the other person that the “falling into love” part is genuine. [break]
You got to know the rhetoric of romance. For many romancers, and I am trying to be modest here, this blog-post might be what “The Communist Manifesto” is to communists (or what it used to be). Try to read the blog with a pinch of salt dipped in hot chocolate with fluffy marshmallows.
The Bollywood tunes: Learn to time your conversations to the Bollywood tunes; the eternal melodies of the lovers who have found solace in surrendering to the souls in “lurrv”. Every time the girl turns her head to look at you, act like a hopeless actor who might as well have had a seizure of some sort, to convince the girl that you have lost it all. The very act of insanity will definitely drive the girl equally crazy; but equally crazily in love with you. The trick is to make it look original.
The singing of the romantic songs, the playing of the guitar, the humming of the tunes; it all has to make the girl feel like the world is full of fluffy pink marshmallows. True.
The blooming flowers: No matter how weak the economy of the country is, the girl should never get a clue of this; the only way to do it is to keep a constant supply of flowers.
Name it, chrysanthemum, geranium, jasmine, orchid, rose, sunflower, the tiny little lavender ones, lilies; and sometimes, in situations of emergency: all of these at the same time.
You ask: where the heck do I get the money from? Well, did you ask me before you fell for the girl? But that would be a mean response; I would say, why not start up a small entrepreneurial flower shop; that way, you can always be prepared and at the same time, make some decent money.
The barging bags of gifts: The convention of romance is predominantly female oriented; thus, my blog might seem slightly biased but I am merely following the popular rhetoric; and in the popular rhetoric; it is the girl who gets the gifts (see how it alliterates!) and the boy who buys them.
Feminists might probably kill me for saying this; but I am increasingly finding this phenomenon to be true. Of course, the boy gets occasional show of affection through gifts, but have you ever, ever, ever heard of a boy being showered with gifts? Now, now, let’s not get carried away.
The boy showers the gift over the girl. I am sure in the age of water scarcity; the showering part is much appreciated.
The box of chocolate: Not “a” box of chocolate; it is “the” box of chocolate; the infamous, the notorious box of chocolate. It requires no introduction; it can be found in every alleyway, in every galli, in every freaking corner; it stares at you, with its creamy-éclair filled, waffle-puffed eyes; begging to be bought.
Your limbs refuse to listen to the reasonable brain; it tells you to “buy it”, “buy it”, and “buy it”: the chanting mantra which induces you into a deep slumber of love.
So here it is: all bare and square – the rhetoric of romance – do not try this at home.
For more on Sisakalam, visit sisakalam.wordpress.com
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