When Archie’s Brought February to Life: Valentine’s Day in India
Before the malls were washed in red,
Before long-stemmed roses ruled the street,
Love in India moved like a secret—
In passing glances, shy and discreet.
It lived in library silence,
In shared umbrellas in sudden rain,
In letters never truly posted,
In joy half-shadowed by restraint and pain.
Then one February, something shifted.
A shop window blushed in pink—
Satin hearts and silver ribbons
Dared the hesitant heart to think.
Archies stood glowing under soft-lit glass,
Not loud, not grand, yet quietly bold;
And in its aisles, a generation
Found the courage it could not hold.
Glass shelves bloomed with velvet bears,
With porcelain smiles and crimson thread;
Cards that said what lips rehearsed
But fear had left unsaid.
Promises pressed in printed ink,
Golden fonts on paper lace—
Feelings that had wandered homeless
Finally found a resting place.
In the hum of markets old and new,
Between agarbatti smoke and tea-stall steam,
Young hearts lingered longer there
Than custom, culture, or caution deemed.
A folded card. A trembling hand.
A name traced slow, as if in prayer.
For many, bravery first arrived
Sealed inside an envelope of care.
February fourteenth—once unfamiliar—
Began to glow in scarlet light;
College gates and city squares
Softened at the fall of night.
It was no borrowed Western whisper,
No fleeting trend from far away—
It mingled with filmi daydreams,
With stolen moments after class each day.
From Delhi’s restless evening rush
To small-town lanes where gossip grew,
Love stepped out from hiding places
And learned to stand in open view.
Archies did more than sell a card that year—
It sold permission to feel aloud;
To choose a rose, to risk a no,
To stand uncertain, yet unbowed.
Years have turned. The screens now glow.
Confessions fly in typed replies.
Hearts blink red in digital threads;
Goodbyes dissolve without goodbyes.
Yet somewhere in a wooden drawer
Lies a card with fading shine—
Edges curled, its glitter gone,
But still it keeps a pulse in time.
Open it gently. You may still hear
That first brave sentence, soft and true—
“I choose you,” in simple script,
Spoken when saying so was new.
For once, a card could hold a universe.
For once, love did not have to hide.
And February, blushing in pink and red,
Found a home on our side.
