His vibrating cellphone under the pillow blurred his dreams and woke him into the reality. The scratched screen blinked madly and revealed 3:51 A.M.

It was time.

He rubbed his eyes, exited his comforter with much effort, and placed his feet on the floor below with a quick swinging motion to jolt himself up. The floor felt cold, even through his woolen socks. Grimacing, he threw back a handful of hair that blocked his vision and staggered towards the door.

Outside, the hostel's corridor was desolate with most of the hostelers deep in sleep with their rooms locked and lights off. Some of the rooms were still lit as their doors were lined with yellow light, pushing itself out in the dark night. Newspapers, soda cans swept the corridor that led to the bathroom. He almost made his mind to go back at once and rest a bit more. He finished on phone last night around 2 A:M. He needed more sleep.

But no, he went on. He began with brushing. And brushed twice. It mattered. There was no hot water for him to take a bath in this cold weather. He could try to check the geysers on other floors of the hostel but he was getting late. It was 4:20 A:M and the direct bus to his destination left in a couple of minutes from now. And cold water, was what, he poured on his bare chest.

Carefully checking around four times that he had picked all the packages that he need to carry with him, he bolted his door and nearly ran to the hostel's exit. The guard lay snoring on his seat and took no notice as a shadow passed into the night.

There was no scope for a rickshaw and he had to trot all the way from his hostel to the main gate of his university. To avoid the cold, he had warped his long shawl about his nimble body. The wind flapped and slapped the shawl as he raced against time to make it to the exit. Inside, he wore the only set of clothes he believed to be good.

Presently, the darkness began to lighten up and this made the guards at the main gate witness the innocent face that was shelled in a shawl. They allowed him to exit after eying him hair to toenail. It was too early again to have a rickshaw or auto to reach the bus-stand. Consequently, he ended up half way trotting and half way hitchhiking a ride on a bicycle. The bus started about a minute after he entered it, exhausted. Out of breath and with a face gushed with hot blood, he settled in a corner seat and wrapped his shawl about his head.

Four hours later on reaching his destination city, he found himself texting her, trying to find in what section of the bus-stand she stood waiting. Calls were expensive, his balance never stayed with him too long. But he didn't have to wait for her reply too long. He found her face amidst the milling crowd. An anticipation, an eagerness was painted between her solemn eyes.

He stopped in front of her, stood foolishly there, failing to hide a bunch of red roses behind his back, waiting for her to look back. A moment later, she saw him too and a light spread across her cheeks as her lips began to tremble into a smile. Forgetting everything else about, she came running towards him and collapsed in his arms.

His first Valentine's day, 3 years back, didn't go too bad. Every moment, hug, and kiss is a memory etched in stone, till date.

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Current Book: "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce
Current Music: "Valentine's Day" by Linkin Park