Between Truth and Meaning
It was the fourteenth of February, 1996, and I did not call my fiancée. That is the whole fact. It fits in a single sentence, and it would fit in a ledger, a diary or a court record. The phone stayed quiet. Nothing else happened, at least not on my side. And yet the same quietness carried two entirely different messages, depending on who was listening to it. For me, it was nothing. It was not a decision or a slight. I had been engaged only since late January, and it was still very early days. Having studied in Sainik School, I was not even familiar with the concept of Valentine's Day. More than that, it was the sum of everything I had lived until then, and nothing in that life had taught me that a square on the calendar could hold a promise. I did not call for the same reason I did not announce the sunrise. The day was simply a day. For quite a number of years, I did not have that appreciation. For my fiancée at the time, and now my wife, it was unsettling. She did not need flowe...