The Rigours of Romance

Although the poets would have us believe it's in spring that a young man's fancy turns lightly to love, for Dhaka Romeos, winter seems to be the season of preference. Perhaps that isn't surprising, given that the rest of the year the weather can make it difficult to summon up enough energy to play the mating game (or for that matter, any other kind of game)!
My friend Khaleda was buying flowers a few months ago, when she encountered two wannabe players in quick succession. The first was outside the flower shop - and as he walked very slowly past, he said (in a long-drawn out, possibly poetically-inclined rapture), "Someone who doesn't like flowers, would even be capable of murdering a fellow human being!" ("Je phool bhalobashey na, shey manusho khoon kortey parey"). Just why he thought this would endear him to a woman buying flowers wasn't quite clear to either Khaleda or me. After all, sensitivity and murder don't really go hand in hand, and the mention of the latter is hardly useful in “setting the mood” for love to bloom!
The second chap, who called out to her as she rode past in a rickshaw carrying her flowers, did slightly better. He said, "Fooler pashey beauty-full", which roughly translates as "something beautiful sitting next to flowers" - the play here being on "phool/fool" (i.e. flower) and "beauty-full" (i.e. beautiful). But I have to say that I think these guys, promising as they are (!), might just have to do a teeny bit more work on their pickup lines...
Mind you, romance can raise its head in the most unexpected places - even in examination halls!A friend of mine, Dola, told me about a boy and girl sitting in front of her during her first year exams. They both completed their papers in silence and got up to submit their answer sheets. The invigilator, however, refused to take the documents, telling them that it wasn't time yet and that they needed to wait for the bell before handing in their sheets. The two of them sat quietly for a while, but started whispering soon thereafter, ignoring the teacher's reprimands.

Irritated, the teacher took their answer sheets away and sent them out before the bell rang to signal the end of the examination. Dola later learned from a mutual friend that they were a couple. And since their parents had limited the time that they could spend together during the examination period (when they were supposed to be studying), they were determined to make the most of what little time was available to them - even if it was in the exam hall!  
On another occasion, a friend of mine was sitting for her physiotherapy finals, when two of the students - a couple called Russell and Priya - were repeatedly reprimanded by the invigilator for cheating. But nothing he said made any impression on them, and Russell continued ferociously copying everything he needed from Priya's answer sheet.
Finally, in a desperate attempt to shame them into stopping, the invigilator referred to their inseparable co-cheater status with awful sarcasm, saying "Apnara ki taholey husband-wife?!?!" ("Are you husband and wife then?!?!"). After all, it was clearly evident that none of his efforts were sufficient to keep them apart. Without missing a beat, Russell responded, "Yes." So perhaps then, "LOVE IS...never having to take an exam on your own again..."?!
Not that the path of romance always runs so smoothly. For instance, sometimes the planned self-introduction doesn't go quite as planned. My friend Polly was at Kathmandu airport, waiting to catch a flight back to Dhaka, when she found out that the flight was delayed. Typically for Biman, it was not felt that passengers needed to know when the revised flight time might be - or for that matter,be provided with any other information whatsoever! After a few hours, they were offered some basic refreshments, which included some snacks and a piece of cake. Polly ate her snack, but left her cake untouched on the plate.
A young man, who had been eyeing her for some time (indeed, he had asked a couple she'd been chatting with earlier -that too, well within earshot - who she was), walked up to her with studied casualness. As an opening gambit, he said, in a friendly and somewhat flirtatious tone, “Cake-ta ki dosh korlo?" ("What did the cake do to deserve such a rejection?")
Not wanting to be actively rude, Polly replied, "Nothing, I just didn't feel like eating it."Clearly seeing her response as some form of encouragement, the young man gestured towards two older men sitting some distance away, who were both dressed conservatively and wore prayer caps. "Perhaps you should take your scarf and cover your head," he suggested, "They might be offended otherwise."
His unsolicited advice on how to dress spelled immediate doom for his (already non-existent) chances of chatting her up. "It seems to me that my uncovered head is bothering you more than it's bothering them!" Polly responded smartly, before turning on her heel and walking off. Whether or not someone chooses to cover her head cannot be the business of some random passerby, especially when he had in any case been trying to flirt with that person a few minutes earlier (where was his piety then?)!
So I suggested - for good measure - that next time someone has the nerve to offer this kind of obnoxious "advice" to Polly, she should just say that she already regrets not having brought along a headscarf. Because that way she could just gag anyone who has the nerve to offer unsolicited and unwelcome advice to her…