There I was, boarding a train on the day lovers consider special filled with the blooming hope that large scale celebration of love in global proportions will somehow cause the very atmosphere to be so infused with the romantic spirit that it would prove to be all but impossible that I will find myself not sharing my cabin in the train with a ravishing coy charming single female. By the time the first hour had passed however it dawned upon me with unusual distinctness just how possible the impossible can actually be. For to my right sat a slumbering sardar whose stupendous snores seemed to provide additional forward momentum to the train. Opposite him sat a middle aged gentleman who seemed to have only recently discovered the joy of leering at lurid pictures of scantily clad women in seedy magazines. To my left sat a government servant with an iPod firmly lodged in his ears and completely oblivious to the strange disturbing sounds that were emanating from his person apparently in tune with some melody that only he was privy to. In their midst sat the glum author of this post who before quietly crawling up to his berth spent a solemn moment in silent wonder of what the good saint Valentine must have in truth perpetrated to produce an effect of such undiluted strangeness upon circumstances long long after a tear was shed and a sermon was said upon his grave!