Updated: Aug 7, 2018
That fateful night, the lucky ones were in their cozy, warm beds, cuddling or even better, having sex with their significant others. The not so lucky ones were busy cursing the entire hooplah surrounding this biased, anti-single 'Day of Romance' i.e. Valentines Day. And, where was I? I was literally freezing to death, at the North Pole.
I am not even exaggerating anything right now.
I was in Lapland. Shivering in -30 degrees Celsius. Standing in knee deep snow, wearing a snow suit which made me look like a walking, talking ball. *I have a picture too but I won't post it for obvious reasons*
The wind was brutal and I for one was patiently waiting for my extremely shy date to serenade me with her presence. Before you jump to any funny conclusions, let me burst your bubble. I was out Aurora Hunting that night, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive Northern Lights, waiting for her to start dancing and light up the sky.
She had been a childhood dream after all. I had always been enchanted by the idea that she comes and goes of her own free will, and you can chase her all night long, if you want to, but she will only bless you with her company if she wants to. Sometimes she will just dance in the background and sometimes, she will dance up a storm, an Aurora Storm.
I was accompanied by Alex, the Editor in Chief of the ‘All About Lapland’ magazine, who some say is the best Aurora Hunter in the whole of Lapland. I will gladly agree with them.
*He made me aurora cookies and the tastiest salmon sandwich I have ever had. What more can one ask for?*
But the wait was long and tough, we climbed a little hill only to encounter cloudy weather. Drove a 100 miles to a better weather location, only to get stuck in a snow storm. Saint Valentine was gleefully fucking our case up it seemed. And, just when we were about to give up and call it a night, Alex suggested a place another 100 miles away, it was worth a shot he said. As luck would have it, the hunter had hit a bulls eye, the chase was almost over.
We got out of the car and walked towards a frozen river bank, lit a fire and like an excited puppy, I started scanning the sky to look for the magical blue/green/yellow/purplish lights which had been haunting me since I was 10. I could see a faint, white light in the background and even though Alex exclaimed in Barney Stinson’s signature style, ‘Wait for it!’, I had begun to worry that this would be it and what if the pictures/video footage were an overtly exaggerated lie?
Just as I was about to lose hope again, something happened, maybe Saint Valentine took pity on the solo Indian traveler and was sad to see her disappointed, or maybe I am a very lucky bitch, but at that very moment, she danced. Not as brightly colored as I had always imagined her to be but ethereal nevertheless. There she was, dancing coyly, disappearing sometimes, coming back with a roar the next moment.
It all happened so quickly and both of us were so mesmerized that by the time we both reached for our cameras, it was almost over.
We did end up taking a few pictures but no one wanted to take their eyes off the sky, even for a moment.
She stayed back, seducing us with her dance, long enough for it to be memorable but not long enough for us to be satisfied.
No words were exchanged till then, only smiles.
That Valentines, luckily, I didn't freezing to death and the cupid did strike, for Alex, me and Aurora Borealis, the seductive Northern Lights.