Talking about that shit called Love. I won’t talk much about it anymore. Already shared a lot on my Facebook and Twitter. We authors cannot write about someone unless they are out of our lives. But this  man is a bit of exception. He found me on Twitter, expressed his crush, said “I love you” asked me out all in full public view on Twitter. After our first date, he put up a lovely video he made on me on his Facebook and Instagram. Very public with all the affection, something I always wanted.

For a while we became a sensation, like one of those celebrity couples from Bollywood. For months the right wing trolls on Twitter had called me ugly, so ugly that no man would ever fuck me, no man would even ever send me rape threats (right wing’s logic being rape has something to do with beauty) and yet they failed to stop my scathing criticism of Modi. Plus, I found a man. This man of all people. This insanely good looking man. Obviously the trolls don’t like it and showered choicest abuse on that photo I posted (originally posted by him on his Instagram).

My daily updates on Facebook about finding mushy love at this age intrigued one of the top female journalist from Network 18, Manisha Pandey who asked for a very candid interview. To her I opened up like never before, speaking about my childhood body image issues, my longing for a relationship, my birthmark. She asked me the kind of question I haven’t even addressed in my own blog and the result is a deeply moving interview, the type people hardly find in India, and it is breaking the internet since last few days. Within days, I got hundreds of friend requests, fans, followers, all showering overwhelming words of appreciation for me.

Read 40 साल तक सब उसे बदसूरत कहते रहे और फिर एक दिन…When Sanjukta Basu Found Love

The way I found love and grabbed it with two hands without wasting a minute, the whirlwind of romance gave hopes to hundreds of single woman who had stopped believing in love. People are simply inspired by the power of love.

jyoti yadav fb post about me

But, in the end there is always a ‘but’ isn’t there? My tomorrow has never been faithful to my today. And so I live in the yesterday, looking at the rear view mirror. No matter what happens tomorrow, I keep reminding myself, that shit really did happen yesterday.

“Objects on the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are,” sang Meatloaf.