Love Spells for the Mature Woman

Love Spells for the Mature Woman

One sees face creams and lotions advertised for the ‘mature’ woman. They promise to bring back that youthful glow and tautness. I doubt if they can but there’s no harm in trying and hope is a good feeling to nurture. But love for the mature woman? Well, my lovelies, that’s what the creams and lotions were for in the first place. Or didn’t you guess? She’ll look so good that the desired male will crawl into her clutches. And now for the love spell !

I’ve often written tongue in cheek about love spells in my books—waiting to see the reactions. I keep hoping the fair sex will show empowerment and laugh the spells away, push them to one side and sneer at my impudence.
But alas! They don’t. They fall hook, line and sinker into the trap.
I can understand it when the pyts---that’s the pretty young things, the foolish little hopefuls,  pine for lost boy friends and yearn for the no-gooder who has ditched them. After all, give the young things time to learn and surely one day they will grow up.

But what about the older, experienced, much married matron who decides to have a secret fling and wants love spells from me? She’ll sidle up to me at some public event  and whisper to me how much she admires me and my books. She’ll talk of the depth and truth in what I say. And then, after a few false starts she’ll dive into the subject she has been hiding in her ample bosom. Love spells! Can she see me privately? Can I provide her with some? I tell her as kindly as is possible for me, that I don’t really work with love spells-----leave alone provide them. I don’t believe in love spells or in other spells for that matter. Yes, sounds and words and certain juxtapositions of these have been used as mantras and chants from very ancient times---but that is a different matter altogether. But a few lines of rhyme strung together will not bring the desired one. Inner strength is what she should strive for. Alas! She refuses to believe me. She thinks I want to keep the goodies for myself. She is obviously desperate. I turn away to talk to someone else and she walks away in a huff.

Tells one a lot about the emancipated Indian woman. Where is her independence? Her backbone? Does she still depend on what I consider hocus-pocus to bring her what she considers desirable? Or is our society picking up the wrong values from the west? Family life is no longer based on values. It’s a plastic, cosmetic based world out there. The inner beauty has vanished. No longer needed. It’s a pity.