SPRINGS OF JOY

Two springs had gone by that Pratik and his Beloved were together. Their love was an affection that everybody envied, praised and respected. Both were always there for the other…each loving the other more—everyday. After all, heavenly father can never leave his child destitute until he sends someone for his child—another child that is bestowed with His luck of love and blessings of eternal union. And when He sends his soul to another child, He rests behind with a smile and looks at the happy portrait of love, togetherness and joy each give to the other.

With each passing day, Pratik and his Beloved knew the other more—found the more of themselves. Both understood one another in silence. Words never were needed for them to communicate. They conversed with the other’s heart. In silence they’d whisper I Love You My Love. When they’d say so, they would gently smile and eyes would fill with joyous tears.

Words were easy but they were insufficient when Pratik and his Beloved attempted to converse. As a result, they spoke in silences—as if words would fade with the wind and never reach the other’s heart. Each were always there for the other, loved as much as they could—with all their hearts. Neither knew if they loved less or more. Yet, in silent nights when the stars twinkled, each wondered if they loved the other less. In turn, every following day had more to offer—more love, more affection, care and togetherness. Eventually, words would shy away not just because they were insufficient to express what both had to say, but also because they would disappear before it reached the other’s ears.

Indeed, once in a while, they would have small fits which would disappear like a gust of wind—go the way it came.

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” Beloved would say at times by curling her lower lips in false anger and make faces. Pratik would look at her—with those loving but penetrating eyes and softly say with a smile “Really?” and 

stare at her.

She’d turn away from the eyes—that loving but searching eyes, that mystic and penetrating eyes which she had never felt until three springs. When those eyes fell upon her, she would turn away.

“Really Beloved, are you not talking to me anymore?” Pratik would again turn towards her—hold her shoulders and look into her eyes and ask—softly—“Are you not talking to me anymore?” Then, her eyes would moisten and she’d hug him tight and say, “Who said I’m not talking to you? How can I not talk with you? I love you so much my Love,” and Pratik would hold her back, kiss her head and whisper back, “I love you too,” and feel the Sun’s warmth in his heart and smile.

From above the clouds, the Heavenly Father would smile and his eyes would moisten with joy. A tiny drop of tear rolled down His cheeks and fell down the cloud causing rain of joy…

Seeing the rain, Beloved pushed Pratik and ran to the garden and felt the third year’s first rain on the same day as two bygone years.

“It’s the same day again. I love you Pratik” she spoke out loud—only to make sure that her words would reach up to him.

“I love you too My Angel, and yes, it is the same day,” Pratik whispered back with a smile and looked towards the cloud and said, “Thank you God for your gift”.