MEMORIES OF TOGETHERNESS

Dear Beloved,

It has been long that we last met and it is now that I have learnt that Distance is more than eight letter word. It is the departure, a journey of separation which we fight to realize…a journey of a lonesome walk…a longing of seeing the other and a piercing realization of when we’ll meet…

In this foreign land, Beloved, I have become a lonely soul amidst the maddening chaos of greed and low morale. Each day, I think of you, the moments we shared runs across my mind like the soft breeze that cajoles my senses. I close my eyes. With each moments that I recall, I hear my name from your voice. I smile and then, open my eyes—only to wake up left alone. The breeze is long gone and the scorching heat takes away my energy, save the memories that I hold onto….the memories of us Beloved…memories of you.

And in this foreign land, Dear Beloved, I savor our moments, cherish your picture and smile in delight. While distance hurts the most when I recall of the journey that I have to travel to be in your arms…my heaven, I have, nonetheless, learnt how much I love you…how much I miss you, and how much I long for you…It is in these times that I wish I were a bird my Beloved…a free bird that could fly to its will…to its home at the end of the day despite the hardship he goes through in the day. Indeed, dreams are wonderful to dream about, especially when they are of thoughts that bring a smile on your face accelerate the beating heart. Yet, dreams also let you down when you wake up…when you know that while you were together in your dream, you wake up lonely—alone.

MOMENTS. MEMORIES. These two words keep me going on in your absence. MOMENTS we held each other in arms, those moments that we kissed, and moments when I rested my head on your lap and forgot the world around me…that very moment when I realized my heaven was when I closed my eyes and rested my head on your lap while you caressed my hair…

MEMORIES…those fond recalling of the moments that comes from our hearts and those that dances in our eyes... memories that makes me smile and memories that makes me long for your presence in joy…and memories….that once again echoes my longing…my loneliness.

Both knew that we’d be bidding one another a farewell for two years. We had talked about it for long and said, “Its only two years. It will pass as gently as it came.” But two months away from you, My Beloved, I now realize that two years of distance won’t pass as we thought it would. But Beloved, aren’t these the times that test our love and strength? Aren’t times like these that makes love grow fonder and dearer?

In this distance, I have realized how much I have had been dependent on you. I’ve realized how restless I become when I’m not with you…it has taught me why I cannot live without you and continually reminds me of how much I love you..

Dear Beloved, pages could take eternity to fill my aching heart but I am saving words and emotions. 

Each day, I love you, truly, madly, deeply,

Loving you forever and more,

Holding on to the memories...

Pratik

Any Other Name Would Smell As Sweet*

“Why don’t you call me by my name,” Beloved one day asked all of a sudden to Pratik. It was a question he had no hint of. It also was a question that he never had an answer to. He looked into her eyes and just smiled, hoping that the question would go as it came, which, however, did not.

“Don’t just smile Pratik. Tell me, why you don’t call me by my name,” Beloved queried longing to hear for an answer.

“What is your name though,” Pratik banteringly said as he came close. Beloved instantly pushed him aside, looked other way and made an adoring face of looking mean—a mixture of small disappointment for an unexpected joke when she was serious, and of a wait when Pratik would turn her around, smile and answer.

“Tell me Beloved, what is your name,” Pratik said with a smile, and his Beloved further walked away.

“I don’t know,” she snapped back and sat on a sofa across the distance.

“When you don’t know your name, how would I know your name,” Pratik said teasingly.

“That is so rude Pratik. I’m not talking to you. Not talking to you until you tell me my name,” his Beloved replied, added, “…and yes, I do know my name.”

While Pratik always loved her Beloved, he sometimes longed to tease her and see her adoring mean face once in a while, and today was one of those moments. However, while he wished to see her mean face once in a while, he always kept it short because he couldn’t see her look mean for a long time because he was not accustomed to it. He then walked to her, and held her from behind…rested his chin on her shoulders…Beloved, smiled, held his hands and asked again, pretending to be mean, when she wasn’t, “So tell me now, why don’t you call me by my name Pratik?”

“You don’t have a name my Beloved because you are my Beloved,” Pratik said as he held her from behind. Beloved smiled and queried, “And why am I your Beloved?”

“You’re my Beloved because you are my Beloved, and because you are dear to me. Beloved because I love you. I have no answers to the whys and hows Dear because these are questions that I never have answers to. It is not that I have not tried to search and look for the answers. I have quested endlessly—quests that all ended futile…quests that all led me to you without an answer.” Pratik said.

“You should have told me about the quest Pratik. I would have helped you to find the answers,” Beloved turned towards Pratik, stretched her hands on his shoulders and said with a smile, a small curled stretch of lips. This was the smile that escalated Pratik’s joy…the smile that further deepened his love, and it was a holy smile—a smile that he could see only on moments like this.

“No Beloved. I did fail to find my answers but I did not fail to find my destiny. All of my quests led to you my Beloved and your acceptance was my answer to all those questions that I asked for and to all those questions that I failed to ask for. You were, are and will always be my greatest gift,” Pratik said.

As Beloved heard those words, her eyes moistened and she held him close and whispered, “I love you Pratik…I love you very much.”

“I love you too my Beloved…I love you forever and more.”

As they held the other, Beloved, without seeking an answer asked, “Then what is my name Pratik?”  

“For me, your name is Beloved, my Beloved. And besides, what’s in a name Beloved when you know that ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’”.

Upon hearing the words, Beloved gently kissed Pratik’s lips and he smiled…held her close and said within him, “I love you my Beloved, and I’ll always do. I love you forever and more.” He then rose his hands to his eyes and gently wiped those falling tears.

*(The title comes from William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet’s Act II, Scene II)

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”.