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   On the streets of the old bazaar, there sat a man  in rags. Every time I passed by , he smiled and looked away. Neither was he handsome nor was he wealthy. Still I thought about him. Why would anyone wait on streets for years together ?  I  had seen him there since I was a kid.

An autumn morning , I heard he passed away. On the street. No one heard his  dying words. No one offered him gangajal or tulsi. He died unmourned , un-noticed. The bazaar still smelt of spices and perfume.

Years later, I heard his story. From an antique woman. In his prime, the man was a successful merchant. He had a comfortable home and a lovely wife. One  morning, his wife was on her way to the temple on the hillock. A raging earthquake hit the city and razed the hillock to ground. The lovely wife was lost, never to be found. May be she had died , buried under the rubble.

The merchant  never lost hope. Gradually he began to live on the street, hoping that his lovely wife would return. Gradually, he lost his wealth. With age, he lost his health. He lost his mind. The society abandoned him. They called him mad.
But his love for his wife never abandoned him.

This forsaken madman was the epitome of ever-lasting undying love.Whenever I pass by the street where he sat, I smile at it. And then walk away.


Tulika said…
Simple. Strong.
Kavitha said…
Simple yet Beautiful! :)
Scribbling Gal said…
Wow...such love still exists in todays time :) So divine :)
hmm...sweetly a love touch!
Kumar Bibek said…
Good morning. Nice read for a Tuesday morning. Thanks. :)
suruchi said…
amazing na, what true love can make us do:-)
Bikramjit said…
Touching story.. Love is amazing it makes one do things which we would not otherwise ..

~Serendipity~ said…
Straight. Touching. Beautiful Fiction :)
Teritopsy said…
Wow...that's all I could say...just wow!

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All Consuming Love

Dear You,

Looks like I have found you.

In the depths of my love, I notice your smile.

Yes, the one you flash after that brief moment of joy.

I feel your fingers entwined in mine. All the time.

Your eyes speak to mine, asking me questions.

Remember the first time I told you of my affection and my afflictions ?

You must know this. You consume my thoughts, time and grief.

Glad to have met you.