‘What am I to you?’ She asks out of the blue. The valley is lush with vegetation. It’s strange, the vulgarity of modern human existence hasnt touched this pristine valley. The noisy screeching parrots are flying across the vast blue sky. By stroke of luck the tourists of the Cities are unaware of this place. It’s carefully hidden by the hills of Eastern Ghats. The long shadows of the morning; the neem and the banyan; the bamboo and the teak; the flame of the forest and the bougainvillea; wild flowers and those bright golden yellow Cassias, it’s an enchanting morning. There is mist in the air and the perfume of the early morning wind with the birds warming up to the warmth of the Morning Sun. There ought to be prayer for the Morning. Everything around is wide awake. One could meditate on a Morning like this. She and I are walking. I with my hands dug deep into my pockets and She letting the mist and Sun touch her. That tiny little wind that always seems to have been in love with her hair is playing with it. ‘Friend of my Mind’, I answer without much thought. “Ah! You and your Atheist sensibilities!” She exclaims. “Friend of My Mind”, she repeats. “You are good with words, arent you?” I shrug. Locking her right arm into my left, she gently places her head on my Shoulder. Looking into my eyes, she repeats, “Friend of my Mind”.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Mar 2014 13:49:12 +0000