Trails Of Love Poem by Alok Agarwal

The blistering heat of the sun was playing havoc in the crazy Indian summers. With no respite in this scorching heat, I had no option but to pray to Lord Krishna's arch-rival Indra. Indra on the other hand was sitting comfortably numb in his paradise. He was perhaps long dozing off over the numerous application files transmitted directly to his Ministry. I firmly believe that his ministry is grossly affected by the contagious disease of red-tapism. Some Anna must quickly reach there to profess the gospels of Mango Man aka Aam Aadmi. Considering his delicate age, I sincerely hope that he will soon be advocating our case in the Court of Heavens.

In the meantime, I had expected that Mr. Steve Jobs, who is already cherishing a seat in the heavens, would have engaged himself in creating an 'i-link' between the Gods and his earthly devotees. Alas! He is lured by the beautiful Apsaras of Indra. Men! Haa! Nothing beats the idiosyncrasies of huMAN behavior. What a utilization of his precious talent.

My talent is equally notorious, so I request my readers not to pray to send me there to advocate for their cause.

Having set your mood to continue reading further - I can direct you to fasten your seat belts in yet another roller coaster ride of my verbose writings.

The story begins with myself being caught snoozing with my tongue out. 'WHAT the HELL! Don't you know this is office time? ', shouted my boss. His ignominious remark made me fall off my chair. Salaam bhai (Sallu style) . I mean good morning…gud evening…(a quick glimpse at my watch) gud…gu…good afternoon sir. The banters were fiery enough lest we forget the chilly summers. I posed like a guilty schoolboy, who was just nabbed for igniting crackers during Diwali in the ever-cursed bathrooms.

What a pleasant day is this turning out to be!

The clock ticked 3: 00 pm. Still two hours left. Everything was in doldrums, and I just wasn't able to plan an escapade from my numerous gaffes. Ohh God! In thy Holy name, forgive me for my sins and bestow your sacred blessings upon your disciple. 'GRANTED', a thunderous voice was accompanied by lightening. The whole environment quickly culminated into a Rajnikant flick. There were sudden gusts of sandstorms. The chirping of the birds, rumbling of the leaves…nature seems to resonate my eternal happiness. The clock now shows 5: 00 pm. For the first time, I got a chance to experience the modern mythological concept of general relativity.

La La La! Shakira! Shakira!

I ran out of my captivity like a nursery school boy. Happy as a lark.

The environment was perfect for evening snacks, which in Indian context are always deep fried. I occupied a cozy corner in a roadside dhaba, while waiting for my coveted order. While waiting for my order to be served, I paid homage to Lord Indra, from now on to be prefixed with 'Lord' against his holy name, for the downpours he has showered onto Mother Earth. The downpours marked the entry of THE Aphrodite.

Very few events deserve importance enough to distract me from the wafting aromas of street food. This was surely one of those incidents, with mathematical probability of occurring once in a millennium. She was as beautiful as God could have created. She had black eyes, rosy cheeks, red lips, golden hair…she was a complete rainbow occurring concurrently with the rains.

My eyes were glued onto her. I can always describe her in the most sycophantic way possible, but that will only undermine her beauty. Just a single eye contact with her, and I had already entered the divine cosmos. All these years I have been running like a Kasturi gazelle, who is unaware that the aura of his felicity is within him only. Till now, I was just a robot - but henceforth, I was instilled with a soul. I am no longer like a cog in a wheel. I am now beyond the cycles of births and re-births. Just a glance at her, and I am speaking Bhagvad Gita. Such was her influence on me.

Under the spell of my Aphrodite, a lousy figure engrossed by wrinkles appeared with my food order. The malicious smile on his face suggested that he has vividly lived my experiences when he was of my age. His era is now part of history books, and does not deserve space in this civilized writing. I care not of his enigmatic intent, and focused myself in engulfing a morsel of paneer pakoda. The food was delicious enough to have me disenchanted from the beauty of the princess, but only temporarily. Romance was in the air and I was a part of it.

We all know that rain will eventually stop, and I won't be able to capture any more of her glimpses again; but does that matter or rather should it matter? Can love be restrained in the threads of physical intimacy? Numerous questions bombarded my head. I dare not seek answers to the questions, the answers of which are beyond my learned wisdom to understand.

There wasn't a single word exchanged in my encounter with her. I might not even exist in her conscious or sub-conscious mind.

In a parallel universe, a similar story might have been unfolding. The protagonist over there might have shed his inhibitions and taken a lead. The most plausible ending, '…and they lived happily ever after'. But, this isn't a fairy tale. I will not reach out to her, for the fear of being dubbed as a womanizer. I do not wish to get involved in a sanguinary row with the junta of the dhaba, in case she happens to create a scene. This is a risk I am reluctant to take. This is not just my story. How many of us actually follow what we dream of. The human heart is grossly affected by the dubious maze of emotions, passions, ambitions and insinuations. The more we try to unravel the mystery of human psychology, the more complicated the mystery becomes.

Bringing the spotlight back to my castle with a thatched roof, and muddy floor - the inevitable has occurred. Rain has stopped. All the courtiers have slowly started to leave; leaving behind their own fragrance of memories, their own trails of love. Before I left, I saw someone barbaric whose heart was burning with celestial fire succeeded in achieving the feat that I was only dreaming. What was her response? Did she retaliate with the same warmth of emotions by which she was approached, or that someone was strangled by her of his barbarism? That will never be known to us, for I left the theater before the play could actually be enacted.

Having struck a chord of sentiment in your bosom; I would like to clarify and specify to demystify that - a similar incident occurred a few days later, when I was walking down the aisle of temple; and then, when I was taking a walk in the garden; and then, in a marriage function of some distant relative; and then, when I was attending an office meeting; and then, numerous such incidences that occur rather frequently in my life. To cut the story short, 'Baharein aur bhi aayengi', cryptically translated as, 'Greenery is all around, just take a walk around, and leave your own trails of love'. ​