How can she love the creature whom she has not touched? This question pinches me all the time. Is it possible to love such a person? I hesitated.
"My only love of this world...," without a single look and touch he has sent her the above words by e-mail. "Whenever you will allow yourself to feel the extreme of love, the pain and sorrow will be wiped out. My words will provide you a place as the morning breeze does. I am sure that you keep me in the corner of your heart. This is the foundation of your love."
This long e-mail sent by him suddenly increases the beatings of her heart. I wonder how it is that the unseen and untouched love through an e-mail can play such a sensitive role in her heart.
"One can live in a loving atmosphere without physical touch," this is the lesson that she has learned from that e-mail. She too started to send her feelings via e-mail... "When I feel love for you, the moment becomes the most important moment imaginable. The imagination recalls, so sweet a recall, I never expected. I was certain that he would be lovely, like the touch of poem - that our love could be permanent and unbelievable. She inserted these words into her email.
This age, the moment of the internet, has helped her to be the happiest creature of this world.
The cool breeze is blowing outside. She can see the long road to the south of her room. The road is busy. It has become her duty to look up at this busy road.
The road is a road.
It does not lose its track like the heart.
This might be the prime feature of a road. This is the difference between them. The vehicles and crowds make the road busy. The road never hesitates. How happy the people will be if the heart remains inflexible like the road.
She stop to watch the crowd and the children on this particular stretch of road. The streets are busy, teeming, and the people on the street are even busier. Nobody has time to think about others. Indeed, it is good to be busy, but what upsets me is that she find herself alone - alone among the people crowed on this road.
'What I am feeling now is that our way of thinking, assumption and style of life are similar. I believe in deep friendship which I think must be delicate as well. So, can't we join our hands and lead a happy life?" she became almost dumb when an aged man in Chinese complexion spoke the above words to her. It was not easy condition to accept or
reject the proposal at once. She felt her heart rapidly beating. Her mind unknowingly concentrated on the proposal that filtered into her ear through a telephone wire.
"I am fond of the marigold (sayapatri) flower. It is my assumption that life should be as delicate as a flower."
In the early morning, she transferred this message to her unseen lover through the telephone. She is not sure whether he heard the word flower or not, but what is comfort to her, is that he too, seems as delicate as her; that perhaps he is a poet. She can easily feel his delicacy in his voice.
Although he speaks well and clearly into the phone, it feels as though they are on opposite sides of this earth. Probably, they will never meet and see one another. The result of probability might be positive or negative. No one can say.
And now, yet again, she was watching the people walking on the road while she sit on the bench outside of her residence. Like the people, her hands are busy; there is no cold outside. The environment is sad but somehow pleasing to look at. But she is feeling fear in her heart. A fear that is causeless and unknown, yet it makes her shiver.