“Give me those big red roses,” Gautham argued with the flower seller on Mall Road.
“But Sir, those are for twenty-five rupees each. You have given me fifty and you want four of my best red roses. Please take these yellow ones and leave.” The shopkeeper was exasperated.
“Your job is to sell the flowers. I can give you twenty more, nothing more. They are for the One whom I love. Priya likes only red roses. Don’t you know?” Gautham retorted.
Now, how am I supposed to know that? thought the seller.
Today, the Sun was having a peaceful picnic in Bansoi village; most of the time, it was declared non-existent by the long-time ruler, the Rain God.
Today, the evening sky was painted with warm hues of orange and red. It lent an orange glow to the dark mountains, smoky valleys and calm blue lake.
Gautham hurried home with the three red roses he had finally managed to buy. It was getting late for his evening prayer. And Priya would be hungry.
He had a warm bath, changed into a new blue shirt and said his prayers. Blue was Priya’s favourite colour.
“Hi, handsome!” He could almost hear her shy whisper.
He placed the three roses and ‘prasad’(offering) of ‘kheer’ (sweetened rice pudding) he had prepared that day before Priya’s framed picture in the prayer room. He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
“Do you like these roses, darling? I thought I should go in search of better ones but it was getting late. Today is our twentieth wedding anniversary. Look, I am wearing the shirt you gifted me two years ago. Yeah! I am not an expert at making sweets.” Gautham blushed.
Nothing much had changed in Gautham’s life since Priya died last year. Yes, he was shocked, in grief for some time like any other human. Then he contemplated his situation.
He realized the undeniable truth- the one whom we love deeply, ultimately becomes one with us. We feel their presence, thoughts and emotions in everything we do. They guide, support, and reach out to us in times of need. We must accept this soulfulness and head towards a normal life. The physical presence of a companion is not the only proof of love.
“I love you, Priya, for you are my soulmate,” he said for the umpteenth time.