When in the end, they joined the queue to the sanctum sanctorum, the devotees around mistook them for newly weds. When they reached the deity for darshan, the pujari too invoked the blessings of the Lord as he would for a married couple. Pleased by the faux pas, they both prayed to the Lord for vetting the pujari’s invocation. Later, they picked up the prasadam and had it for their breakfast in seclusion.

“I’ve never tasted anything better before,” he said, savoring the sweetish wheat preparation.

“It’s believed that the life of those who have it would be uniquely sweet,” she invented a legend as an expedient.

“I shall have more of it then,” he mocked greediness.

“I don’t think,” she said mischievously, “it’s the partnership spirit.”

“You’re an interesting company.”

“It all depends,” she said coyly, “on the company.”

He wondered whether her allusion was about the Lord or him, and dared not hope in spite of her apparent courting.

“You made me realize,” he said, “I need a friend like you.”

“Why, haven’t you got one?”

“You know how hard life has been on me,” he said, “and now hope itself is beyond hope for me.”

“Why live in the past when the present is inviting,” she said alluding to the pujari’s faux pas. “Didn’t the Lord bless you to rebuild your life?”

“Tell me honestly,” he said pointedly, as he could hold no more. “Can you forget my past?”

“Well, didn’t I forget mine?” she said, as she felt hesitant to be forthright in her reply.

“What is your story,” he said tentatively, “if you can tell me?”

“If I won’t tell you, to who else will I?” she said having developed second thoughts about the deviousness of her evasive talk.

“I would like to hear,” he said with a strange sense of relief, “now and here.”

Making him feel at ease with her empathic gaze, she proceeded to narrate her tale of predicament and its aftermath.

“That’s the spirit really,” he said in admiration.

“What is it compared to yours?” she said augmenting her statement with facial expression. “Isn’t your life remarkable in every way?”

“Thanks for your high opinion on my low life,” he blurted out in spite of himself.

“Oh, don’t say that,” she took his hand instinctively.

“Thank you,” he said in gratitude, and added in hope, “but, why haven’t you made good of your great escape!”

“By marrying, you mean,” she said coyly.

He nodded his head as much to convey his agreement as to indicate his own mind.




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