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rama, sita & frangipani


she sat by the side of the pool listening to the breeze flow through the rice fields. The wooden balinese wood chimes beat about wildly - filling the evening with the sounds that meant bali to her - all of it's sacredness, all of it's purity, all of it's strength, all of music and all of it's mystique undulating from the corner of the kitchen where the chimes hung, all the way to the end of the pool, where she sat watching the stars. 

she lay on her back to see them clearer without having to crane her neck. Her feet dangled at the edge of the swimming pool. And her toes danced coming in contact with water. The ripples from that movement, making their own music with the chimes. Nothing could've made the moment any more complete. There was nothing on her mind - her eyes were open but they might as well have been closed - for all they saw were a clear night sky with a million stars, also dancing along with her toes. And yet as soon as she said - this is perfect - to herself, he walked up to her and lay quietly by her side. His toes caught onto the rhythm of the night and swung to their own beat - a different tune - but in complete harmony with their secret piece of music. And so he made the evening a little more complete, added to the completeness that already existed - and together they lay there far away from their phones or any wifi. In complete silence - because no words would've captured this ecstasy - this stolen moment from the rushes of time. A soft glow from the nearby chicken cage lamp fell on them - a zigzag shape and crisscrossing lights - embodying all the confusion their hearts felt - bringing into existence a sense of fulfillment and craving that accompanied them all these months :will they have an answer today? The breeze blew over a frangipani flower from the tree behind them, he picked it up, tenderly turned her hand, palm facing up and placed the single flower on it. 

what is this bali, what is this new journey you're taking me on - shall i come along or shall I stay back in fear? She felt like the boy in the book telling the alchemist - my heart is a traitor, it is afraid that it will have to suffer... and Bali as though replying to her fear, shook with a ferocious gust of wind and bellowed to her - echoing the words of the alchemist:

Tell your heart the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in the search of it's dreams, because every second of the search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity...

a balinese had seen them together and called them rama and sita - the ever-praying balinese found the sacred everywhere they looked. And this one seemed to have found it in them as them walked back from the beach. she had frowned at that - anything religious scared her and rama-sita were a doomed love story in spite of their great love. that comment came back to her for a brief second and then drifted away with the wind - for nothing can spoil what they have now - they were not this a minute back and they will not be this a minute later - but for now - they were here. her and him and a frangipani flower lying between them - and right there for that tiny moment - nothing else mattered. the magic of bali. big magic. always engulfing you in. 

this time with a frangipani scent.




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