By Neha Dhami
In the ancient city of Varanasi, where the Ganges flowed like a ribbon of silver and the echoes of prayers mingled with the scent of incense, there lived a woman named Nalini. She was a teacher at a local school, where she imparted the wisdom of language to eager young minds. Yet, beneath her calm demeanour lay a heart burdened by the weight of unspoken sorrow—a sorrow that whispered of love lost and dreams left unfulfilled.
Nalini's journey began amidst the narrow alleyways and bustling Ghats of her childhood home, where she first met Arjun—a young man with eyes that sparkled like the stars and a smile that could lighten up the darkest night. Their love bloomed amidst the chaos of the city, weaving together the threads of their hearts in a tapestry of passion and devotion.
Their days were filled with stolen moments of joy—shared cups of chai at a street vendor's stall, secret whispers beneath ancient banyan trees, and dreams of a future intertwined like the sacred threads of a prayer mat. But fate, like a fickle river, swept them apart with a swift and merciless current. Tragedy struck one fateful evening, tearing Nalini and Arjun asunder and leaving behind only the fragments of a shattered dream.
In the following years, Nalini sought solace in her work, burying herself in academia where words held the power to heal and mend. Yet, try as she might, she could not escape the haunting echoes of her past—the memory of Arjun's touch, the sound of his laughter lingering like a melody in the recesses of her mind.
On a quiet morning, as Nalini sat beside the river, watching the sun's rays dance on the water's surface, she first encountered him—a stranger with a gentle smile and eyes that held the wisdom of centuries. He introduced himself as Rohan, a traveller drawn to Varanasi by the city's timeless allure.
Rohan was an enigma, a wanderer with stories etched in the lines of his face. He spoke of distant lands, of mountain trails and desert nights, and of a personal quest for inner peace. In Rohan, Nalini found a kindred spirit, a soul who understood the language of loss without needing words. Together, they wandered through the labyrinthine streets of Varanasi, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stone as they danced to the rhythm of their shared sorrow.
With each passing day, Rohan gently guided Nalini out of the shadows of her grief, teaching her the art of letting go—not through force or coercion, but through the simple act of being present, of embracing the beauty hidden in the spaces between the pain.
He showed her how to find solace in the fleeting moments of joy, in the laughter of children playing by the riverbank, in the gentle caress of a breeze carrying the scent of jasmine and sandalwood. They visited the Ghats during sunrise, where the city awakened in a symphony of colours and sounds. They attended evening aartis, where the devotion of the faithful illuminated the darkness with their fervent prayers.
And so, under Rohan's tender guidance, Nalini learned to release the ghosts of her past, to set them free like prayer flags fluttering in the wind. In their place, she discovered a newfound sense of liberation—a liberation that allowed her to embrace the present moment with an open heart, to cherish each sunrise as a promise of new beginnings.
One evening, as they sat on the steps of a Ghat, watching the river flow endlessly, Rohan spoke of his own loss. He had once loved deeply, only to lose her to the unpredictable nature of life. His journey, he explained, was not just about seeing the world but about finding meaning in the face of loss. His words resonated with Nalini, each one a balm to her wounded heart.
As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Nalini and Rohan wandered the Ghats of Varanasi together, their souls intertwined like the currents of the sacred river. And though the memory of Arjun remained etched in Nalini's heart like a holy mantra, she knew that she was no longer bound by the chains of grief but liberated by the art of letting go.
In time, Rohan's travels called him away from Varanasi. On their last evening together, they sat by the river, silent but for the unspoken bond between them. "Remember," Rohan said softly, "the river never stops flowing, and neither should you. Let your heart be like the Ganges, ever moving, ever embracing."
As Nalini watched Rohan disappear into the crowd, she felt a profound sense of peace. She returned to her life with a lighter heart, her days filled with the promise of new beginnings. She continued to teach, her lessons now infused with the wisdom of her own journey. And every morning, she visited the river, finding in its eternal flow a reminder of the art of letting go.
Years later, Nalini would often tell her students about the lessons she had learned—not just from books, but from life itself. She spoke of love, loss, and the beauty of embracing the present. And in the eyes of her students, she saw the spark of understanding, the light of a future unburdened by the past.
By Neha Dhami
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