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It"s a tale of two pilgrimages--one with the temple and the other with a river.I was split between the two....with something here and something there. I couldn't decide whether to be a part of this thousand thronging devotees who had assembled in small courtyards in snaking lanes to reach the sanctum sanctorum or get soaked in that river of love.

I was a part of this crowd but was I with them? Did I knew like them that my journey concludes here ? They are believers. .oh yes they are....they come with a conviction that their prayers will be answered. 

 

And what about me? I felt that I needed both extremities to form a line along which a simple journey would commence. I was in the threshold of a new found love and my prayers had been answered. 

I walked hand in hand ...my feet tinkling...I was in joy. Every now and then our eyes met with a careless finality that it felt like a migration of epic proportions.  The air around me was free of any romance. This is probably so because the air was already too heavy with the unuttered passions of those who walk miles to get here, and it could hardly hold anything more.

However,  the night was celestial for me. I had to look up to meet those eyes to know how wonderful it is to drown in the river of love. I learnt that love needs to be special and not mundane like a daily chore.  I realised that love is not to be culminated into a certainty but like life  a tinge of uncertainty gives it a charm.

So my tale is no different than those devotees.Their began with a dip in the river and ended at the shrine.  Mine began at the temple and ended near a river.