Bound by Fate | [✓]

28. Sweet Dreams

I loved art.

I loved the way art was expressed. It was beautiful to see yet it had so much to explain. The thoughts filled in the author. The thoughts that led to the creation of an absolute masterpiece.

And now as I stared at the beautiful stones carved on the ceiling of the temple. I couldn't help but keep admiring it. The ceiling had a huge carved stone of Lord Krishna between millions of gopis yet only one stood. She stood right next to him. Leaning on his shoulder as he played the flute.

And surrounding the spherical rock piece were images of Lord Krishna chasing after his Radhe.

It was a Durga Maa's temple. Yet there was a whole section of the temple dedicated Radhe.

And where Radhe resided. How could it not be filled with her love with Lord Krishna?

I must admit that even though I hadn't believed in gods before. In the past eight years I could have easily passedfor a saint with the amount of praying I had done. It was something to brag about. My darling had indeed turned me into a firm believer of god.

While I was intrigued at how we hindus incorported every god in a temple that is dedicated to some other god or goddess. I hear a soft shuffling beside me. The musical sound of bangles beside me.

"Atharva?"

I turn towards Evara. Casually still admiring the architecture around me. When my breath stops all together. I freeze. Stunned at what I had laid my eyes on. Was the heat playing illusions? I parted my lips trying to breathe. Thinking it will push away all the hallucinations and delusions.

But she stood right there. No ghungat on her face.

Still ethereal as ever.

And all I feel is the shower of blessing from the dear almighty as my eyes fall upon the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

Evara had aged like fine wine.

With every passing day, with every passing minute her beauty grew. And as I looked into her lush mahogany eyes. The brown that had secretly become my favourite colour over the years. Found its home.

I was looking into her face.

Not the crying face.
From when she ran away.

Not the shattered face.
From being betrayed.

Not the face of indifference.
From when she looked down at me from her balcony as I stood outside.

Not the face she showed other.
The one with a fake smile.

She showed me her real smile.

The gentle smile that had been the reason of me pestering her for morning kisses every morning when we were dating. It was the smile that made her glow. It was the smile of my dreams.