A Nymph's Mortal Love

Ch-4: The Maiden of Your Dreams

My dear wife got so excited to write some adorable moments for her story that she did not pick the pen. Rather she ended up walking around our house all excited and giggly. But someone has to resume the story.

Rati has been dreaming about some scenes to write for a divine-mortal romance story, which might have pushed an idea in my head.

And I am the Love God, my wife's husband and her counterpart, a very handsome one at that. I may not be as talented as her in writing love stories, but I sure make them happen.

After all, someone must sprinkle magic dust on paper!

Before I leave for my job to support my wife's work, dear reader, will you answer a question?

Can you dream of a sweetheart you haven't met?

***

It is 4 am. Not a soul walks on the dense fog-covered road. Cows seek shelter on the roadside, and stray dogs cuddle together for comfort as still coldness reigns over the quiet night.

Mihir sleeps soundly on his bed. Old movie posters, some torn, hang on his walls. A few ink patches from his childhood days decorate those creamy white walls. Beside his bed lies a small wooden stool, atop which stands a table lamp, and a small photo frame of his parents—his father and mother in their marriage attire, their faces youthful and jubilant.

Under a soft brown duvet, Mihir sleeps, his slumber taking him to the mystical and unknown world of dreams, a place full of strange wonders. Dreams that show a path, and sometimes a premonition, and if it isn't either of the two, it is only a crazy representative of one's conscious memory.

A sweet giggle rings around his ears. The sound of clinking glass bangles makes Mihir swerve to the left. An empty spot welcomes him. His eyes search for the sweet womanly sound until the gushing waters of a waterfall gather his attention.

Thick white streams of water fall down a semicircular rocky ledge into a long plunge pool. The water boasts a clear blue-green shade, reflecting the greenery and colourful stones around it. The speeding river casts a mist at the plunge pool, hiding the downward-moving waters that meet the bottom river flow.

And when curious eyes admire the waterfall, an alluring voice calls out the observer's name.

"Mihir..."

His heart races at the utterance of his name. Icy winds hit his face as the beautiful voice twists its way into his heart. A warm hand grazes his shoulders, its touch comforting yet searing.

"Snegidhane..."

His eyes open to the sight of a young woman standing near a large boulder, her back turned on him. Long brown hair open left open fly with the cold winds around the waterfall, those tresses gently caressing her almost bare back. A light pink antariya designed with golden embroidery at the borders tied lowly at the waist accentuates her curves, especially her hips and thighs. Mihir finds golden anklets adorning her feet. 

The mysterious maiden gathers her long hair in her right hand and tosses it over her shoulder, leaving a gorgeous view of her back to the observer standing below the ledge. Her subtle movement of moving her hair carries such grace and beauty that despite the desire clouding his heart, an admirable gasp leaves his lips at the wondrous sight in front of him, a sight only possible to witness in someone's dreams.

A rich purple cloth tied in a tight knot at the back comes into view, which richly contrasts with her fair skin. Colorful butterflies swarm to her as if a beautiful flower calls them to her through her lovely nectar. They gently perch along her shoulders that stretch like a lovely wave. Their wings tickle the beauty, causing her shoulders to move, the motion akin to a gentle wave kissing the sandy shore.