Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
1 minute . . . 1 ghante . . . 1 din . . . 1 hafte . . . Or ab... 1 mahine. Tumhare pass ho kar bhi tumse dur reh kar jee chuka hu. Par sawal ye hai, ki kya mai sach me jee raha hu? Tumhari har saans k saath tumhare saath jeene ki prarthana kar raha hu. Or jawab ye hai ki tumhari salamati k liye hi mai zinda bacha hu...
I found myself standing once again in front of the same temple where I've been praying for her lately. Two weeks ago, when her body showed a faint sign of movement, I rushed to this temple and spent the entire day chanting bhajans alongside others. Everybody here thinks I have become crazy and eventually I'm, but only for her. I'm doing this for her – to get her back and spend the rest of my life with her, even if it means she'll hate me forever.
As the temple embraced its peace and solitude, I ascended the stairs and sat before the Shiv Linga. Folding my legs, I joined my palms together and began chanting the Maha Mrityunjaya Mantra.
Minutes turned to hours but his chanting didn't stop, it became more vigorous and fierce.
My phone's ring echoed against the temple walls, shattering the rhythm of my chanting. I stopped, glancing around as distant dogs barked, and the sky turned pitch black. Pulling my shawl tighter around me, I picked up the phone from the floor. The screen flashed Randhir's name. My heart flickered with a sliver of hope as I answered the call.
"Bhai! Aap pichle 6 ghante se kaha hai??" Randhir's voice trembled with urgency. "Kher Aap jaha bhi hai jaldi aaiye... Bhabhi sa k vitals gir rahe hai..." His fear-laced words struck like a thunderclap, and before I could respond, the call ended.
("Brother! Where have you been for the past six hours?!" "Anyway, wherever you are, come quickly... Bhabhi's vitals are dropping!")
My grip on the phone loosened, and it slipped from my hands, crashing onto the temple floor. I turned to the Shiv Linga, my vision blurring as reality struck me like a dagger to the chest. The fear of losing her tightened its grip, suffocating the faint flicker of hope I had left.
Tears spilled before I even realized it. My body trembled, my voice breaking into desperate pleas.
"Bhole Baba! Use thik kar dijiye. Wo humari Shakti hai agar use kuch ho gaya toh hum mar jayenge. Hume humari Shakti lauta dijiye..." I asked once again like other days. My breath hitched, sobs wracking my frame, "Bhole Baba! Use thik kar dijiye. Wo humari Shakti hai agar use kuch ho gaya toh hum mar jayenge. Hume humari Shakti lauta dijiye..." (
