I am sitting at the terrace of a place where I am staying. It’s the evening hour where darkness is omnipresent. However, the string lights are adorning the walls and the yellow dim light is adding to the delight. The place is lit with fervour. There are vintage songs been played somewhere nearby which is indeed pleasant, it takes me back to 1980’s era. The contour of the magnificent Taj Mahal is fairly visible from here as a hint of silver light in hindsight is defining the wondrous monument. The saga of love is oozing out every instant, the one written in history from time immemorial.
The slight breeze flowing by, on this valentines day is indeed noteworthy, weaving the strings of romance. The red roses wrapped in plastic sheet is tingling the senses and flashing the moments of poise and passion, the ones spent together with my lover, the intricacies of a relationship and yet the simplicity that is in the moment. The days when a red rose was carefully placed between the pages of a book, or safely stored away in a wardrobe to never be found to be discarded by a family member if known of this clandestine affair. The countless red roses defined our relationship then, and today as well where the fresh drops of water and the whiff of love still paints the zephyr in a subtle crimson, the one that’s endless and redefines it.
Another guy, well indulged in his partner, playing a guitar - strings of guitar are tracing the heart and racing the heartbeat of every other person who is listening to it and reminiscing or living the feeling called ‘love’. The iconic Taj being the witness of a plethora of feelings flushing around, is indeed rejoicing the sight as well.