Monday, December 12, 2011

A Drop of Love


A dewdrop found itself resting on the petal of a rose. That was the only memory of the drop. It was born there, separated from a cloud of fog and felt happy to be there.

There was something that lured the drop; a pull towards the heart of the flower since the petal was sloppy. The dew felt its destiny already marked out.

It said to the rose, “What would happen if I slid into your heart?”
The flower looked at the drop. There was a peculiar grace to the dewdrop. And the sun was sharing its gleam with the crystal soul of the drop. The flower fell in love with the dewdrop all at once. “I will…” the flower blushed, “I will receive you into my soul and transform you into honey.”  

The dewdrop could not decide what to choose. The company of the flower was mesmerizing. Its fragrance was unique. But what it said was dubious. It said it will transform the dewdrop into honey. ‘What is honey?’ The dewdrop thought. ‘Would it mean I have to disappear? Whom shall I ask?’  

Then, as if the thought of the dewdrop came to life, a sweet little humming was heard. The flower and the plant danced with slight tremor. The drop did not see anyone. But there came a question, “Who are you looking for?”

“Who are you?” The dewdrop asked. It was a surprise that still there was no one in sight.
“I am the breeze,” said the voice, still invisible.
“Why are you invisible?” asked the drop.
“This is how I am, if you are born with your guileless soul, I am born with the cloak of invisibility.”
“Can you help me?” asked the dewdrop.  
“Sure, tell me how.”
“What shall I do? The flower asked me to come inside her bosom, and she would transform me into honey. I do not know what to do. Do I have another choice? If I go out of the petal, I will fall down into hell,” the voice of the dewdrop was sad when it said this.

There was silence for the next moment. Then the breeze said, “Down below, there is the earth, not hell. However, you have another choice; you can contemplate the sun and when its rays are powerful enough they will lift you up to the heavens and take you back to the place where you were born.”

“Am I not born here?” the drop asked.
“No, you are taken here, from the sky. The sky is your birthplace.”
“Then I do not want to go back,” said the dewdrop, “I want to live and experience the most beautiful thing in life. How can I do it, breeze? Can you guide me please?” When it said it, the dewdrop’s soul took a ray from the sun and reflected it in a thousand colours.

“The flower is in love with you and is ready to transform you into the sweetest thing within its heart; how foolish you are not to realize it,” whispered the breeze, which the dewdrop could not hear. “How easy it is for someone to ignore the transforming power of love.”

“I will help you,” said the breeze.
The dewdrop felt the tremor once again, this time much powerful; and it felt itself gliding down slowly. Before the next moment, the dewdrop embraced the heart of the flower. There was a trail of chill left on the petal. The flower smiled at the dewdrop and the dewdrop felt happy for the touch of love. It didn’t ask anything else, for by then it new everything to be known. 

[Image Courtesy-all three images: Google Images]
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