The Momma Clan

“Love settles in the rays of the morning sun, and the wind carries the scent of flowers and spreads in the world. It beats in a rhythmic pattern and hums songs in unison. Love binds two people in an invisible thread and nurtures their passion for each other”. 

Amogh smiled at Ananya while reading the lines from his favorite novel; 

Love is like the fragrance of flowers,

That tickles the heart,

Love is like the drops of dew,

Settled on the blossoming flowers,

Tender and pristine,

It shines with the sun’s rays, 

He touched her fingers, took a deep breath, and uttered those three magical words. “I love you.”

Ananya heard the words intently. She tugged the hair strands behind her ears and smiled shyly, her eyes welling up. “I love you too,” she whispered.

The buzzing bell broke their reverie, and Ananya hastily looked at her watch. “I have to rush to class,” she said. She ran off, giving a flying kiss to Amogh. “See you later,” she chimed.

Amogh walked away, carrying books, with a sling bag hanging from his shoulder. His dark brown complexion and sparkling eyes made him look younger than his age. He was tall and slender and loved reading; the library was his favorite place to spend most of his time each day browsing through books from various genres. He sought solace in the heaps of books, running his fingers along the spines of hardcovers. The king of romance, Nicholas Sparks, was his favorite author, and he had read most of his works. Amogh and Ananya were students at an MBA college, where Amogh majored in Finance and Marketing. Ananya was an HR student. Bubbly and chirpy, Ananya was a contrast to Amogh’s reticent demeanour. Amogh drowned himself in books and scribbled poetic lines on the back pages.

He hated unhappy endings in love stories and often skipped that part, making something of his own. While reading the lines to Ananya, he recreated the ending and made it beautiful with happily ever afters. Ananya believed his version of the story was more fascinating than the original one.

Ananya heard stories for hours without getting bored. She smiled, cried, and fell in love with the twists and turns; she was confused about whether Amogh’s narration and storytelling prowess were more powerful and engaging or the brilliantly crafted plots of the best-selling authors. From many books Amogh read to her, she loved the ‘Message in the Bottle’ the most. The characters and their journey seemed real.

Days passed by, and the love grew deeper. As valentine’s day approached, they wanted to make it special- a little different than the usual. They planned an outing to a nearby waterfall with their friends, 263 km from the city. They started in the morning at the break of dawn and enjoyed the journey, their friends whistling, singing, and dancing. The lovey-dovey couple warmed their hearts beneath the canopy of the warm sun; they crossed green meadows, hillocks, and villages; nature’s unfurling beauty enchanted them. It was a respite from the busy, humdrum routine of city life.

After 3 hours and 30 minutes, they reached their destination. A magnificent waterfall gurgled its way down from the hills. The frothy water touched the rocks and settled in its orbs. The water drops brushed with the hardness of the rocky cliffs, danced, and made a tingling sound like bells in the monastery. It filled their hearts with mirth and soothed their ears. Mesmerised, Amogh and Ananya walked hand in hand on the hanging bridge, joining two ends of the hill. 

The vast stretched mountains beckoned them, and they wandered into its mystic aura; the view was breathtakingly beautiful. Amogh excitedly walked ahead of Ananya, calling her to follow in his footsteps. Ananya was scared and screamed less out of excitement and more out of fear, “Watch your steps; the path is narrow”. Amogh heard nothing and kept leaping forward like a rabbit, swift at feet.

Ananya followed, while all their other friends rested on the hilly steps, refusing to walk on the rope-like bridge. Amogh, carefree and energetic, kept moving forward until he reached the tip of the mountain where the gushing waterfall began, cascading steeply and smoothing into a river. His excitement was palpable, and he kept pacing with quick steps. The rocks, covered in moss, were slippery, but Amogh was determined to see the view on the other side of the mountain.

He halted to catch his breath, but the glistening rays of the sun beckoned him to walk further. Suddenly, he felt the urge to touch the water. The cold water splashed, wetting his hands and feet. He didn’t mind playing with the water a little more. “Ananya, you should watch the view, come fast,” Amogh shouted, giggling naughtily.

Ananya was far behind, walking with slow, measured steps. Her carefulness and fear contrasted sharply with Amogh’s exhilaration.

Ananya’s cautioned him once more. He paid no heed and rushed.

He tried to reach the streaming water, the tip of his fingers touching the droplets; he stooped further until his hands were wet. The gushing flow enchanted him, and he stretched forward. The mossy rock beneath his feet shifted a little, but he was engrossed in the moment and failed to judge the distance accurately. Just as he was about to pull back, Amogh’s foot slipped. He desperately tried to clutch at any support, but nothing helped. He went rolling, jostling, and jerking with the cascading water. Amogh’s heart raced, his fingers outstretched to grasp hold of something, his feet dabbling in the water. The relentless waterfall drowned his love and nascent desires, pulling him into the abyss of darkness. The world blurred as he tumbled into the serene calmness, the giant swallowing him whole.

 His screech drowned in the rushing waterfall while people standing went numb, unable to react to the incident. Ananya quivered, her hands reaching out, her feet unstable and wobbling. She shrieked, calling Amogh a million times before she froze. Silence ensued. The eerie silence engulfed the catastrophe. Ananya lost her voice forever. Her shrieks fused with the noisy waterfall noiselessly; a strange fear gripped her in its ugly claws, and she lost herself to the undefined mystery little by little. Unable to accept fate’s cruel game, Ananya turned into a stone, barren and lifeless. The cascading waterfall pulled him into the deep waters, never to give him back. Amogh’s body was never found.

Rescue operation attempts went in vain. The rock etched Amogh and Ananya’s names on its pristine surface; the gushing water failed to erase the bold letters. 

Ananya’s wait for a happy ending to their love story seemed endless. The waterfall gurgles, its gushes mellowing towards the foot of the cliff. The sound haunts her and tears her heart apart. 

Nibedita