(picture is from internet)

Dom and Louisa were inseparable. Coming from diverse backgrounds this miracle occurred with head bumps.friendship sprouted. Both were good in their studies and in a healthy spirit of rivalry, their relationship flourished. The only cloud in their lives was the green eyed monster. Both were wildly popular and had many friends of both sexes. This made each one jealous of the other’s close friends. Being of volatile Latin blood, their anger did not take long to boil over. They would not talk to each other for days. Then they would kiss and make up.

In an experiment undertaken by the city’s Education dept, economically weak kids were bused to affluent neighborhoods. Louisa was one such kid and Dom came from an aristocratic background. She was made to sit with Dom. They were both eight years old.

Their relationship began with a bang on their heads and dislike. But gradually they became aware of each other and when Dom rescued Louisa from being mercilessly teased by a bunch of boys, their

When this liking turned to love was hard to pinpoint. Both families were unhappy about this alliance but seeing their determination, they gave in grudgingly.

It is wedding rehearsal day. Elders from both families wil be meeting for first time. Only the parents had met before. Then a miracle happened. When everyone gathered, Louisa’s grandmother stared at an elderly gentleman across the table. It was Dominic’s great uncle David Vargas. Then she asked “Are your parents Louisa and David Souza?’ Seeing the uncle’s nod, she squealed delightfully tears streaming down her cheeks. David realizes he was staring at his long lost sister Louisa. Louisa had runaway from home at the age of seventeen because her family was forcing her to join the convent. She had no desire to become a bride of Christ. So she ran away to America. Luckily on the boat she met a fellow Spaniard and together they found a place to stay and later got married. Now there were no qualms as far as this alliance was concerned. In fact everyone said Louisa was lucky for them. She was the spitting image of her grandma. It became a family affair. Everyone beamed.

The bride and groom said their vows and kissed. The cake was cut. Suddenly, Dominic pulls out a knife from his pocket! Everyone is shocked and stare at him. Louisa’s mouth opens and eyes quizz. Dominic calls out to his best man to bring out the surprise. The best man lays down two green dolls on the table. With great fanfare a boy and girl doll in green color were produced. With a flourish, Dom presents the knife to Louisa and asks her to stab the girl doll to put an end to all their petty jealousies. He does likewise. There is a burst of applause. He starts their marriage without a single dark cloud.

Now they are truly gliding on cloud nine.

Dainty flick of wrist
Quick mental whisk
Salty dew drops

Shared tender love
Tendrils of affection
Kisses, make up

Aching heart heavy
Mourns memory loss
Time robbed us both honey!

picture from internet

Circle Of Love

Our ship had docked and we decided to explore.

Sandy was native Alaskan. I, Sonia was from New York. We’d met at a summer camp, fallen in love and got married. That was five years ago.

A friend hailed Sandy but I decided to explore further- we decided to meet at the dock in a couple of hours.

I found a lookout point from where I could feast on the glaciers which drew me. I was joined by an elderly stranger. He told me a lovely folktale of this point.

Aaleahya was native Alaskan. She loved Iqniq (fire) the chief’s son. They were to wed next full moon day. Meanwhile their village got attacked by white man and Iqniq was killed. Aaleahya was sad. She came to this point nightly and stared at the glaciers. She died of a broken heart. Visitors often saw Aaleahya and Iqniq’s spirits embracing here. Stranger showed her his locket with their faces. She saw Sandy and herself staring back!

this picture is from inernet

The Guest

Kitu- as a child:

“Why can I not have my room all to myself? I wish we were not living in Bombay and get this unseasonable rain of guests.”   This was a justified lament that had her late for school, punishments, missed rest periods, adding to her woes.

Kitu-at 14:

“I have a crush on Kip.  Wish he would return my glances sometimes.  I would love to go out with him for movies etc.”  Body changes, hormonal rages were playing havoc with Kitu’s mind and body along with a never ending stream of guests, more on than off.
“This Kip, friend of coz Arun is really cute!  I wonder what made him join the army.  I would not mind going out with him.  Hopefully mom and dad will let me accompany him to sightsee Bombay!”  One evening Kitu was alone and Kip returned home early.   They were together alone and after evening tea they sat chit-chatting.
Kitu’s heart was beating very fast.  Suddenly Kip came and sat close to her. He gave her a hug.  Her heart leapt in her mouth with fear and excitement.  She was aware of the birds and bees and was game for some experimentation as well.  They kissed and hugged each other tight.  Kitu was over the moon.  She had puppy love.
 

Kip-20 something:

“This kid Kitu is sweet but I better stay away or else Arun and her parents will have my hide!  Luckily I will be posted out of here soon.  However, she is cute as a button.  I must control myself around her.”

Kitu: 50 plus:

“I wish the train comes on time.  This waiting room is so dingy and dismal.  Wish I’d brought a novel along to pass the time.  The people here are not very interesting.”
Suddenly a man enters the waiting room and as he sits down on the bench next to her, his book falls on the ground.  Kitu picks it up and sees the name Ranjit Singh Tanwar. Involuntarily she blurts out “Are you Kip?”  The stranger is startled and looks at Kitu closely but does not recognize her.  She tells him that she is Kitu and that he had stayed as a guest in their house decades ago.  Kip recalls the young girl he had fooled around with and suddenly he remembers it all.  They have an animated catch up on news of each other’s families and then Kitu asks him where he was headed?  He says, Bombay.  She invites him over.  Kip agrees.

Kitu is a widow and an empty nester.  Her son and daughter are settled in USA and she is alone.  She is a famous writer under another name.  She likes this anonymity.  She has moved back into the compact flat of her parents that she had rented out.   She is home.

Kip is a nature photographer and has published many travel books and writes articles for National Geographic Magazine.  He was divorced by his wife who got tired of living alone for months.  His only son is married and has a son of his own.

Two lonely souls finally connect, mingle, co-habit after retying the knot.  Life comes full circle.  This one guest moved in for good and All Is well in their world.

**  **  **

Do you know what you call those who use towels and never wash them, eat meals and never do the dishes, sit in rooms they never clean, and are entertained till they drop? If you have just answered, “A house guest,” you’re wrong because I have just described my kids.

Erma Bombeck
American, Journalist

picture from internet 

Little Bobby loved to venture now that he could crawl.  His mom Raji was usually at her wit’s end turning pots n pans, closets, nooks and crannies for him.  Finally she’d extricate him with cobwebs hanging on curly locks and dust smearing his cherubic face.  His endearing smile melted her anger and she hugged him to her bosom, thankful that he was safe.

Bobby

“Mom is really busy today and now that my tummy is full, I can go and seek new adventure.”  His tiny anklets tinkling, the baby made a beeline for his favorite haunt, that secret room with big brass inlaid doorway and old fashioned chain and lock where happily he gurgled and cooed as though playing with someone.  Luckily the door had been unlocked for mopping and dusting.

“Today I am going to explore that dark corner which has some really interesting jars and pots.  Even though I like that silver baby in the swing a lot but if I can crawl into the rocking chair, then I can have a better look.  Let’s see if I am able to climb on.” 

Pre-Partition of India and Pakistan

Chowdhary Ratan Singh was greatly respected in his town in West Punjab, now in Pakistan.  His family owned a flourishing business in dry fruits.  His brothers and their families also lived in the rambling mansion.  Ratan had one son and two daughters.  He got his girls settled early and was on the lookout for a suitable bride for his son Rajratan(Raj).  Around that time there was a problem in the dry fruit supply from Kabul and he sent Raj to investigate.  Raj went to meet their main supplier Aftab Khan who invited him for dinner.  There he met Khan’s daughter Kesar and fell head over heels in love with her.  Kesar felt the same pull.  She knew her father was ready to marry her off to her awful cousin Kaif who was a mean person and hence knowing their families would never agree, they bolted to Delhi.

Kesar’s mother was in the know and not only approved but had given whatever money she could lay her hands on and jewelry.  She even sent a maid to help them.  Both the fathers were angry and washed their hands off them and forbid everyone from even uttering their names.  Ratan cursed his first born but on his deathbed forgave his son and wished they had patched up. 
Rajratan Singh and Kesar were hardworking and after selling their jewelry and diamond ear-rings they were able to have enough seed money to start they own dry fruit business in Delhi.  Both knew the supply sources and through a trusted hand were able to build up their business from scratch.  Here in Delhi festivals and marriages took place all the time hence dry fruits were always in demand.  They had chosen well.  The couple missed their old homes.  They constructed their new home incorporating the beauty of both ancestral homes.  The doors had brass inlaid work and the windows and latticed balconies had intricate colored glass designs to keep the harsh summer sun out.  Cross ventilation kept their home cool.  They were happy except for the one recurring pain in their bosom for their kith n kin whom they missed dreadfully.    Raj and Kesar each had worn cameos of their parents around their neck and hence got paintings done of their elders and it occupied a place of honor in their diwan khana (drawing room).  The kids would get to know their grand parents in this manner only.

Time sped and Raj and Kesar’s two sons decided to study abroad where they subsequently married and settled down never to return. The parents  grieved for their sons realizing how their own parents must’ve felt.  They reconciled and now took one day a time.      

There was a lot of unrest against the British rule.  Some firebrand Hindus decided to bomb the local prison and set free their leaders.  Raj and Kesar were in the bazaar when the bomb misfired and were killed instantly.  Their horse buggy driver and jack of all cook Bakshi quickly gathered up their mangled bodies and got them cremated before sundown. Then they dispatched mail to their sons overseas to return home and immerse the ashes in the holy Ganges.    The letters never reached as the post office was bombed the next day.  The sons remained oblivious of their parent’s demise.  Finally the family lawyer as per instructions sold off the mansion keeping one room locked with family heirlooms for the sons whom he had informed via telegram.  It was a clause that was agreed upon by the buyer in the sale deed.  Their parent’s curse did not let Raj and Kesar rest in peace and their ashes languished along with the heirlooms.  They lingered on.

This was the room which attracted the baby most.  The keys had been provided to the new owner for mopping and dusting and for this service the sale price had been adjusted.

Little Bobby managed to climb the rocker in the forbidden room.  He was in seventh heaven.  There were so many interesting objects on the mantle above the fireplace.  Also there were those huge pictures of old people.  He scrambled down and crawled into the corner, when suddenly four hands quickly embraced him and hugged him.  He felt kisses being showered on his cheeks and squealed with delight.  The maid was passing by and heard the sound and came rushing in.  She brought out the dirty squirmy brat and then his mother saw perfect lip marks on his two cheeks! She got the fright of her life!  She decided to investigate.  She saw the nook where Bobby had crawled and there under the red velvet cloth lay two pots tied up with red threads.  They looked like someone’s ashes!

So the old people’s spirits were still in residence!  Oh my God! Her hand flew to her mouth in a silent cry.  She quickly called her husband home and showed him the ashes.

Next morning they called the local pundit who knew the departed well and said that they were waiting for salvation at the hands of their sons.  Fortunately the sons were finally in town to tie up the loose ends of the family business and property sale and had indicated that they would like to see what their parents had stored for them.  They were grief stricken and remorseful about their callous neglect.  But it was too late.  Next day they performed “Havan” and all rituals required to speed off their loved ones.  They immersed the ashes in the holy Ganges.  In their dream their parents had asked them to gift their silver swing with Bal Gopal to little Bobby their little playmate whom they had enjoyed during transition.

Bobby was in seventh heaven as now the secret room was thrown open and made into his playroom.  He slept with the Balgopal by his bedside.  His elderly friends no longer played with him.  They were resting in peace.

pictures from internet- not mine

Certain event triggerd a whole set of memories and
 I suddenly recalled my own brush with a v. persistent LoveStruckRomeo (LSR).
This happened 30 years ago approx.  I was working in International Operations at a Bank and was about give or take seven months pregnant.  At that time, my hubby had to go to Egypt for some project work urgently that he could not postpone.  It so happened that the day he left for the land of Nile, an Egyptian male made an entry into my life by way of a bank officer in training.
  He was quite personable and okay sort of a person but somehow after meeting me a couple of times he got hung up on me!
At first I thought it was my imagination and I even asked my colleagues at work, but they too assured me that it did appear like a case of loveria!!!
This Egyptian Tut was in fact always lurking about in my environ ready to catch my eye.  I was quite mystified that here I was like a little baby elephant with a huge stomach wondering what this lovestuckromeo saw in me.  He was always underfoot with a rose in hand every day, jumping to open doors etc. To avoid him or hide , the office folks took to alerting me via the doorman or mail clerk or the front desk secretary would call my extn. To update me on his whereabouts  so that I could hide myself or duck in another office.

He would sing (songs) chansons in French which he spoke fluently, or recite poetry etc. and I was a bit embarrassed by all this attn from this Egyptian Tut.  I was in fact getting a bit frantic but did not wish to make any trouble for him job wise.  The irony of the situation was that possibly my hubby was enjoying dinner and belly dancing at some exotic Egyptian restaurant with all manner of exotic Arabian dancers hovering over him and crooning “Maiyya Maiyya” in Arabic  and here at home a young Egyptian male was in hot pursuit of me.

Since then I have never met or heard of any man being attracted or having a fetish for pregnant women.
To get my mind off my LSR woes, my friends at work bought tickets for dinner and a show at a real fancy dinner- dance place and persuaded me to come along as well. I did not need too much coaxing as I was at a loose end most evenings and so went along.  The dinner was superb and then the show started.  I was in for a real shock and a treat.  This was the year 1979 that I am talking about.  The show was of male go-go dancers and my eyes simply popped out of my sockets. At first I was a bit embarrassed but after a glass of wine, I kind of mellowed out and began to enjoy myself- sort of going with the flow.  Of course all the firengi gals were having a blast and dancing around and whistling etc…At all the eye candy with six to eight pack abs on display and lots n lots of hip movements to boot.

 In my mind, I kind of liked the idea of this role reversal-as usually we see exotic girls doing pole dancing and other stuff but here it was a bunch of young muscular guys.  It was an eye-opener for me  and I also wondered a bit guiltily if the baby knew what was going on as usually I did my ohm chanting  and other religious stuff to impart good thoughts etc to the baby and this was a real extreme opposite and way out stuff for me. Also I felt a whole spectrum of emotions- a bit of shock, a bit of fear,
a bit of guilty pleasure all rolled into one with my pulse racing as never before!!

Luckily after a couple of months my LSR was transferred to another branch and my hubby had returned home safely and all was well in my little world.

picture from internet  

A Journey- a Connection

Sometimes, certain journeys are like a renaissance painting, a bit blurred but pleasant on the eye and soul soothing.  Such were the trips we’d made consecutively a few years ago during our visit to India.

My sister has great faith in this particular Devi shrine in Himachal and both times she was delighted to have us n make it a family outing.

We piled into a Tata Sumo van in wee hours.  Bro-in-law’s  best friend Jay likes to drive.  After invoking  Hindu god Ganesh and   goddess shakti also knowns as “devi” we were on our way.  Jay is a diehard fan of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan hence out of his copious pockets he withdrew some tapes and we were treated to some soulful sufi music.   We were entranced.  The mood was set for the trip.

I have absolutely no road sense, so will only dwell on what my mind captured on these trips.  On our way after several hours, I recall having a sumptuous meal at a  (roadside diner)   Dhaba.  Then we were climbing the mountains and the hairpin curves around white limestone/sandstone cliffs were rather daunting.  Luckily none of us was nauseous and then we had halted midway up the mountain at a Shiva shrine inside a cave.  This was a natural cave temple of Trilokpur containing a stalactite and stalagamite dedicated to Shiva. High on the ridge of the cave we saw the ruins of a palace and baradari (audience hall). Ihe Shiva temple was very ancient and we had to bend very low to enter this shrine.  Outside, there was a lovely waterfall(banganga) and I felt this is how mount Kailash would be with Ganga flowing out of the Shiva locks as he meditated.

  After paying due obeisance we were on our way reluctant to leave as it was very peaceful high up in the mountains. The Kangra valley is one of the most picturesque valleys of lower Himalayas. Ancient Hindu Temples like Bajreshwari Devi, Chamunda Devi, Baijnath Shiv temple and Jwala Devi ji dot the country side. The valley, sheltered by the sublime Dhauladhar range, is green and luxuriant. It provides a tremendous contrast in nature.

I recall visiting the various “Devi” shrine during these trips. The one place that completely enchanted me was this ancient shrine of Mata called Bagalamukhi.    The Bankhandi temple is located on the Dehra-Dharamsala road, Kangra. There had been a rock fall and a good portion had fallen inwards inside the cave itself.  The inner sanctorum was intact and the caretakers had built a small entrance and veranda around it.  Belief had it that whatever boon you ask there will be fulfilled.  My sister firmly believed in it after a narrow escape and her husband had promised  the Devi that he would return to give thanks and hold a langar (lunch)for the local children and their families. 

After due respects everyone was busy mustering up the locals and preparing for the langar feast.  I absorbed the peace and tranquility of the place.  It was incredible.  The aura and the vibrations were amazing.  Mercifully there were no crowds and in fact at that time we were the only ones there.  I was allowed to sit in the inner sanctorum and the bliss was tangible.  I closed my eyes and meditated.  I was transported.  It was almost an out of body experience.  I was floating and drawn towards the deity. Peace descended on my bruised spirit like a soothing salve.  The Mother had taken me in her arms and removed all my hurts absorbing them and filling the void with love.  I was in a blissful state.  had journeyed within and without. This shrine’s power was quite potent and I felt it fully. I cherish this experience holding it close to my heart.

*In Hinduism, Bagalamukhi or Bagala is one of the ten mahavidya goddesses. Bagalamukhi Devi smashes the devotee’s misconceptions and delusions by her cudgel. She is also known as Pitambara in Northern Parts of India. (wiki)

**Kangra HP, rich in culture and history is sheltered by the massive Dhauladhar range of mountains and this majestic mountain range surpasses all others in its grandeur The history of Kangra valley dates back to vedic times, more than 3,500 years ago. It finds mention in the Puranas the Mahabharta and in Rajtarangani. Kangra valley is one of the most picturesque valleys in the Himalayas. The famous Bajeshwari Devi temple is located in the town.  Kangra town is situated at the confluence of the Baner and Majhi streams, overlooking the Banganga torrent famous for temples, forts and now a speedily emerging as a business centre. There are two other important Hill stations in district Kangra known as Dharamsala and Palampur. All in all, Kangra with a numerous important temples is a great destination for people looking to go on a religious holiday escape.

Dharamshala is full of Buddhist air and McLeod Ganj is Dalai Lama’s official residence, and home to several Buddhist monasteries and thousands of Tibetan refugees.  We got a taste of mini Tibet here.  The shrine of Budhha was very majestic and peaceful. (Source-internet)

pics. from internet

   
 
Sikkim, my beloved home is indeed a Shangri La and it is doubly dear now that I’ve met my love here.  Thank God for the swine flu outbreak overseas that made Sikkim her choice for vacation instead of Europe.

  
 
Sunaina (Guddi) was aptly named as she had large doe shaped eyes with gold flecks, light brown hair to match and a svelte figure.  Her coloring was wheatish with a perfect nose and lips.  Overall her features were well sculpted and hailing from a robust sport loving family from Punjab, she was in fine form and disgustingly healthy.  Even her back breaking routine as a medical student had not made a dent in her stunning looks. She was a beauty in every sense of the word and was used to guys falling head over heels in love with her.  Tom and Jerry as she lovingly called her two older brothers Sunil and Kapil both hockey players kept her under their watchful eyes and no one dared to misbehave with their little sister “Guddi” (doll).  Guddi was effervescent and bubbly and her only fault was she loved challenges so much so that she got into many scrapes.
 
Kunal (KK) was from Gangtok, the capital of Sikkim.  He found the spirit of sports all around him as he was born into a family with many well known sportspersons including Sikkim Royalty.  KK took up the game of Archery at a tender age and emerged as an excellent Archer and his illustrious career culminated when he was honored with the Arjuna Award by the Government of India.  He became a household name after winning the Olympic Gold medal.  KK was quiet by nature.  He was fairly tall at five feet ten and had an athletic body due to a five mile run every morning.  His face had a haunting quality, with dark brooding eyes that had the stillness of a deep thinker.  His looks were swarthy and his eyes had a hint of slant that added to his intriguing persona.  His looks beckoned and held yet did not encourage.  He was an introvert yet once people got to know him they loved him lifelong.  He was true and loyal to a fault.  Unspoiled by his success, he was down to earth and took it all in his stride.  Besides archery, he was a writer and had written many books under the pen name “Shivam”.  His books sold well and fetched handsome royalties.  Besides which his family owned property and a couple of restaurants and travel business in the state.  They were an entity in Sikkim.  He had one elder sister Pema Kusho who was married and lived in Katmandu, Nepal.  One odd thing about him was that even though local girls and others chased him around and sent alluring feelers, he did not trust anyone.  He had a deep seated fear of betrayal in love.   His parents knew better and did not force marriage on him either.  They felt he needed to find a soul mate himself.  They however hopefully rang bells and made wishes whenever they visited Buddhist monasteries.  They were eager for a grandchild.

 
Guddddiiii! Her friends jeered.  “We dare you to make that runner fall in love with you! They had challenged.  None of them was aware of KK’s identity and had only seen him run every morning like clockwork and they had seen his agile body and impassive face and had fallen for him.  Guddi (Sunaina) was here for two weeks with her childhood friends Pia and Sia who were fraternal twins.  Together they created quite a ruckus and folks usually smiled at their boisterous ways.  Guddi said “No Problem. He will be eating out of my hand long before our vacation is over!”  She planned well for her “love game” (shikaar).

Next morning wearing her jogging suit, light makeup and ponytail she ran headlong into KK.  Her onward rush knocked them both off their feet and they fell down in a heap.  Brushing themselves they got up and apologized profusely to each other!  KK said “Please let me make up for this and take you out for lunch!”  Guddi was delighted! Her plan had succeeded.  KK had thought it had been his fault! She shook hands and promised to meet at the nearby restaurant and triumphantly entered her hotel.  Pia and Sia pounced on her and seeing her gloating smile they understood.  She said she had been invited for lunch.  They giggled collectively.  Guddi wanted to look her best and hence pulled out the beautiful sheath dress that she had purchased in the local market that enhanced her beauty manifold.  She was a knockout in that dress and soon went for her rendezvous.

KK could not stop chiding himself.  “Why did I have to call her for lunch? What has come over me?  I should’ve apologized profusely and come away! Why can’t I stop thinking about her? He questioned himself.  He decided to be polite and not give away to his feelings.  He had to collect himself and be calm.  His heart seemed to have a mind of its own. 
Lunch was an eye opener for the both of us.  After I had literally floored him with my brush, why do I feel floored now?  I seem to be drowning in his deep mesmerizing eyes!  He is an exotic bird of this wonderful Shangri La and I know the family back home would be shocked by my choice! But this time, I feel I have really fallen hard.  I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, my hands and eyes are fluttery and I cannot stop wondering about him.  I wonder how he feels about me. O God! What is happening to me? Is this love?  It is painful, so it must be real.

I was so excited that I was finally going to meet her.  Now my tongue is tied in knots.  Am I psyching myself to shine in her eyes?  Why can’t I string two words together?  And I consider myself a writer.  If this is love then I am surely doomed!

KK and Guddi had a silent lunch broken by intermittent monosyllables
Both felt strong emotional undercurrents.

The only good thing that came about during lunch was that Guddi came to know KK was a national hero and a celebrity in his own right and the restaurant staff and owner felt honored by his patronage.   This fact filled her with joy.  She also felt relieved inside!

During the next ten days, KK and Guddi came to know each other well and shared all their feelings and emotions.  They became inseparable as they were totally in love.  KK’s parents were delighted and came to love and accept Guddi wholeheartedly.  Pia and Sia tactfully left them alone and were secretly happy for their beloved friend.  They too came to know and love KK.  Now all of them were keeping their fingers crossed as the last hurdle was to get a blessing from Guddi’s family.  They felt that would be a hard nut to crack!

http://www.binaguptapoetry.com/the-lovers-part-ii-mirza-sahiban-1022.htm

Guddi was in seventh heaven after she came to know that her beloved author “Shivam” was her KK!  She had read every single book written by him.  She longed for her parents to meet KK in person as she knew they would be impressed by him.  KK and his family were scheduled to arrive in Delhi the following week to attend a formal dinner at the Rashtrapati Bhawan (Presidential palace) that was being given to honor India’s Olympic team and the Republic Day honoraries.  KK’s family was planning to meet with Guddi’s parents during this visit. 

The families met and liked each other but still the Singh family balked at this alliance mainly due to the “Gurkha” hilly features of the Kusho family even though they were impressed by the diluted royal bloodline.
They had reached an impasse.

Guddi quietly took KK to the local gurudwara whose head priest was her friend and right from her childhood had been her confidante and consoler.  She felt he would help them out.

The head priest and seer, a realized holy man was revered by the local community.  His words were treated with due respect and reverence.
He liked Guddi and KK at first glance and knew they belonged together.  He looked into their eyes and liked what he saw.  He gave them his blessings and asked them to return with their parents within the hour. 

The two families met the priest in his private chamber and what he told them, startled them all.

***
  Story of Mirza-Sahiba

The Lord of the Jatts – Mirza Jatt – The Archer of the Archers. The Jatt of the Jatts.
And Sahiba the beautiful love lorn soul.

 
Mirza and Sahiban were first cousins as he was sahiba’s mother’s brother’s son. They fell in love with each other. But she was  forcibly being made to wed Tahar Khan instead, by her parents. Sahiba at once sends a taunting message to Mirza, whom she loves, at his village Danabad, through a Brahmin called Kammu.
 It said:

“You must come and decorate Sahiban’s hand with the marriage henna.”

Mirza Khan was the son of Wanjhal Khan, the leader of the Kharal tribe in Danabad, a town in the Jaranwala area of Faisalabad, Pakistan. Sahiba was the daughter of Mahni, the chief of Khewa, a town in Sial Territory in the Jhang district Punjab,Pakistan. Mirza was sent to his relatives’ house in Khewa to study, where he met Sahiba and they fell in love. Her family opposed the relationship, and instead arranged a marriage with a member of the Chadhar family.

In those times people valued their self respect and love, kept their promises, and sacrificed life for truth. Mirza arrived on his horse, Bakki the night before the wedding and secretly carried her away, planning to elope. Sahiba’s brothers got to know about this and decided to follow them. On the way, as Mirza lies under the shade of a tree to rest for a few moments, Sahiba’s brothers caught up with them.

Sahiba was a virtuous and a beautiful soul who did not desire any bloodshed to mar the one she loved. She did not want her hands drenched in blood instead of henna. She thinks Mirza cannot miss his target, and if he strikes, her brothers would surely die. Before waking up Mirza, Sahiban breaks his arrows so he can’t use them. She presumes on seeing her, her brothers would feel sorry and forgive Mirza and take him in their arms. Now Sials and Chandarhs arrive and surround Mirza Jatt. Mirza Jatt gets his Mighty Sword out and starts defending himself but he is one against many. Despite being alone, he fights like a Mighty Warrior and a ferocious Lion but is eventually outnumbered.  Mirza Jatt is hit on the back fatally by Chandarh Jatts and The Great Mirza Jatt Kharral dies.  Sahiba is grief stricken and mourns the death of her lover.  It is said that she died on the spot out of shock and remorse at what she had done. Other’s say Sahiban slaughtered herself with a sword and thus bid farewell to this world.
 
 
Meanwhile Mirza’s Family, mother and sister mourn as the horse Bakki reaches Danabad without Mirza and they come to know the entire story.  Mirza’s Family soon reach the spot where both Mirza and Sahiba lay dead.
 
Mirza Jatt and Sahiba Jatti were buried together and their graves still exist in West Punjab. Sahiba died on the spot but Mirza the supreme Jatt became Immortal forever, in the hearts and minds of the Jatt People. 

***

Some say that Mirza’s horse Bakki was from Shri Guru Gobind Singh’s (10th sikh guru)horse’s blood line. Mirza sahiba’s story is the only story where the guy’s name comes first and then the girl’s. Mirza’s love was greater like a steady flame whilst her’s wavered for both her family and lover.

Mirza–Sahiban is a treasure of Punjabi literature. It is a romantic tragedy

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The priest then revealed that both the families were the reincarnated Jatt families of Mirza Sahiban and after many lifetimes it was ordained that justice had to be finally served and the two souls had to united. 

The Singhs were rather shook up and quietly agreed without any further reservations.  The lovers were elated.

Note: mirza sahibaan’s story and pictures are from internet only

Neil’s Reincarnation- Ageless Love

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Part two: Amber’s Reincarnation

http://www.binaguptapoetry.com/ambers-reincarnation-997.htm

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Neil, the famous mad sculptor was an obsessed man. Ever since he could recall, every night when he slept, he felt he was drowning  desperately trying to breathe and save his love and himself from a watery grave.  He would get up, wet and shivering and his hands would itch to etch that beloved face.  Gradually he started sculpting that face and form that haunted and lived with him night and day.   He only drew, painted and sculpted that one particular face on every surface, material that he could lay his hands on!!  His family would collect his finished pieces and after his permission would sell them at a local gallery where his work was in great demand.  Thus his family and he survived on this dream love of his.   Valentine’s day was in two weeks’ time and he had been commissioned by his teacher who was also his guide and master to sculpt a piece that could be entered in the national competition as its prize money was half a million plus a trip to USA for entry into international art competition.    He was very keen to sculpt something unique and was looking for inspiration… 

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Sohni was the daughter of a potter named Tula, who lived in a Gujrat town in the Punjab near the banks of the Chenab on the caravan trade route between Bukhara and Delhi during late Mughal period.
 
As soon as the ‘Surahis’ (water pitchers) and mugs came off the wheels, Sohni etched floral designs transforming them into masterpieces of art.

Izzat Baig, the rich trader from Bukhara (Uzbekistan), came to India on business but when he saw the beautiful Sohni in the town of Gujrat on the Chenab in Punjab, he was completely enchanted. Instead of keeping ‘mohars’ (gold coins) in his pockets, he roamed around with his pockets full of love. Just to get a glimpse of Sohni, he would end up buying the water pitchers and mugs everyday.
Sohni lost her heart to Izzat Baig. Instead of making floral designs on earthenware, she started building castles of love in her dreams. Izzat Baig sent off his companions to Bukhara. He took up the job of a servant in the house of Tula, Sohni’s father. He would even take their buffaloes for grazing. Soon, he came to be known as “Mahiwal”(buffalo herder).  That name stayed with him for the rest of his life — and thereafter. 

When the people started spreading rumors about the love of Sohni and Mahiwal, without her consent her parents arranged her marriage with another potter.
Suddenly, one day his “barat” (marriage party) arrived at the threshold of her house. Sohni was helpless and in a poignant state. Her parents bundled her off in the doli (palanquin), but they could not pack off her love in any doli (box).
Izzat Baig renounced the world and started living like a “fakir” (hermit) in a small hut across the river. The earth of Sohni’s land was like a dargah (shrine) for him. He had forgotten his own land, his own people and his world. Taking advantage of the darkness of the night, when the world was fast asleep, Sohni would come by the riverside and Izzat Baig would swim across the river to meet her. He would regularly roast a fish and bring it for her. It is said that once, when due to high tide he could not catch a fish, Mahiwal cut a piece of his thigh and roasted it. Seeing the bandage on his thigh, Sohni opened it, saw the wound and cried.
From the next day, Sohni started swimming across the river with the help of an earthen pitcher as Izzat Baig was so badly wounded and could not swim across the river. Soon, the rumours of their romantic rendezvous spread. One-day Sohni’s sister-in-law followed her and saw the hiding place where Sohni used to keep her earthen pitcher among the bushes. Next day, the sister-in-law removed the hard baked pitcher replacing it with an unbaked one. That night, when Sohni tried to cross the river with the help of the pitcher, She discovered, to her horror, that the pitcher had begun to dissolve and disintegrate.
What shall she do now? Different thoughts rushed through Sohni’s mind. Abandon the trip?   Or continue trying to swim without the help of a pitcher — and drown? Her inner struggle at this point is  expressed

 translated   into a song  as follows:

Sohni (addressing the pitcher):

It’s dark and the river is in flood
There is water all around me
How am I going to meet Mahiwal?
If I keep going, I will surely drown
And if I turn back
I would be going back on my promise
And letting Mahiwal down
I beg you (O pitcher!), with folded hands,
Help me meet my Mahiwal
You always did it, please do it tonight, too

(The pitcher replies):

I wish I, too, were baked in the fire of love, like you are
But I am not. I apologize; I cannot help
Hearing Sohni’s cries, Mahiwal, from the other side, jumped into the river to save her. He barely managed to reach her. As the story goes, their bodies were washed ashore, and were found the next day, lying next to each other.  With their death, Sohni and Mahiwal entered into the world of legends and lore. And, in their death the sinners became saints.

The Tomb Of Sohni In Shahdapur City Sindh, which is 75 km from Hyderabad, Pakistan. According to the legend the bodies of Sohni Mahiwal were recovered from river Indus near Shahdapur and hence are buried there.

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The border between India and Pakistan had been opened and many Indians were allowed to visit historical places and also the old homes of their ancestors.  Neil’s family hailed from Uzbekistan and a few members had settled in Sindh, Pakistan.  Eagerly he boarded the ship for Karachi, Sindh.  After sightseeing to his heart’s content the cab- driver suggested that as the tomb of the famous lovers Sohni- Mahiwal was very near- would he like to see it and Neil agreed and he had time to spare before his family returned from another place.    The minute Neil entered the tomb, he felt very much at home and his agonized spirit was at once at peace.  He had arrived at his destiny.  He felt he was very close to his beloved.  Then he saw the numerous paintings on the wall of Sohni and Mahiwal and it was like déjà vu-  Mahiwal looked just like him and the face and figure he had been drawing all his life was Sohni!!!.  At once he  felt that itching in his fingers and he needed to carve something quickly.  He cut short his trip and they returned home.  Neil shut himself up in his studio and emerged after three days drained but elated.  This was his best work yet.  He had sculpted the figures of Sohni and Mahiwal in the throes of love, embracing one another and the two faces showed the ecstasy and peace of union of two loving souls and kindred spirits.  The sculpture was mesmerizing as though crafted by cupid himself!!

He won both national and international prizes.  The dreams stopped too. 

All pictures and  Sohni- Mahiwal info from internet- not mine