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The following is one of those pictures that have stayed in my mind for a very long time. Perhaps because this is one of my favourite flowers, and one of my favourite ways to display this flower. To float one or two or a few of them in a shallow vase or urli filled with water. Simple. Sweet. Pure. Perfect.
That particular evening found me enwrapped in the warmth of her memory. Simple, sweet, pure and perfect. And the words floated in my mind just like the Frangipanis float in water, simply, sweetly. The way her love was and is. In memory of her love, a few words floated by….
A month has gone by, already?
Surely the calendar lies.
I browse through her song diary
Her handwriting comes alive.
In soft tones speaks to my heart,
Listen child, once again to that song she loved,
Read once again that poem she said,
Would speak to me of her truths of life and love.
And so I read, and re-read. Things she jotted down in that diary. Things she didn’t speak about. Things she did speak about but I wasn’t listening back then. And so I re-read. And now I try and listen to the silence through which she speaks now. Through which she sings her song.
This song of mine will wind its music around you, my child, like
the fond arms of love.
This song of mine will touch your forehead like a kiss of
When you are alone it will sit by your side and whisper in
your ear, when you are in the crowd it will fence you about with
My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams, it will
transport your heart to the verge of the unknown.
It will be like the faithful star overhead when dark night is
over your road.
My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes, and will carry
your sight into the heart of things.
And when my voice is silent in death, my song will speak in
your living heart.
~ Rabindranath Tagore
Life is indeed a song full of love and memories!
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