â€œWhether I should jump off?â€ Arjun whispers.
The rescue operation is over and till now they have recovered 8 bodies. There is no hope of life under the water.
He lost everything with the hope to live after the accident. He was about to jump off and he felt someone pulling at his pants. He turned; a little girl was standing.
Itâ€™s now 20 years from then.
Arjun is again standing on that bridge, the bus stops and a girl comes running towards him.
â€œPapa, I am a doctor now.â€
Tears of joy rolled down from his eyes.
Against the backdrop of the Himalayan foothills beneath the heavenly blue sky, she sits knitting spreading the colourful balls of yarn above the soft velvety green grass. End of summer with the beginning of autumn brings a smile on her face.
She knitted through the seasons, picking up colours from nature to weave imaginations into the woollen scarf to sing along. Singing loud to her memories and humming to the tune of the chirping cuckoos. The puzzling patterns, she made mistakes at the beginning, but nothing could stop her. She wove it again interweaving wings into her dreams.
Youth has gone, while walking around Poovar to which his handful of memories are attached, of summer and friendship; he becomes nostalgic.
The serene beauty of the Neyyar which passes into the Arabian Sea during the high tides, the banana and mango gardens behind the cottage where he and Nilam spent their stolen moments from the world, playing, giggling, smelling the flower and telling summer stories.
Lying upon the grass under wide-open summer sky he closes his eyes thinking of all the disappeared good times; a 100 summers he has passed longing for her touch.
As soon as the first rays of sun brighten the green valley, Arun took his cycle to ride it through the long black pitch road to join others for an early morning plucking of tea leaves.
Arun is one of those tea-garden laborers who breaks his back under the scorching sun or on a rainy day to bring you a cup of happiness in the morning, a refreshment during the work hours and a companion for the long conversations.
In return, he gets constant struggle with Poverty and the addiction of local liquor and debts to accompany him.
Holding the red rose, her smile broadens.
â€œHappy Valentines Day my love,â€ He wishes.
â€œAfter all these years, you never forget to make me happy about it,â€ She said.
â€œNo! You were tough to impress,â€ he smirks.
She was fragile, he was strong. She was like rain and he was the thunderstorm. She was in love with the morning light, but he insists darkness has brighter side. She was a booklover but she was the only book he read.
They are different yet so same, holding the hands for 30 years they are still growing in impulse of love.
An old picture caught the attention of this old manâ€™s hazy sight. Megha has been just 2 years when he clicked that picture.
After the death of his wife she became the source of reason to live his life, holding those little hands he grew up. She is now happily married leading her life in a foreign land. She arranged for his stay in this old age home where he can pass his senility. He understands she is happy in her new life and thatâ€™s what makes him happy too, even when he is on death bed.