Spiritual Love
SMRITI SHEKHAR Mitra
Asansol, West Bengal
Amal's body is terribly worn out today,
A fever from some time ago still hasn't left him.
How many doctors, how many remedies, all goes in vain.
Amal stands holding the window grill,
With an endless wonder in his eyes.
How long has it been since he heard the curd seller’s call,
"Curd! Curd! Good curd!"
The curd seller stands there like a statue,
Beside Amal's window.
Amal, a friend of his coming and going…
He listens attentively to his words.
Answering the same question of Amal's a thousand times,
He finds joy in it.
Still, he likes it,
Wondering when a letter will come from the king,
To answer the same question a thousand times.
He reassures Amal with words of comfort.
"Your letter is halfway here.
In a day or two, you will
Receive the king’s invitation letter."
Waiting for the king's letter, Amal
Sits lost in thought by the window.
Amal also knows that Sudha brings him
A garland of jasmine flowers
Every dawn.
Sudha is his dearest well-wisher, the one who loves him.