Sanctified- A SwaSan TS- Final Parts Updated

Hey all,

As many of you know I have struggled with the present track. Below is my latest attempt at what will be a relatively short Three Shot (max Four Shot if I do an epilogue). This is very experimental for me; I think it is totally different to my usual work and style for a variety of reasons so am rather fearful of this one! Basically, the plot outline is extremely simple. I cannot at present deal with high drama, given what we are seeing on the show. Most of you know I like my detailed plot lines but if you look for this here, it doesn't exist. Timeline here is that Lakshya has been exposed and the kidnapping drama has ended. The details of all of that will not be delved into and there are no daayans or daayan dances or anything remotely supernatural. We have to visualise all that never happened although the kidnapping did.

I wanted to explore what would happen post-kidnapping. When Swara was being blamed again about her character it made me furious and I wanted her to leave MM. The idea took root there but I have now significantly modified. Effectively, this all takes place in the almost immediate aftermath of the kidnapping reveal. I wanted to explore how SwaSan move on from that and what the dynamics would be. So what you will get is a very simple telling more of feelings and conversations between SwaSan rather than a complicated tale.

Also, as any who read my work know, save the Despatches Series I write in the third person as narrator myself. In this, I am writing in the first person, mainly from Swara's perspective but also Sanskaar's in part. Credit for mixing this in with my plot goes to Medha- love ya sis as thanks not allowed! I was thinking since a long time to explore Swara's trust issues and her rather odd psyche a bit better so that is my overall aim here. Plus, I have never before written a letter in Hindi so that is a big risk for me but as part of how I do dialogues I felt the letter had to follow the same format!

As I said, it is all rather a trial so if it is disappointing, I am sorry to you all. Part 1 is below, I am working on the next but the full story will have to be worked on in the week- apologies but I have been struggling for time. Please let me know, even if the feedback this time is bad- as I am rather apprehensive! Thank you all as ever! PS: Will edit soon so forgive typos etc!

SANCTIFIED

Part 1- The Power in a Sorry!

Maheshwari Mansion

Swara:

I stared at the piece of paper I had been writing on, which was now marked in places with smudges from my tears, blurring the ink in places, rather like I had done with the boundaries that should have governed my life really. I had to carry on and forced myself to voice the turmoil that was now erupting forth like molten lava on paper, much like the streams of tears that recently seemed to have no beginning or end. I missed that pristine white handkerchief which I had come to so depend on over the past many months, to help stem the flood, and perhaps more so, that warm chocolate brown gaze that would meet mine whilst the soft cloth would gently be used to wipe my tears. Best not to think about that though- this letter must be finished as I had a journey to undertake, in more ways than the literal.

After what seemed like hours but belied by the hands of the clock as a much shorter passage, I looked at the finished outpouring. I did not have to re-read it, the words were as if branded on my very soul, redolent of the memories of him, which I somehow knew in this moment would also stay so imprinted forever on my psyche. Shutting my eyes in despair as if to squeeze out the remaining final rivulets that I knew had to now be dammed if I wanted to at least appear human to the rest of the world. I carefully folded the sheets and sealed them in the envelope and with a lancing pain in my heart, wrote his name on the missive, the strokes made by the pen akin to lacerations by the sharpest knife on my conscience. With a final look around the room that had changed me from girl to woman without me even realising, I took a deep breath and then lifting my case, walked out with leaden steps, leaving part of me behind forever.

Sanskaar:

I knew something was wrong, even more so than had already gone awry recently, if that was even possible. I have always been a realist and fanciful feelings of dread either pass me by, put off by my will and practical approach, or I have never before succumbed to their morbid pull I suppose. All this changed though since the advent of Swara into my heart and life. Since I gave into love for her, I opened the floodgates to all sorts of inconvenient emotions and feelings. It was as if she had created some form of invisible shield around her and myself, realism and practicality seemed to simply rebound off it and disappear into the ether. As soon as I stepped out from this metaphorical bulwark, sense reigned supreme for me, but when enveloped by her aura, only my senses and no sense seemed to operate effectively.

When people spoke of such love before, I used to mentally scoff at them. Oh, I had loved Kavita deeply and when she was so cruelly snatched from me, the grief almost unhinged me. It certainly made me behave more basely than I would have thought possible and thirst for revenge like some form of demented creature of the pit, intent on destruction and savagery. However, I see now how different my love for Kavita was to what I feel for Swara. After all the pain caused to me by Swara, or through Swara whether directly or indirectly, it has never raised in me a propensity to harm others. Ironically, I have realised that when pain is not projected outwards in senseless reaction, it causes far more agony. The shards from a breaking heart, if aimed towards others after all pierce them and not your own being, stabbing and lodging inwards. No, Swara brought out the best in me, whether in good times or bad, but in doing so, caused me endless torment as doing right is always harder than giving into the pull of the easier but less righteous path. I had reached my old room, which was now hers, bearing her indelible mark forever. I knocked at the door but got no answer, which in itself was puzzling, as she was clearly not downstairs. The feeling of unease that had gripped me when I had arrived earlier and been greeted by vacant blank stares from my mother when I asked where Swara was, intensified. Abandoning my usual reserve in standing outside until she gave me leave out of some instinct, I entered and glanced around the bereft room. The bathroom door too was ajar and an almost eerie silence prevailed, confirming she was not here. Just as I was about to leave, my glance fell on the dresser where a white envelope was prominently placed, weighted by her little ornate box which held the red vermillion that not only streaked her parting each day, but marked the real start of my marriage with her in its truest sense. I looked at my name etched on the white surface and knew that what lay inside portended something significant. I opened the lightly sealed flap and with my heart now thudding, read what she had written, in her delicate, flowing script.

Sanskaar,

Mujhe pata hai ke iss khat main joh bhi likha hai woh mujhe tumse khud kehna chahiye tha. Lekin abh mujme itni himmat nahi hai ke main tumse nazre milasakoon. Mujhe nahi pata ke main kya kahoon. Tum mujse bahut naraaz ho, aur tumhe hona bhi chahiye. Aakhir tumnhe hamare rishte ko ek naya makaam diya tha, lekin main apni bewakufiyon ki wajay se patni toh kya, tumhari dost kehlaneke bhi layaak nahi rahi.

Isiliye maine faisla kiya hai ke mujhe yahan se jaana chahiye. Main jaanti hoon ke tumne mujse kall raat joh bhi kaha, joh bhi sawaal kiye, tum uske jawaab ka intezaar kar rahe hoge. Lekin Sanskaar, main khud hi itna bada sawaal banke rehgayi hoon, ke kisi aur ki uljan sirf badha sakti hoon, suljah nahi. Tumne sahi kaha tha. Sach toh yeh hai ke mujhe rishton ki pehchaan hai hi nahi. Maine aakhir rishton ke barein me seekha hi kuch aisa hai. Maa aur Baba ko dekhlo. Unko milane ke baad bhi mujhe andar hi andar yeh darr hamesha rehta hai ke kabhi shaayad phir se Baba ne Maa par bharosa nahi kiya to? Yeh baat maine aaj tak khud se bhi nahi ki, lekin tumse kehna aasan sa hai. Phir mera aur Laksh ka rishta dekhlo. Baba ka pyaar toh kabhi mila nahi aur jisse pyaar socha tha usme bhi mila toh eik dhoka hi na. Uppar se Ragini aur mera risita - main samajthi thi ke woh alag tha. Beheno ke pyaar main toh dil toot hi nahi sakta na? Lekin wahan kya hua woh tum atchi tarah se jaante ho.

Sabh ne mera dil toda aur maine tumhara. Shaayad kuch logon ki kismat main pyaar uss saahil aur aakash ti tara hai- jitna uske peeche bhago woh doorse dikhta toh hai, lekin chua nahi jaa sakta. Main jaanti hoon ke maine tumhara dil bahut dukhaya hai Sanksaar. Ho sake toh mujhe maaf kardo. Mujhe pyaar se darr lagta hai aur main apni yeh kashmakash ke saath joonj rahi hoon, abh tumhe bhi tadapta nahi dekh sakti.

Ek aur wajay bhi hai yahan se jaane ki. Abh Laksh ka sach sabke saamne agaya hai. Ragini ke saath kya hoga main nahi jaanti. Mere khayaal se woh zaroor Baadi laut jayegi aur ghar ke bade aage ka faisla lenge. Lekin mujpar joh ilzaam lagaye gaye the uske baad, mere liye bhi yahan se chale jaane ke siway aur koi chaara nahi hai. Main kisiko dosh nahi de rahi hoon, lekin abh waqt agaya hai ke main apni self respect ko bhi kuch ahemiyat doon. Woh bhi tumhari hi kahi baat se mujhe ehsaas hua- ke main sabke baare main sochte sochte apne aap koh iss tara kho behthi ke abh mujhe hi dhoondna mushkil ho gaya hai.

Main jaanti hoon ke tum phir se nahi sunna chahte lekin please Sanskaar, mujhe kehne do. I am really really sorry. Sorry kehne se meri galtiyaan nahi mitengi. Maine tumpar bharosa na karke shayaad galti se zyaada gunnah kiya hai. Tumhe mere liye joh kiya usko to labzon main yah iss letter main bayaan nahi kiya jasakta par tum maano ya nahi, mujhe ehsaas hai. Tum meri zindage main aise aaye ke jaise koi toofan, aur tum hi phir uss toofan main mera eklauta sahara bann gaye. Maine hamare rishto ko dosti ka darja dediya kyun ke uss rishte ke peeche main chup sakti thi, aur tumhe apne saath bhi rakhsakti thi. Main joh apne aap ko sab ke liye kurbaan karne main maanti hoon, tumhare barein main maine khudgarzi ki hadd parr kardi, aur tumne hamesha mujhe karne di. Haan main selfish hoon Sanskaar- kisi aur ke barein main kabhi dil hi nayi kiya, khayaal bhi nahi aaya, lekin tumhare baarein main, bilkul- main maanti hoon. Main tumhe nahi khona chahti thi, lekin yeh samaj bhi nahi paayi ke main kya mehsoos karti hoon. Abhi bhi theek se nahi samajti. Itna jaanti hoon ke tumhe abh aur dard nahi desakti jabke maine baar baar tumse itni nainsaafi ki. Tumne phir bhi mujhe sahara diya, pyaar diya. Lekin main tumhare pyaar ke layaak hi nahi Sanskaar. Please mujhe samajne ki koshish karna Sanskaar. Main tumhare saath bitayi harr ek yaad hamesha apne saath rakhungi. Hamne sorry aur thank you na kehna bahut pehle teir kiya tha lekin yahan sorry toh zarrori hai hi, thank you bhi utna hi hai. Apna khyaal rakhna Sanskaar, mere liye please?

Swara.

The pain flared up with such force, I doubled over the dresser with the agony of it, clutching those precious few sheets, as if they were her. I had pushed her too far too soon. Now, I had to make it right somehow.

"Sorry means you leave yourself open, to embrace or to ridicule or to revenge. Sorry is a question that begs forgiveness, because the metronome of a good heart won't settle until things are set right and true. Sorry doesn't take things back, but it pushes things forward. It bridges the gap. Sorry is a sacrament. It's an offering. A gift." Craig Silvey- Jasper Jones

Dear patient readers and friends,

Part 3 is complete and posted as is a short Epilogue below. As I explained before, this is an experimental effort. It contains no elaborate plot and some of you may have noticed, it only really deals with SwaSan. I have made very passing reference to other characters but none of them has so much as one line to say in the entirety of this story. I deliberately wanted this to be just about SwaSan and how they deal with their lives post kidnap-madness! I do hope I haven't disappointed but I am genuinely worried about this one so do let me know; your feedback is always very valuable. Lots of love always.

PS: I have final edits to make but am running short of time this evening so will get to it asap. Please bear with me.

Part 3: Redemption and Resurrection

"Any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep." Clive Barker, Days of Magic, Nights of War

Assi Ghat, Banaras

Swara

As I looked into his eyes, the world seemed to recede. I couldn't hear the noise and surrounding bustle anymore, his eyes seemed to be pulling me into their velvety depths and I so wanted to drown in them. I was shocked and yet I wasn't. I feared I was hallucinating, but the maelstrom of emotions that only he can rouse in me, tell me this is all too real. Had a part of me not known that he would come for me? Or was that just yearning, rather than knowing? Or perhaps the fervency of my longing for him had conjured him, as though the Gods themselves had deigned to grant me this benediction. Whatever it was, my heart burst into song, it's instinctive reaction one of pure unadulterated joy and relief that he was here and I could see him, touch him, and feel him. However, reason it seems has always been the enemy of happiness for me and it chose to rear its ugly head at that very moment, when I was about to simply surrender to instinct and fall into his arms. Fear smote me- I thought love made you brave but in my case, it seemed to have reduced me to cowardice and mindless dread. I recalled in reverse order the past weeks. I saw myself leaving with that tear drenched letter left as my parting gift, recalled his blistering scorn and anger and saw again those official divorce papers with his authoritative signature scrawled over them. I could see the blank space where I was supposed to sign if my heart was as blank as its empty column. However, as he was now housed in that expanse, filling the void I had lived with all my life, I could no more have signed than I could evict him from the new home he didn't know he had made. What could I say to him?

Sanskaar

I could feel her suddenly stiffening, whereas she had been deliciously pliant before. Her eyes that had seconds ago looked at me with an incredible mix of awe and something else that I hesitated to name yet, were now taking on a stricken look, that in turn stabbed me pangs of renewed misery. As ever, she roused every spectrum of emotion in me within the space of moments. Being with her was always an endless rollercoaster of sensations, beauty and pain endlessly linked and flowing into each other as the Assi flowed into other waters, a seamless congruence which totally assimilated me within it. Brutally suppressing the words of love that clamored for release, I instead took refuge in anger- attack being the best form of defence as they say and whilst knowing that in dealing with her I had no armor, I still grasped at rage to sustain me.

"Challo Swara, bahut natak hogaya, abh nahi, mujhe tumse baat karni hai."I offered no lead in to this abrupt opening statement, seeing her eyes widen at the unexpectedness of this. It made me even more furious when she wrenched her arm out of my grasp at this.

"Sanskaar! Tum yahan kyun aaye ho? Aur tumhe kaise..." she was trying to figure out my sudden appearance and I could see the light dawn in those limpid eyes as she carried on,"Maa ya Dida ne bataya na tumhe?". She was now trying to muster her anger, and it gave me the final impetus I needed to try and shift the weight of all that seemed to be crushing me.

"Tum apne aap ko samajti kya ho Swara? Tumhe andaza bhi hai ke tum istara se letter chod kar bhaag gayi, aur mujpar kya beeti hogi? Maine socha ke tum Baadi main ho, lekin nahi! Tumhe toh Banaras takk ajana tha! Aur yeh sabh ka kya matlab hai? Nahi tumne mujhe jawaab diya, nahi woh papers sign kiye?"

It seemed I had clearly hit a nerve now, her eyes were shooting sparks at me and there were two angry spots of colour on her cheekbones.

"Toh tum unn divorce papers ki wajay se aaye ho? Wah Sanskaar- tumhe itni jaldi hai mujse divorce lene ki?".

I grabbed her by both arms this time, yanking her close, frustrated beyond belief with the nonsense she was daring to spout at me. She glared right back at me, challenging me to do my worst. It seemed that our rage was alive; it danced around us, charging the very air surrounding us with an almost electric pulse. Inconveniently, my senses also chose that exact moment to remind me how beautiful she looked and how much I wanted this ridiculous farce to end once and for all. I saw then that her eyes had again mercurially shifted expression. The indignation and fury were now replaced with a something more tenuous and shockingly, tears welled up in them, threatening to spill over her lashes, although she furiously tried to blink them back. As suddenly as its onset, my anger left me. She could unman me with one single look, touching her was always going to be my undoing. I realised that I was gripping her rather tight, and whilst she seemed not to notice, my own brutishness ashamed me. The protective tenderness that had come over me when I had seen her sitting so desolately now washed over me again, diluting, if not entirely washing away my frustrated anger. I relaxed my hold on her, but did not relinquish it entirely. I wanted to hold onto her and never let her go again.

Swara

He shut his eyes, as if in pain, and I felt his hold on me slacken. It should have been a relief, but I felt a sense of irrational panic instead. I didn't want him to let go off me. I knew he was furious and a second ago, I had been too but talking about those divorce papers had starkly reminded me that I was on stolen time with him. And I didn't think I could bear the parting again. Seeing him again had consolidated all my longing to a solid force that was tearing at my insides, gnawing at my very soul. He had opened those beautiful eyes again, but they now seemed to be looking at me differently. The temper seemed to be overshadowed now with gentleness and concern. I couldn't stop hot hears from scalding my cheeks and tried to move my arm from his hold to dash them away, but he was quicker than I was. I stilled abruptly as he touched me. His thumb gently touched the torment I felt, which was masquerading as my tears.

"Shhshsh,"he was saying, and just like that my old Sanskaar was back. He never could see me cry, my silly heart reminded me. No matter how much I tried to quell the hope that was rising at the expression in his eyes and face as he looked at me, it refused to subside entirely.

I felt as if I was gripped with some strange madness. I really didn't know what I was doing or saying, but I heard my own choked voice babble on,

"Matt poncho inn ansuon ko! Matt dekho iss tara se meri taraf. Kyunke main nahi jaanti ke main tumhe kya jawaab doon! Aur woh papers- main unpar sign nahi karoongi Sanskaar! Tum yahan se chale jao! Main kuch bhi nahi kehna chahti!"

I know this was incoherent and made no sense whatsoever, but as I spoke, his face seemed to lighten, the taut mask he had worn when he arrived seeming to gradually dissipate, revealing more of the Sanskaar I always craved to see. He had a look of wonder on his face.

"Swara- tum divorce nahi chahti ho?"I heard him ask.

My tears were now running unchecked, and I barely noticed. I felt overcome and adrift, as is being carried away on tides I couldn't fight against anymore.

I mutely shook my head, but as I did, all my anxiety about how I could explain all this to him re-surfaced. But I should have known. He had always understood what I needed better than I could. He was now smiling softly at me, comprehension dawning, followed immediately by an adoration that took my breath away, reminding me of how much I had missed him looking at me like I was the most precious thing in his world.

His "Tum mere saath boat ride par chalogi Swara?"was the last thing I expected him to say though, causing me to gape at him with incredulous amazement."Aarti ka bhi time honewaala hoga, aur boat se bahut atcha view milega, challein?"he completed.

I sensed that behind the seemingly banal request to accompany him on the boat ride, lay a much more significant one, but he had allowed me this reprieve rather than forcing me to voice the words I needed to say, and he to hear. Love for him threatened to swamp me, but I still didn't know how to tell him, so I gratefully grasped at the lifeline he once again threw me. I simply nodded and allowed him to take my hand, not able to tear my eyes from him, not daring to believe this could be happening. Belatedly, as we reached the bottom of the steps where we could board one of the small crafts dotted around, I recalled that I had to meet Dida. Even that, he offered to take care of, which he did with a brief phone call, which left him smiling even more widely.

The next few hours were like a dream. It seemed to me the start of the trip he had promised me, and the one I had been pining for in secret since arriving at this hallowed city. We were ferried by a wizened old man, who discreetly turned away from us, smiling benevolently at our still clasped hands, which neither of us wanted to relinquish. I sat close to Sanskaar, our gazes kept tangling and what our mouths didn't say, our eyes certainly seemed to. The city came alive for me finally, all my senses wide-awake and screaming with pleasure at his proximity. The water lapped around us gently, the lights twinkled, and when the spectacular Aarti at the Ghats was conducted, I felt like I was floating in a blessed oasis. Only he and I seemed to exist for most of that boat ride. I cannot recall our exact words, but the refrains of them linger like the sweetest of melodies, capable of haunting you for the rest of your days. I wanted that time to freeze forever, but in my heart and in my memories, it is preserved just so, and I know I will recall it just as vividly for all my days.

I reluctantly exited the little boat when the time came, but he didn't let go of my hand. It seemed that he did intend to keep his promise to me of sightseeing the city together, guaranteed to make it truly memorable. I knew that we would need to talk about the things we had with mutual consent agreed to temporarily suspend, but we further postponed that until we had walked the city streets, eaten food that tasted like ambrosia rather than the street junk it really was, and stopped at the Vishwanath Temple to seek blessings. It seemed fitting to have started at Assi, associated with Shakti, and finish at Shiva's shrine, symbolising the yin and yang perhaps of our own dynamics.

Finally, we talked. He said he would check out of the fancy hotel he was staying at and come back with me to Dida's sister's house so that we could pack my bag and leave first thing in the morning to return to Kolkata. We sat in the sanctuary his plush hotel room offered and here, he took me in his arms, allowing me to finally say what he must have yearned to hear for so long, and which I had selfishly withheld, first from ignorance of my own feelings, and later from shyness and trepidation. The dam I had built around my emotions for years finally burst. I told him how I was genuinely frightened of the word love, especially in a romantic context. I spoke to him about my early years and how I had desperately wanted my father and a "real" family, and then of the disillusion my shallow and rather forced feelings for Lakshya, had caused me due to the events which had unfolded. I hesitatingly told him too, helped along by his undemanding but solid encouragement, about how my feelings for him had begun changing. Finally, I was able to whisper the words of love that I kept forcibly chained within me, in turn holding me captive to grief and stagnation. I will never forget the sheer joy that lit his features when I said those words; neither will the memory of my own delight at hearing him repeat the priceless vows he had already made to me before with words and actions both, ever fade. When he kissed me, it was as if we pledged ourselves to each other for eternity, our lips sealing our promise and sending out a paean of thankfulness at the same time, for having discovered each other. Thus, he forgave me and in doing so, baptised me to reborn again, as someone who could now live rather than exist on the fringes of her life. We were inexorably bound to each other, and yet set free forever too.

"The day misspent, the love misplaced, has inside it the seed of redemption. Nothing is exempt from resurrection." Kay Ryan, Say Uncle

Sanskaar and Swara Maheshwari's Apartment- New Delhi

As Sanskaar climbed up the stairs to his own little corner of Paradise he inhabited with his wife, his step was as light as his heart. He had a surprise for his Swara. She knew they were going to fly to Europe in a few days. He wanted to take her there to celebrate her birthday. He now had a pair of additional tickets, which meant they would first travel to Banaras for a few days beforehand, as he knew she missed her Dida, who had permanently settled there to look after her ailing sister.

Their lives had been a turbulence of change since that wonderful day in Banaras when he had thankfully decided to act to save his marriage. He had brought his bride back to Kolkata, this time as his wife in a real sense. He had listened to Swara voice her grief at the way she had been treated. She had in her usual fashion, internalised the blame and had typically worried more about causing a rift between him and his family, particularly his Mom and Badi Maa, one of the myriad reasons she had been so upset when she had run to Banaras all those months ago. Sanskaar had firmly told he that she was his first and foremost concern now; he would always love his family like she would hers- love is not discerning in that sense. However, any insult to his wife was a grievous harm to his own self and he could not countenance her loss of self-respect, any less than she could. Plus, as ever, endless drama was already playing out between their families in the macabre game of cat and mouse their respective siblings insisted on playing with one another. It had been challenging to control Swara from getting too involved once again, and Sanskaar had wisely selected the option of choosing to open up a new branch of their merged Company in New Delhi, where he proceeded to shift with his adorable but often exasperating wife. Ragini continued to live in the Maheshwari House, pampered and cossetted by his Badi Maa, who wanted to atone for her precious son's misdeeds, conveniently and staggeringly seeming to forgive Ragini's own terrible past crimes. Lakshya continued to say he hated Ragini but they seemed to still not be able to split their now seemingly interwoven lives. The rest of the families danced around to different tunes each day and Sanskaar tried to maintain his sanity and distance as much as he could. He knew the day may well come when he and Swara would have bigger decisions to make about their families' futures, but he wanted them to have this time to themselves until then. He knew that no matter what happened now, they would deal with it as one. He had reached their door and he let himself in softly, knowing she would be waiting for him eagerly as he was already very late.

Sanskaar entered the room that his wife had turned into a literal haven for him over the past precious eight months of their life. She was standing by the window, bathed in moonlight, her face, as she turned to smile dazzlingly at him, translucent with joy that could habitually be seen on her face nowadays. His answering smile too was as bright as the myriad stars that seemed to be scattered in the night sky. He strode over to her and took her in his arms, and she melted into him as effortlessly as a swathe of silk flowing across a smooth surface.

His lips found hers and their ever-present passion for each other immediately flared into pulsating life. They never could get enough of each other, and each day they spent together only seemed to hone and heighten both their desire, and their already overpowering love for each other. Sanskaar's hands tangled in the luxuriant mass of her lustrous tresses, he cupped her delicate face with one hand, his mouth hard and insistent on hers. She met his embrace with equal fervency, her lips clinging to his and her arms around him holding on to him as her anchor, as if she would otherwise get swept away in the tide of passion he had unleashed. His lips roved, he rained kisses on her shut eyelids, her cheekbones, her forehead, and by the time he found the long arch of her neck, she was moaning in response. Their breathing was now labored and very soon both Swara and Sanskaar were totally lost in the web of sensuality woven as an inevitable consequence of their embraces. He tumbled her very willing form onto their bed, and let their hands and mouths and bodies take over. Their union like always transcended the mere physical and elevated them to an abode of spiritual bliss, which is always the realm open to true soul mates.

"To progress is always to begin always to begin again" Martin Luther- Commentary on Romans