Love is...

She would want to believe what it says in the Holy Scriptures about attaining the human form,That after so many cycles of birth and rebirth one finally comes into the earth as what the biologists call Homo sapiens. Given the highest form of all creation having a brain which should be able to guide him to live his life righteously so that when this cycle is over he is finally merged with the ONE.

As she is going on with her chores of keeping the house euroclean her husband chuckles and says-"You must've been a safaiwala (a professional cleaner who brooms,dusts and mops)  in your previous birth. Hence your obsession with cleanliness."
Normally she would've grumbled and given back but not today.She is trying hard to take it in her stride sportingly and not to react to snide comments which she feels is unfair. She is trying hard to tame her anger which gets the better of her. Into one of  peaceful self and mulling over what she had read in the Holy Book she smiles faintly and looks at her tormentor and says-" Safaiwala ? nneVer ! i know i was the Jacaranda tree."
"What brings you to that conclusion dear?" asks her husband his demeanour now emanating something of surprise and bit of affectionate amusement."
She stops comes nearer to her husband who is hastily tying his shoelaces now and she  removes his spectacles from his face to give it that squeaky shine and says "i shall tell u later in the evening if only you promise not to laugh it off and just listen".

"Oks dear , evening then when I return and i shall hear your story","and yes i will listen without dismissing" says her husband allowing her to put back his glasses on him. Giving a hurried peck which in it's manner said take care, he then says bye to her and pushes off to his daily grind. She too gets busy after closing the door behind anticipating little of what afternoon has in store for her.

During the day when she is all clean and done and as she sits with her lappie checking out her mail she finds this beautiful e card from her husband which conveys all . It is no ordinary e card sent with the click of a button rather the one which entailed snatching time out  from the hopelessly manic Monday and searching the world wide web to find the most apt the most suitable. Apart from the above picture of a resplendent purple among the greens was something more refreshing. Something that reached out to her and refreshed her and as if in a reverie she was transported as she recited aloud the poem by an unknown  (unknown definitely to both of them till now)  poet called Ann Beard.
                                                               A Jacaranda Tree
                                     A Jacaranda tree stands tall, and sways as if to say,
                                     Look! at this magnificence, i'm bearing blue today
                                     forgive the way I shout out aloud, my lack of modesty
                                     but nowhere in this troubled world is finery like me.
                              
                                     Light rays slide between each leaf, to settle on the tips
                                     to lightly kiss your face with a hundred million tiny lips
                                     you only have to lift your eyes to greet the filtered sun
                                     a sight i guarantee will warm the heart of everyone.

                                     Though very tall, my leaf is small, it's form is one of fern,
                                     large panicles of bluebells swell to trumpet unconcern.
                                     A bee collecting nectar from an ample deep white throat,
                                     takes flight to join it's family, and of it's feast to gloat.

                                     Look up to see each fern like leaf, floating up on the high,
                                     like footprints of a centipede that stroll across the sky
                                     See how far my branches reach, admire their greenery,
                                     I am beautiful and strong, I am the Jacaranda tree.

 Oh! darling! darling! thank you for the lovely poem she says to the sender, almost choked with emotion . An eye catching glow of happiness radiated from her as if she was in love all over again. She decided what she was going to serve him for snacks with tea and more importantly to do a bit of makeover to surprise him pleasantly. Probably wear that new dress, put on some eye make up and a bit of gloss on her lips and then between his admiration and tea with fresh snacks tell him about the Jacaranda hypothesis. She must not let him guess that she has received the love and the apology already and fake ignorance of the mail.This time she will have her dig. She is not at all bothered that at best she might be dismissed as a beraham (insensitive to feelings) and there is a possibility of her makeover going unnoticed which she seriously doubts as he will notice when she opens the door to usher him in. He might listen to her and call her pagal ( insane) but that too will be said affectionately with a hug she is sure of that. She had reasons to feel thus as when she had mentioned it to her best friend she had got a hysterical laugh, an affectionate pagal and a suggestion to sign up for that TV sitcom Raaj Pichale Janam Ka (suspense of the previous birth ). She stars humming and making plans for the evening and this time she hums the easy one so that she prevents herself from going off tune.
 ''Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket and save it for a rainy day....

...  Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket never let it fade away"...She hums and starts imagining a beautiful green where she could take him and show him enough and tell him all so that he is able to understand why she feels she was a Jacaranda tree. Now that he has shown through his gesture that he was wrong in calling her a pichale janam ki safaiwala and that he loves her and was just having a dig at her.