The Name of Our Bond

 

(Fiction)

 “Tell me—what am I to you? What is our relationship?”
Sindhu asked again, repeating the same question I had never been able to answer.

But how can one answer a question whose answer is not yet known?

“You already know I can’t give you an answer. So why do you keep asking?”

“Because I want to hear it from you—what am I to you, and what exactly is this bond between us?”

“You can weigh objects, Sindhu... but not relationships.
Ours is a bond untouched by the body, yet deep within the soul.
We are, you and I, kindred spirits—happy souls.”

“I’m not satisfied with that answer,” she said, turning her face away.

“You’re one of a kind. Priceless. I lack the words to define what we share.
Even if I sat down to write, and the entire ocean became ink...”

Sindhu placed her hand over my mouth and interrupted,
“I’ve memorized this now—‘even if the ocean turned to ink and the trees to pens, even then, love and our bond could never be fully written...’ blah blah blah...”

“But that’s the truth, Sindhu,” I tried to explain.

“Every relationship has a name. Why doesn’t ours?” she asked.

“Ours is a soul-bond—and such bonds have no name.
But if you wish, you may give it one.
Choose from blood-relations or invent a new one altogether.
Just remember, we are beyond space, time, and form.
We are fragments of the greater spirit... the Paramatma.”

“If you love me so much, then why do you become so bitter sometimes?”
Her voice quivered.

I looked up at the sky without answering.
But some questions demand answers.
Sometimes, a small bush, if not removed, grows into a wall.
Just as unwatered plants wither, so too do bonds if not tended to.

“You’re right, Sindhu. I do become bitter.
We are indeed part of the divine soul—but here we exist in human form.
And humans do what humans are prone to do.
We are not angels, nor gods, nor avatars.”

“And what was it you said once about neem trees?” she asked suddenly.

“We are people of the earth. Our temperament, too, springs from the soil.
There used to be many neem trees once—
neem absorbs all the bitterness of the land,
so people remained sweet.
But now that the neem is vanishing, bitterness is rising in people... even in me.”

“I often disagree with you, and I tell you so,
but you never explain yourself,” Sindhu said.

“You have every right to disagree.
There’s a difference between disagreement and opposition.
Where disagreement exists, it must be expressed.
Just as you disagree with me, I do too—with you.
But I don’t express it. I don’t like to.
You do it for both of us. That’s enough.
Besides, we’re not all that different.”

“But even then, when there is disagreement, one must speak,”
Sindhu said, looking into my eyes.

“Yes, one should—but I can’t.
Because I’m afraid...
afraid that my words may not be bearable.”
I left the sentence unfinished.

Sindhu seemed to sense the fear inside me and fell silent.
Then, after a while, she said softly,
“Even in a home, pots and pans clash...
But if we’re to live together, why fear the occasional clash?”

“You’re right,” I said. “But I’m still afraid.
Do you know what my name means?”

“No,” she replied. “Your name is Shankar... Shiva-Shankar.”

“My name means ‘bringer of peace.’
When the gods and demons churned the cosmic ocean,
a deadly poison emerged.
Neither gods nor demons dared to drink it.
So Shiva swallowed it to save the world,
and his throat turned blue.
That’s why he’s called Neelkanth.
By drinking the poison, he gave joy to others.”

“So you’re a giver of joy?” Sindhu asked, surprised.
“But all you’ve given me is pain.
Where is my share of joy?”

“I’ve always tried to bring you peace and happiness.
But it’s my misfortune that, in doing so, I’ve only brought you pain.
Now I know—I’ll never be able to give you joy.”

Sindhu fell silent, her face clouded with sadness.
I wanted to lift her sorrow,
but she said quietly,
“Don’t say anything. Just walk with me.”

And so we walked in silence under the star-filled sky.
The breeze whispered through the leaves,
echoing the songs of wandering spirits.
Voices rose with the waves and danced across the shore,
making it their sacred sanctuary.