Meghbalika, where have you been? Why do I no longer feel your fingers on my parched skin everyday? What have I done? The lies I have said were all for you. Can’t you see? I love you and therefore I lie to you. I lie for you.
The truth you won’t be able to endure Meghbalika. While you play hide and seek, the world beneath you dies a slow death. Your whims and fancies create craters on the hearts of all those who love you and yet you refuse to come back to us, refuse to come back to me.
You call me when you feel you want to break away from the rules that bind you. Yet in that house of rules I am never welcome. I stand out seeing you dragging yourself into your palace of illusions. You revolt, but only within your mind. You are weak Meghbalika.
I remember the day you were born. My father had looked at your face and whispered in my ears, “Look Shyamal. There is Meghbalika. One day she will come for you. She will come and together you will create new stories.” I knew then and there that you were the one I’ll pine for all my life. What I did not know that our meeting will be brief, if at all.
What he never told me that our family has always been a puppet in the hands of your clan. And why not? You, in your citadels amongst the Gods dictate how mortals here will live.
I know Meghbalika. Once we unite, we both will fade away eventually. My sons and daughters will rise up driving me away while you will wander, spent, tired and cheated. But that is needed Meghbalika. For how else will new life be formed on Earth? It need sacrifice and ours is an existence too insignificant. But we all play our parts in the Great Game.
I will lie to you Meghbalika. Again and again. For ours is a greater destiny. I will tell you that when we meet, I will never let you go away. I will hold you till the ends of days are near. But I cannot do so Meghbalika. Someone else scripted our story long before you were born. Someone more powerful, someone the humans seem to call God.
But Meghbalika, I love you, more than anyone has ever loved. Every day I look forward to you dancing down the rainbow to meet me. But you never do. I dressed in green only for you Meghbalika and look at me now. Layers of dust have covered my coat. The green is dying Meghbalika.
Tonight I shall wait. My veins are tired but for you tonight they shall put on their last shades of green and as the night withers away, so will I. Will you come Meghbalika? For the one time that we love without boundaries?
(Meghbalika literally translates to The Girl of the Clouds. Shyamal means green/greenery.)