The path was sunlit, shaded by trees. Flowers were blooming, birds were chirping, wilderness was thickening but none of it captured her attention, for she was entranced by the music that reached like honey in her ears. Fallen twigs snapped and insects scurried away realizing the urgency in her footsteps. Agitated and restless, she walked on and on, until her gaze found the source of the sound.
There he was, sitting under a lush tree, a veena in his lap. His long hair was tied in a half knot, the loose locks subject to the wind's tease. His face, angular and sharp featured, was handsome enough to make one pause in one's natural expression, when they looked his way. A tiger's hide rested carelessly upon his bare, muscular chest and legs. Strings of the finest Rudraksha pearls decorated his neck and arms. His hands pulled passionately at the strings of the instrument, eyebrows knit in concentration, eyes closed, lost maybe in the virtue of his own magnificence.
So melodious was the music he produced that she could not stop her feet from tapping along with the rhythm. Her hands worked up elaborate mudras and feet encircled the earth, adding grace to each note. It was as though her senses were ensnared by the tune, expressing themselves through her dance.
He opened his eyes, his mind still on the piece he was playing, until he saw her. The music stopped. So did the dance. So did the moment, as both of them lost sense of themselves, drunk in each other's beauty. Filled with awe and raging desires, their eyes looked so deep into each other's, as if they could see their souls in them. She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to realize the magnificence she was witnessing and gathering her thoughts, a smile on her lips. When she opened them again, he was gone.
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