The Journey of Love

It was dawn, and my husband’s temperature soared. We were
unable to set off on time with the fellow travelers. I kept wakeful
till sunrise in the hope that my husband would get better. I stood at
the window and noticed everyone packing their bags and going in
search of genuine love following the route associated with our
local legend. It was deeply held that anyone who followed this
route found the true love tailored-made for him.
When it was midday, my husband got back on his feet. We set off
in the hope we could catch up with the fellow travelers who
preceded us. On the way there were multitudes of travelers of all
age groups. All of them came in search of true love enthusiastically
and tirelessly. I grabbed firm hold of my husband lest I should get
lost in a crowd. It was freezing cold, and at night it got colder. I
saw many travelers burn wood to keep warm. At sunset houses on
the roadside were open to all passers-by. I did not want to enter
any of these houses. If my husband asked me to have some rest at a
warm place, I would flatly refuse and opt to proceed on and stay
with him all the time. There were dwellings designated for women
and men.
We carried on walking until it was midnight and got colder. My
husband got me to enter a dwelling where men spent the night
downstairs and women rested upstairs. At this very moment I felt
reassured because my husband and I were at the same place.
However, my agreement was too late: there were no bedcovers or
pillows to use in this dwelling.

I waited for the morning desperately and closed my eyes, sitting on
the floor and resting my head against the wall. In the early hours of
the morning, I set off happily, despite my sleepless night.
However, I was delighted by the fellow travelers’ renewed
enthusiasm, the children’s roaring laughter and the cool breezes.
Even my husband was walking with vigor. I asked him how he felt.
“Perhaps I have got rid of illness at the beginning of the road”, he
replied. This made me feel more at ease.
When darkness fell again, anxiety began to pierce me. This time
we spent the night inside a tent. Tents were pitched in the desert to
be shelters for travelers. It was a sleepless night, yet I was less
worried because my husband was in a tent close to me.
In the morning, we set off again. It appeared that we neared the
end. This time we started walking in dead silence and stopped
talking about anything. I grew accustomed to the road and began to
listen to my inner voice, taking no notice of the world around me.
I believed that my husband engrossed himself in another world.
Almost he was listening to his inner voice as I was doing or
thinking about the heroes of the tale who followed the same route
one thousand years ago according to the legend.
We reached our final station. My husband left me alone in a tent.
He did not sleep that night. He set off trying to get to his
destination before sunrise. He moved on to reach his target spot at
the end of the road. He ran after his love. I stayed by myself that
night thinking back over what happened to me throughout the
journey.
I did not fear to be alone anymore, nor was I in need to catch
anybody in a crowd. I was not required to judge those around me.

It transpired that someday I would need someone’s help. It also
turned out that true love means bringing happiness to those who
you love.
My husband gave me the chance to follow that route in spite of his
illness. I, in turn, allowed him to complete his journey before
sunrise.
Before leaving, my husband whispered, “I am confident that we
will meet soon at the end of the road.” These words were a
mixture of hope and confidence.

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