Continued from here
Abhimanyu himself was surprised at his reply. Why did he say, “I MUST see her”?
The lady smiled, as if she knew exactly what would happen next, “She is the princess. She is…”
As the words came out of her mouth, time slowed for Abhimanyu. His pulse raced. Did he just hear his heartbeat? His stomach churned. All but one thought remained in his mind. He knew, at that moment, that the next word coming out of the woman’s mouth was going to be a name, and the person bearing that name would affect him for the rest of his life. He felt a yearning, a connection he never felt before. He wanted to know her, to be with her. Yet, it seemed he already knew who she was. He could see her in his mind. He could feel her. He was smitten, even before he laid eyes on her. He was Kshatriya trained to remain stoic and never betray their feelings. But he lost all sense of control.
“Uttara”, said the woman, completing her sentence. She noticed the twinkle in the young man’s eyes. She had seen it before, countless times. She turned her head towards creek, as if to suggest which way he should head, to find the object of his interest. To find his heart.
He began walking away from the lady, thanking her and promising to buy flowers from her in the market later in the day. He tore through the mist, walking toward the sound of the flowing creek. The song formed a symphony with the streaming water. His increasingly louder heartbeat seemed like an accompanying percussion to that symphony. The voice became sweeter. As it grew nearer and louder, his pace slowed. Every nerve in his body seemed aroused, every sinew tense. His stomach was in a knot. His throat parched. He knew he was just a few paces from her. And then, he saw her.
Past the misty clearing, leaning against a rock sculpture was the most breathtaking woman there ever was. She had the visage of an angel and the body of a goddess. As he gaped at her, she gradually dropped the crescendo of the song to its base note and stopped. She then lifted her head, turned in his direction and looked up, allowing Abhimanyu a full view of her.
She had a voluptuous figure. Her dark brown eyes effused passion. Her youthful pink lips moved in slow symmetry. He watched them part slightly, almost reluctantly sticking together. Her radiant soft, black hair swished gently in the morning wind as it cascaded down from behind her ears to the front and stopped below the shoulders. Her slender neck and bare shoulders, without an ornament, made him stiff with desire. Her ample chest heaved rhythmically as his gaze shifted down from her neck to the top of her breasts. Her forest green blouse hugged tightly to her bosom, exposing her midriff. Her tight skirt started at the hipline, exposing her beautiful navel, and wove around her hips. As his eyes caressed down her legs, Abhimanyu noticed the only jewelry she wore – a pair of silver anklets. He felt what any man his age would feel, when chanced upon a beautiful, sensual woman. And he felt it in his loins.
He suddenly realized she was looking at him, bewildered at the appearance of this handsome stranger. She knew instantly from his garb that he came from a distant land. He felt embarrassed. But she stood speechless herself, as much a victim of instant attraction as him.
“I am Soubhadri, and I have traveled far to find you”, he heard himself say, much to his own bemusement.
A flush of bashfulness splashed on her beautiful face, as she smiled sheepishly. “I am Uttara”
“I know. There isn’t a more delicate, alluring, and beautiful thing in this garden”, he flirted, without a moment’s hesitation.
She blushed, her cheeks turning as pink as her lips.
“Where do you live? Who are your parents?”, asked the impatient Abhimanyu, eager to find out more.
“You have traveled this far. You can find that out yourself”, she said coyly. Saying that, started walking away from him.
Abhimanyu thought he heard her whisper, “my love”, as she disappeared.