Evening on the Porch.

It was the evening, the sprinkle of droplets started, the smoke which was rising from theneighbour’s house was losing the thickness and power of escaping, and our very old pomegranate trees were shedding leaves in a welcome of the winter, a tribute to the autumn and a company to the rain. I was standing at the door of the back porch waiting for the tea and admiring a beauty around. The outside cold gentle currents of the wind had already turned me impatient to have the sip of the Noon Chai, the traditional Kashmiri tea, or call it the Salt Tea in the English attire.

I was still waiting for the vapours to take off from the teapot and condense over the ceiling when the three little kittens with their mother joined me on the porch. I rolled a ball towards them and waited for the response but all in vain. They were in plan to have some rest. On noticing the three young ones I was in too jiffy to make a response. Mama, “Out of the three the one with golden patches is awfully beautiful”. Before my mother could have replied the dark kitten sat in front of her mother as if she did understand me and wanted to teach me a lesson about beauty. While the young ones were making the storyline I was handed over a cup of tea.

First sip, the tea just changed the sense of climate and the warmth already starts gripping within. The mother cat had by now placed her hand on the head of the little black one, started licking his head, and cuddled him. While she was busy showering the love, the second one joined. She again did the same. Seeing this, the third one, whom I praised for the beauty, too joined to share motherly love. She lifted her left arm quite gently raised it above all three, placed it over them, started licking their heads & patted them one by one, as per their respective turns. This nudged me. Wasn’t I praising one? But to the mother they all are one irrespective of their beauty. And love isn’t the believer of difference it is a stand for the unity. I got a lesson to never guide a line of mark praising the beauty, instead speak of it unanimously.

This abundance of love reminded me of the message that I few days back had written for my friend whom I love unconditionally and it goes like this:

“I have no idea about love. I don’t know what actually it sounds like. I don’t know the feeling of being into it. People say love for our creator is reality. Then same people say love for parents is unmatched. They further confuse me with love for a partner and thus they keep bringing on the definition of love for different identities and this way love turns more about individuality instead of being unified.”

This text I couldn’t stop relating to the scene of minutes. Where’s my message of questioning the individuality of the love was being beautifully explained on the basis reality of the unity. Furthermore, the classification of the love on the basis of who we love stand dismissed.