Antananarivo, a typical college boy.
His first attraction to her must have been for the beautiful scenery she provided for his eyes.
She was fair, pretty, a classical dancer, vivacious and more.
He was tall, may be called handsome, witty and much more.
Her first attraction to him must also have been some gender chemistry.
She had quite a number of suitors, competing for her attention.
She was floating in angelic joy, flirting but drawing her own clear lines.
Then her world changed.
The fear that her girlish exuberance had so far kept under the carpet now started to bulge and take solid shape.
Her mother started developing Huntington’s disease and subsequent dementia.
Those who competed for her attention fell away. Antananarivo stayed on.
Compassion became his passion now. Dependence on him or surrender to him, handing herself over to him became her emotion.
An epic platonic love sprouted. Other folks sniggered and gossiped. But the force of goodness prevailed finally, at least in most people.
And what a roller-coaster ride they had! Hanging by their little fingers with just a toe hold on at times, with their philosopher friend pulling them in.
But the passage had not been only by them.
There was a stowaway who showed up at times, who bonded them all together.
He was the same fourth person who stood close snuggling along with cold, shivering three Alvar saints warming themselves with the wine of God-intoxication.
As He stood with those three so He stays with these three, weaving them into a fine mosaic of relationship.
Aum.
Amen.
Swami Sampurnananda, 23 October 2003.
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