Love bridges you with everything

Love they say conquers all except poverty and toothache. As for relationships, they are the bridges that keep the love and the connect going. Once upon a time, there was one such bridge. One that spanned far across the seas, built strong with planks of love, cemented to perfection with the strength of respect. It must have been the sweet fragrance of trust that was known to perpetually linger on it or was it the soulful music of understanding that the gentle wind carried over it. Or it could have been the connection strengthened by the bond of blood that made the distance that spanned between them disappear.

When the storm clouds gathered over it, they were gently steered clear by the winds. When it rained, it was a gentle shower that cleared up the path leaving it sparkling clean. The warmth of the sun after the rains gave birth to flowers, little specks of fragrant colour that danced and played with the singing wind bringing forth a few buzzing bees and tweeting birds that added to the

choral composition. The bridge was as strong and beautiful as it could ever be.

Amid the joys of normality, no one noticed the first few whisps of grey that floated its way above the bridge. As the sun shone bright, the grey was dismissed by the winds as shadows that the brightness cast. As the sun and moon took turns to light up the world below, the grey fed itself from whisps to tufts of grey and silver that accented the brilliant blue. The wind took notice and worked its magic to steer them away, but they were like little boats of silver that had firmly anchored itself on the celestial harbour. As they grew thicker with deeper graphite tones, the sun was but a few rays that filtered through them in a mellow hue. The winds had acquired a roughness, screeching its way up and down the bridge. The birds flew away and the bees before them. The little flowers shivered and shook and mumbled a silent prayer.

A storm was brewing

A mighty army of molten silver and grey soon took command of the skies that raged forth with a thunderous clap twinning with a sliver of brightness and shook the bridge below. The wind sent forth a steady volley of arrows that howled its way up and down the expanse of the bridge, mighty droplets of rain pelted down the planks of love hurting them with an incessant loud patter. The storm raged on testing the bridge’s strength and bond.

When the clouds had poured itself empty and the winds tired itself out from all the howling, they gave way to the sun. The sun now shone on a bridge that was barely standing, the planks sodden and rotting at the edges. Most evident was the deafening silence that screamed loud across the length of this once-mighty bridge, in a world that was facing just another day.

Days turned into months and then one day, a gentle lark’s song broke the heavy silence, then a hand extended from one side of the bridge to cement a few planks of love. Another extended from the other end and cemented a few on that side. Cautiously, ever so slowly, the planks were cemented, one plank at a time.

Today, the bridge stands strong, the scars of the storm remain as some lessons learnt but the pain of the rain’s patter and the sound of the howling wind forgotten. Is love only about flowers, chocolates and hearts? It could be about building broken bridges, healing the scars that the storms once left in their wake and thawing the cold vengeance with the warmth of the lessons it left behind.