Love like the Dew

Shuvo was a simple person and stayed in a small village Monpura. His daily life was spent in the silent companionship of nature and the virgin fields and the soft breezes which rustled along. He had never worried too much about love, it has always been far away, something belonging to other people.

Until Aroni came.

It was the new schoolteacher,--beautiful, serene, and ever cool of lip. She had the face of gold in the winter morning, and just as the smell of dew-kissed flowers in the morning freshness her presence seemed to give a gayety to the village.

Shuvo noticed her when she was observing the children as they played along the bokul tree close to the school. One of the flowers fell at her feet, which she very quietly gathered up. And Shuvo felt a sensation in his heart. It was not sudden, not loud, but sweet like morning dew upon a leaf.

Days passed. Shuvo would follow Aroni on her home-ward steps a few paces behind. When she wanted a book he would bring it without her making the request. He had never cared to say it, but in his heart he knew--he had fallen in love.And Aroni saw.

One fine morning, being still in the blanket of mist, she whispered:

Why don not you speak, Shuvo?

Shuvo smiled, and said nothing. His eyes were wet, and his mouth as austere as the morning softened.

It did not take long before Aroni was called out of the village on long leave. She had never come back.

Almost inseparably Shuvo used to sit there under the bokul tree and observe the falling flowers. He saw her in every flower. There were more valuable memories than words in that a place, in that silence.

Years passed. Shuvo got employed at a school in a different village. Then one day in class, when she was studying literature, he had read out to the children a poem which went by the name-Love Like the Dew.

so inquired one of the children.

Did you make this poem, sir?

Shuvo smiled sweetly. he had an eye as bright as dew on a corner of a leaf.

And of this he made no mention.