Aniruddha, Sree and a rock climb

'So Aniruddha,are you tired of the climb, mon amour?'
Sree asked.
Sree being what she is.
Always full of energy to climb new frontiers. Right now they are in the middle of a climb. They had chosen a small hill this time.
Ropes were as usual tied to their harness.
Aniruddha was breathing fast. Sree knows her love. Knows him more than anyone else could know Aniruddha.
Her mon amour.
She thought Aniruddha might suffer from asphyxiation. She hanging from the rope slowly lowered herself.
'Take a deep breath, take in all the air you can, slowly, then release the same...relax...don't stiffen your muscles...'
Sree was constantly saying these.
Aniruddha, did the same.
He knew only upon Sree he could trust.
His childhood love.
His only trust in this difficult terrain.

Like that rope with which he was hanging.
And like that cliff.
Sree smiled.
Seeing Aniruddha getting less tensed.
The sun was on their back, few beads of sweat getting accumulated on their necks, hands, torsos.
Tough it was.
Too tough.
But a promise is a promise.
A promise to reach that summit after two days and two nights continuous fight against the formidability of Nature and her awesome splendour.
'Only few minutes more...see...there lies our summit...there once reaching we would love us more and love all the flora and fauna around would be our discovery...only discovery that could make us true...'
Sree kept on egging Aniruddha.
Aniruddha looked at his Sree.
His childhood love.
His cord of belief.
Insurmountable one.

He with a hammer started ramming upon the nail.
It got into the rock.
He tried to pull it using all his might.
It held.
He tied the rope.
One more to go.
Sree had pulled herself onto the top almost.
She was tying herself with a long cord from the thick trunk of a tree.
She would be lying down and extending her hand to Aniruddha.
She would pull him up.

Aniruddha looked up.
He saw the smile in Sree's face.
The Peace of a Beauty as she appeared with the beads of sweat glittering upon her resplendent face.
Her hair like a dreamy cascade flowing down her shoulders.
A blackish brown cascade.

Aniruddha knew he could climb any cliff.
For his Sree is there.
His Mon amour.


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