16. Fire on Ice, Ice on Fire

Seeing Mira's creased forehead, Kris wanted to laugh out loud, but the fact that she was not keeping well made him mellow. His reached out to caress her hair. Mira quizzically stared back in response.

"Tell me. Who is it that you like?", she asked again.

Kris smiled.

Knowing that she couldn't get an answer from him, she impulsively leaned forward to kiss his lips. Her cold body caught fire from his burning lips. The warmth was intensely dizzying. She fell back to the bed, panting. Kris sat there shocked. In a few moments, he placed the bowl next to her.

"Eat."

He left the room.

Mira couldn't understand what went wrong. Is it probably because he likes someone else? Did she read the signs wrong? She had that hunch that Kris liked her too. This wasn't the reaction she was expecting. Mira wanted to throw a tantrum, but she quietly picked up the soup and drank another spoon.

"Eugh. Salty."

-----------------------

Kris rubbed his temple as he stood near the staircase railings. Is this what being human meant? The emotions within his brain were riling him up. He felt his head would undergo self-combustion owing to endless thoughts. Kris ran downstairs and found a bottle of cold water; he poured it down his throat. There was an intense burning inside him and he didn't know how to handle it. This was something Kris wanted, something he yearned for. This intimacy with Mira was something like a debt which he carried for many lifetimes altogether.

She had loved him like no other once, but he was a god, then. A god who couldn't choose anything for his own benefits alone; a god who lived for the good of all, the greater ideals of life and living. He was bigger than himself. But deep within, the real man had been kept locked in a room without windows. All his emotions, his needs, his wants — all of it. Mira was the first to ignite the fire of humanness within him. Her selfless love towards him was unprecedented ; everyone else expected something, they wanted attention, they sought for those words, those gifts, those moments. Mira wanted nothing but to love him benevolently, selflessly, without wanting anything back. She, in fact, left all that she had, all that which belonged to her, all the comforts and luxuries of life to live as a mendicant saint on the streets.

She lived singing his songs, taking his name alone. Yet, he could not give her anything. There were days when that buried part of his wanted to run out and embrace her, to scoop her up and to give the comforts she deserved. At least, to provide the basic necessities. But he was so engrossed with sculpting history, in playing the god that he was, that he forgot all about it. Maybe that's exactly why even after so many hundreds and thousands of years, her faced loomed out of nowhere in his mind. She was never forgotten, but it was time to make her remember that she too was loved.

"Kris?"

He jolted back to see Mira standing behind him.

"You're crushing that bottle."

The half-empty bottle looked pitiable now. Kris emptied it and threw it in the trash bin.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she continued.

"To be honest, something about you made me feel that you like me and perhaps I reacted to that feeling. I have never had a relationship, really. I.. I never had a proper family, too. These few days with you guys made me feel like a normal person for once. But I think I went overboard on that emotional rollercoaster which I was riding. My lawyer, Arabella, she just called. My apartment is ready. Maybe, I was thinking, I could move out, now. "

Mira couldn't look him in the eye anymore. She looked at the carpet and the walls while talking as she felt intensely overwhelmed with emotions. Therefore, she didn't see it when he walked up to her and picked her up to straddle her around his hips and to kiss her.

Kris's hold was so strong and comfortable that she felt like a marshmallow on fire. The distinction between the two bodies became less apparent as moments trickled away. Her hands finally found their way up his body and hair, gaining confidence from the tongue which fought with hers, filling her mouth with the tastes of unknown passion. It was the very first time for her. She was amazed by how gentle and loving he was. Her imagination of a kiss was nothing less than an assault. But he made her realize that men can be gentle too, that love can be tender too.

Tears rolled down her cheeks without her realizing it. Kris tasted the salt of it and he stopped kissing, in shock.

"Mira.. What happened?"

"No.. I'm.. Damn. This is silly." She got down from his arms and wiped the tears away. Kris looked worried to death.

"Did I hurt you?"

"NO! Kris... On the contrary.. It was beautiful.. It was so perfect that.. These tears.. They were of pure joy. I'm so embarrassed. It's silly of me, I know.. But I thought it was so beautiful, such as a dream is, that I couldn't stop the tears."

"Oh.. Mira.. Dove, don't cry.. Come here." He hugged her like a macho teddy bear. It's an oxymoron, she thought and giggled. Kris smiled at her oscillating moods, for he felt just the same way too. The beauty of their passion was something surreal.

"So, are you still going to move out?" Kris joked.

"Do I have to? Can't I stay? Please please please?" she played along.

Outside, a blue Porsche stood, inside which a voice chuckled.

"Heh. What drama, Krsna! You gotta be kidding me. I guess I'll have to remind you who you really are."

A gloved hand slowly turned the volume of the speakers up and it played,

"... ¶Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,

When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen:

Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?

'Twas mine own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so.

Call up your men, dilly dilly, set them to work,

Some with a rake, dilly dilly, some with a fork;

Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to thresh corn,

Whilst you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm.

If you should die, dilly dilly, as it may hap,

You shall be buried, dilly dilly, under the tap;

Who told you so, dilly dilly, pray tell me why?

That you might drink, dilly dilly, when you are..¦.."*

.... And the rider, she laughed.

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[ AUTHOR'S NOTE :

* A 17th century English folk song and later, nursery rhyme.