Introduction

A lyrical tale of unexpected reunion set against the atmospheric backdrop of Vienna’s cobblestone streets and the flowing Danube River. This contemplative love story explores the complex emotions between two former lovers who meet again after years apart, weaving together themes of desire, patience, and the transformative power of time. Through poetic prose and philosophical reflections shared with a mystical banyan tree, the narrative delves into the difference between fleeting desire and enduring love. The story captures the Portuguese concept of “saudade” – that bittersweet longing for what was lost – as the protagonists navigate their shared past and uncertain future amid Vienna’s old-world charm and melancholic street music.

‘Tell me why you are here?’ I asked, while softly caressing her delicate ivory palm, ‘Tell me why you are here with me, in this very moment?’

Her palm was soft and cold, but with a subtle warmth pulsating just beneath the fragile skin.  

‘That’s a strange question, and I really do not have any answer.’ A tiny smile danced around the corners of her lips. She peered back into my eyes, looking for an answer or perhaps solace. Then she suddenly looked away and the magic was broken.

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Vienna was the usual evening chaos. Desires were pursuing desires in an endless cycle. The lights of some old Gothic palace reflected in and danced along the soft waves of the Danube. The river was a cauldron of silence, and the moist evening breeze stirred both its calm surface and also our senses.

Across a cobbled yard stood a couple of street musicians. A tall graceful woman was playing a sad symphony on her old violin; while her companion, an old man, was plucking bits of joy from the keys of his weather-beaten accordion. I listened to their music closely and recognized loss and love, singing their eternal duet.

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‘Why don’t you tell me why you are here?’ A challenge flashed briefly in her smiling eyes, ‘Why are you here in Vienna?’

For a single brief moment, she became what she was a half-decade ago – a beautiful golden dragon that breathed fire of unspoken desires. An unpredictable dragon and an independent dragon – free to roam the wide blue skies.

‘Why am I here?’ I asked myself looking down at the lines mapping the palms of my hands. Then I raised my head and looked back at her with an answering smile, ‘Perhaps I am lost or perhaps I am here for the love that remains.’

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When I first met her, I was not as young as I once used to be, but I was as restless as the branches of a tall pine tree. She was strong wind, blowing through my branches after a very long time. Slim and charming with soft brown hair, which cascaded boldly around her lovely face, and a taut, sensuous body. Her strange and unnamable seduction, weaved its magic wand and I fell under her spell.

I remembered looking at her for the first time. She reminded me of the dark mysterious forests, smelling heavily of tropical rains. She reminded me of the moist green moss, climbing up and curving along the tree trunks. And she reminded me of the rain-drenched soil, emitting wisps of a fragrant mist. Whenever I try to remember what all I felt on first seeing her, there is a small whisper in my ears – desire.

Though all desires are sensuous, this one spoke more of unconditional love.

She always looked like a goddess and a bright light of brilliance peeked from behind her dark unsmiling eyes. Sometimes, under my worshipping gaze, her chiseled features melted into a soft and malleable kindness. But mostly, she remained a marble statue. She was a goddess who demanded to be loved while hiding behind tradition and humility. I was a humble priest who fell in love with her because the possibility of losing her in the whirling sands of time frightened me.   

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‘I think I am in love.’ I excitedly spilled out my secret to the old banyan tree. We were the only two souls in the courtyard of the Tomb of the Lonely Saint. The saint was long dead, but his spirit, as I felt, resided within the tree.

‘And when did you realize this?’ The tree asked in its deep, old, and rusty voice – its texture as rough as his bark.

‘The realization came slowly, almost like the hesitant monsoon rain. But now that it is here, I feel as if struck by a thunderbolt.’ I said, while sitting down with my back to the trunk, ‘I can feel the lightening tingling along my spine and nerves.’

‘Beware, son!’ The old tree whispered back, ‘Love is a banshee disguised as a butterfly. She may be kind to the fools. But to those who recognize and understand her and submit to her power willingly, she is always cruel beyond words.’

‘She is not a banshee.’ I protested. ‘She is a butterfly and her wings reflect all the colours of this world.’

The tree felt silent and thought for a moment.

‘Perhaps it is yet not love. Perhaps it is desire – a desire that does not dissolve with the waning moon. But a desire that is capable of evolving into love one day.’

‘What if it always remains a desire?’ My heart trembled with the fear of possible loss.

‘Hmm…!’ The tree rustled its many branches, and legions of tired pigeons flew out, scared of the sudden movement. ‘Remember, son! Desire is one of the most powerful of all forces of nature. It is the force that makes the world go around in circles. Desire takes birth, deep within the warm recesses of our ever-hungry hearts. It climbs our souls like a vine climbs up a tree, entrapping and teasing the branches. It starts with an almost erotic touch and then embeds its tentacles deep within our lonely hearts. And then it starts sucking. It hungrily sucks in our soul and our ego and our character and our self-control, and it leaves us empty and dry.’

The tree said it all deliberately and in his usual sing song style. His wisdom was like an old wine – each sip to be savoured and treasured.

‘How do I ensure that this doesn’t just remain a desire?’ My fear was growing stronger. 

‘Whenever two souls come across each other, floating along the river of time, it is always for a higher purpose. And that purpose is always love.’ The tree said.

‘Don’t worry, son!’ A few dry leaves floated down and caressed my shoulders kindly. ‘If it is meant to be, it will be.’

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‘You have always had the habit of talking in riddles.’ She took a sip and her soft eyelids covered her dark beautiful eyes for a moment.

‘Well that is just me.’ I smiled at her, ‘Anyway, why are you here in Vienna?’

‘New York troubles my soul sometimes.’ She said while searching my eyes, ‘The chaos disturbs my quest for inner peace. And Vienna always attracts me with its old architecture and good music.’

We grew quiet for a moment. The musicians had stopped but the notes of their strange sad-happy symphony, were still echoing beyond the edge of silence.

I looked at her face. I was wrong. She did not look as young as I had initially thought. There were lines on her face – very fine lines. I peered at them closely. Under my careful gaze, each line became a crack and the crack widened into a gorge and within that gorge, there flowed the river of time.

‘Why are you here?’ She suddenly broke the fragile silence hovering around and between us.

‘I curate a small museum of antiquities along the Bräunerstraße. And in the evening I come here. I listen to the music and I write.’

‘Do you find it strange?’ She hesitated – her delicate mouth quivering like a bow stretched in full. ‘Do you find it strange – us meeting here in Vienna?’

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‘I haven’t been able to understand something.’ I tried to change the subject.

‘And what is that, my son?’ The Banyan tree asked kindly.

‘Why doesn’t she ever smile?’ I asked.

‘And why do you want her to smile?’ He chucked softly.

‘I want to see her face breaking into a smile, and I want to see the light of happiness shining through. I want to see the smiling lines appear around the corners of her mouth and eyes; and I want those lines to become an intricate treasure map. And then I want to trace those lines with my lips and find the treasure.’

‘It is definitely desire.’ The tree chuckled, ‘But don’t worry, she will smile one day.’

‘And when will that be?’ I was growing sceptical.

‘Remember, son!’ The Banyan tree answered, ‘An oyster lies deep within the ocean and awaits the arrival of a single grain of sand. Once that grain enters the oyster, it takes years and years to coat that grain with nacre. With patience and with time, that grain of sand becomes a lustrous pearl. The oyster remains patient. It keeps that pearl secure within its shell – hiding it from greedy eyes. But one day, when and if a true seeker of the pearl arrives, the oyster willingly opens up and offers the pearl.’

‘So she is the oyster, and one day she may offer love with a smile if I remain patient.’ I had understood what the tree wanted to tell me.

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‘I would like an answer to my question.’ Her voice broke my reverie.

‘Huh! What question is that?’ I looked at her while still thinking fondly of my old friend – the old Banyan tree.

‘I asked you if you find it strange – us meeting here in Vienna out of the blue?’ She reposed her question, deliberately.

‘Nothing is ever out of the blue.’ I smiled at her, ‘Whenever two souls come across each other, floating along the river of time, it is always for a higher purpose.’

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We didn’t speak any more words. We just sat there beside the Danube – two silent shadows lost in their own thoughts. Then her hand moved and covered mine. It was warm and soft. I looked up into her eyes and witnessed a slow and subtle transformation. Her eyes crinkled a little, and the lines around the corners of her lips, formed a smile. It was the loveliest of all the smiles in the whole world. We slowly reached across the table for each other, and my lips found hers. I traced the lines around her mouth delicately and carefully, and finally found my treasure.