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Updated: May 9, 2025
And as I stretched my hands, another face dawned solemnly from the shadow beside her with grave brows bent on mine one I had known and seen in the ruins at Bijbehara. Outside and very near I could hear the silver weaving of the Flute that in India is the symbol of the call of the Divine. A dream yes, but it taught me to live.
My head is full of ships, sea fights, and love making to the exclusion of everything else. I heard you you said it was a good job, as it prevented me writing more nonsense. AUGUST 22nd. Slowly drifting all day down the stream towards Sreenuggur. Past Bijbehara with its fine bridge, stopping there a short time to procure milk and eggs for breakfast.
Next day our camp was struck and we turned our faces again to Srinagar and to the day of parting. I set down but one strange incident of our journey, of which I did not speak even to her. We were camping at Bijbehara, awaiting our house boat, and the site was by the Maharaja's lodge above the little town. It was midnight and I was sleepless the shadow of the near future was upon me.
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