The chirping of the bird, the noise of the gusty wind and her imperfect blow made a great piece of tune. The flute of the infinite is played, and its sound was love and pain. The last thing I saw about her was a drop of tear that evaporated on her cheeks; her eyes soaked in tears pressed against each other and her lips kissing that non-living bamboo; which on blowing emitted the best sound that the world will ever hear.
Hi, I am Madhav and we are nomads. Nothing such as love exists in our fate. We are made to separate. And this is my love story.
Hi, and this me, the young Princess. I am lonely in this crowd and Sarala is my only friend. I  always wish if I was a servant, for I was prisoned in the house like a servant and not lived as a princess. And this is our story. The story of love and pain.