An Illusion of Love

Does such love exist,
Gentle like the drizzle
Before a Calcutta norwester
Or tender like the dark clouds
Painting the yellow sun red
over the Arabian sea?

If such love does exist,
Does conversation waft into existence,
Like the smell of cold tea
At a railway station 
Mixed with the decaying mist from the mountains
On a wet Kottayam morning?

If such conversation does exist,
Do the echoes linger on
Spreading from shore to shore
Like gentle ripples sometimes do;
Or as tunes from the fiddle have
In the dusky corners of Shanti-niketan?

If the echoes do linger on
Does such love endure
-Or do the sea, rain,river
And mountains but exist,
To see the last walk from
The Prayag to the Manikarnika?