A girl in the Markets of Khatu Shyamji Temple in Rajasthan

Listen with your eyes for feelings.
~ Stephen Covey

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I looked into her eyes and it might have been just for a second, but she looked into mine. Her eyes, so beautiful and almond-round, gleamed, reflecting the warmth of the sun. And soon, I felt my heart illuminated, with a thousand beams of sunlight...

I had just returned after bowing my head in the temple of Khatu Shyamji in Rajasthan and was lazily ambling through the markets of the town towards our car in the parking area. The sun, fast climbing overhead, had directly cut down on the number of people roaming on the streets – the number had thinned considerably owing to the growing hot humidity in the air. Lined with a jamboree of shops that sold everything from religious paraphernalia to churans and pickles, the markets wore a rather colourful outlook to the otherwise dull happenings around.

I caught her standing outside one of these nondescript churan shops; one of her friends had gone inside. It might have been just a few tiny seconds, when her eyes locked with mine, but I could clearly see how hers sparkled in the sunlight, so much emotion hemmed in them.

Dressed in a grey-red sweater worn over a green colored salwar kameez, the little girl was carrying a big pile of twigs on her petite head. I pulled out my camera and pressed the shutter in haste, fearing she would shy away or run. How mistaken was I! She kept staring with such curiosity and wonder, her eyes twinkling with mystery as well as jewelled beauty that I couldn’t help but think – I’d never seen such beautiful graceful eyes with so much life in them for some time.

Not one, not two but the light of a thousand souls jumped out from her gaze, adding another layer of beauty to her slightly demure character. We spoke nothing and yet, I felt everything...

What kind of world lay beneath her veil of precious lovely eyes?
What dreams did they harbour?
Had they been dyed in the sweet play of innocence
or had they been shrouded in the silent shoulder of responsibility?
Were those depths inked in wells of laughter
or were they resonant in pain and sorrow?

So many questions swirled in my heart as I saw her walking, back on her trail, together with her friend. Along with the pile of twigs, she also carried answers to all my questions away with her.

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This post is part of an ongoing series called Soulie Saturday on My Yatra Diary..., a spiritual exploration of that which is Unseen and a celebration of that Ultimate sacred space we yearn for - within and without - and the riches we carry in our own hearts. Click on the preceding "Soulie Saturday" link to view all posts in the series, or visit the initial overview post that inspired me to start this series here.