Long time back, eons ago, there were a couple, Ruru and Pramadvara. They lived among the singing birds, dancing deer, flowing streams, flowering plants, and yes, musing monks. They sang with the birds, danced with the deer, swam with the fish, laughed with the flowers, and no, just kept at a respectable distance from the monks. They were the mankind in its youth, they were us, in the beginning of time.
Then, one day, Pramadvara, without knowing that among the singing birds, dancing deer, swimming fish, flowering plants, and musing monks, there was a poisonous snake, went into the shining sunlight and fell victim to the snake bite.
When Ruru saw that, he couldn’t understand it; he thought Pramadvara was sleeping at noon; he called her; he shook her; he tickled her, all without response. When every attempt failed, he got frightened and looking down that angelic face, he wept.
The singing birds stopped singing, the dancing deer stopped dancing, they just cried, filling the streams with their tears. The plants dropped the flowers, but the monks mused still.
The monks told Ruru that it was death. That it was a journey to the land of no return. That it was inevitable to all the living beings.
Ruru wept still. Knowledge was not what he wanted, he wanted a smile from those lips that touched his several times, he wanted a flutter of those eyes that shone in the moonlight, he wanted her just to be alive.
May be he will find the land of no return, may be he will find a way back, may be he will share his life with hers, may be he will share his breath with her, may be he will resurrect her with his love, may be he will, together with her, sing with the birds, dance with the deer, swim with the fish, and laugh with the flowers.
But, first he mused with the monks, and he concluded—
Death ends fun.