The Man Who Sang to the Wind | A Ponmanipudi Story About Love, Loss & Meaning

The Man Who Sang to the Wind

The hottest hour in Ponmanipudi belonged to the hot blazing winds. ...

Even the crows stopped their conversation. Ganga, the mother cow, called to Cauvery to come inside in the shade....

The earth throbbed with heat and air itself looked tired but angry.

Only one sound drifted across Ananda Neelam.....a man's voice, soft and melodious...A tune and words nobody understood....

Bent over a vegetable bed...Fayed worked without hurry. His spade rose and fell rhythmically as he continued to sing the enchanting song, lost and oblivious to the heat.

The language sounded old, musical, rhythmic, mesmerising...Persian....or perhaps Urdu.

Dr. Chari couldn't tell, as his legs tapped to the rhythm by itself.

But surely, Dr Chari felt.....the song made the afternoon cooler.

Dr Chari was sitting under the old jackfruit tree swaying his head, enjoying the tune and watching Fayeed...

In the shade, beside Chari... sat Sita.....watching everything. Arjuna lay stretched beside her....one ear asleep...one ear awake...

Every now and then Sita lifted her head, looked toward Fayed....satisfied herself that he was all right. Then she rested again.

Dr. Chari smiled.

"I have never seen anyone enjoy digging so much."

Fayed laughed without stopping his song.

After some time...Dr. Chari called,

"Fayed!"

The singing stopped.

"For a minute."

Fayed walked towards the shade wiping sweat from his forehead. His kurta clung to his back. His palms were covered with red earth....

Yet...his face glowed in some divine feeling...

Dr. Chari handed him the brass water pot.

Fayed drank slowly, eyes closed, still far away....and as though even water deserved gratitude.

"What were you singing?"

Fayed smiled.

"A Persian Sufi song."

"What does it mean?"

Fayed looked beyond the fields faraway...as though someone stood there....

"It is about love."

Dr. Chari laughed.

"I guessed that much."

Fayed smiled wider.

"It is a man speaking to the woman he loves."

"What does he say?"

Fayed's voice became almost a whisper...almost lost....

"He tells her..."

'I walk beside you under the moon...

I lose myself in your eyes...

Every breath remembers you...

Distance is only something the body understands.'

Even the breeze seemed to stop in total "sanñata"...silence...

Dr. Chari asked softly, reverentially....

"You sing beautifully."

Fayed shook his head.

"I don't sing."

"No?"

"I remember."

"Your wife must love this song."

Fayed looked towards the western sky.

His smile never disappeared.

"I hope so."

For several moments...nobody spoke.

Only the leaves rustled gently in unison...

Then Dr. Chari asked the question everyone in Ponmanipudi had wondered always..

"Fayed..."

"Hmm?"

"Why do you keep helping everyone?"

"You repair roofs."

"You refuse money from old people at your dhaàba."

"You feed strangers."

"You work in everyone's fields."

"You give away more than you keep."

"Why?"

Fayed rinsed the brass tumbler placing it upside down.

Then smiled and said simply...

"Zakath."

Dr. Chari nodded softly....beginning to understand....

"Giving charity?"

Fayed shook his head gently.

"People think Zakath is only money."

"It isn't."

"What is it then?"

Fayed looked at his calloused hands.

"If God has given me strength..."

"I must give strength."

"If He has given me time..."

"I must give time."

"If He has given me bread..."

"I must give bread."

"If He has given me love..."

"I must not keep it locked inside me."

"And if nobody thanks you?"

Fayed laughed in gentle amusement...

"Doctor..."

"Trees don't send bills for shade."

Dr. Chari smiled...

"You speak about love as though she were sitting beside you."

Fayed looks towards the distant hills....

"When love is true, it stops asking, 'Where are you?' and begins asking, 'How can I honour what we shared?'"

He stood up, picked up the spade......

And before walking back...began singing again...The same song....The same smile...The same invisible lovely companion walking beside him...lost again....

That evening...rasam steamed gently on the teak dining table...

Narayana Shastrigal mixed rice slowly. Radha served vegetables and curry...

Chami listened while pretending not to. Sita and Mylo urged for titbits.....

Dr. Chari smiled.

"I met Fayeed, a extraordinary man today."

He spoke of the song....of Zakath...of the afternoon beneath the jackfruit tree.

Then Chari said quietly,

"Whoever his wife is..."

"She must be the luckiest and most blessed woman alive."

Narayan Shastrigal stopped eating....

For a long time...he said nothing.

Then the Senior Shastrigal placed his hand gently on the table.

"Son..."

Dr. Chari looked up.

"Do you know..."

"Fayed's wife, Sayeedà passed away in Iran."

"...fifteen years ago."

Silence.....everybody sat up....

Even Chami stopped eating.

Dr. Chari whispered,

"But..."

"He sang to her."

Narayan Shastrigal smiled gently.

"Yes."

"He spoke as though she were beside him."

"Yes."

"He said he walks with her every night."

"Yes."

"How?"

The old Shastrigal looked towards the darkness outside.

Then said quietly,

"There are loves..."

"...that death cannot forget or persuade....."

Much later... on my night walk...I walked past, Fayed's small house.....the lamp was still burning....

Inside...he was softly singing a melodious Persian song.....

There was only one cup of tea.

Only one pillow.

Only one shadow.

Yet...he smiled as though someone sat opposite him...listening......

Perhaps love is not measured by how long two people walk together... but by how faithfully one heart continues to walk with the other.🌿

Welcome to Ponmanipudi... where nothing is as it seems.

About Ponmanipudi-

Ponmanipudi is an original village created by Sriranga V.N. Here, ordinary lives become extraordinary stories. Every tale opens another door into a timeless world of unforgettable people, ancient temples, quiet streets, loyal dogs, hidden mysteries, laughter, heartbreak, and hope.

Welcome to a village where every stone, every tree, and every soul has a story waiting to be discovered.

Every week, another story. Every story, another soul of Ponmanipudi.