Rain poured softly the day Krishna first saw Purvi—draped in yellow, lighting incense at the Ganapati pandal. Their eyes met like a prayer answered. Thunder rolled, but all he heard was her laughter. From borrowed umbrellas to shared street-side chai, their story bloomed. Every rain after felt like a song only they understood. When they wed under cloudy skies, even the priest smiled, “Blessed by Bappa Himself.” Years passed, but every drizzle pulled them back to that pandal, that glance, that moment. Love, like rain, sometimes arrives quietly—soaking deep, leaving music in its wake. Krishna and Purvi were always meant to be.
Comments
Good ones. Navigated to the given link and found you have a large following for this.
Take care
Bikram's
@Rachna: Thanks!
@Meena: Ditto.....
@Ritesh: :)
@Insignia: Thanks..
@Jack:Yeah there are beautiful captures from around the world every week.
@Bikram: he he he.. I know I visited your post.
@Ranjana: Thanks a lot.
@Frans54: I exactly did that before clicking these pictures.. and you know the hot espresso had turned cold before I sipped on:)
Never mind I can order another drink.. :)
@Magiceye: Thanks soooo much!