66 Love Letters : A Letter Celebrating Cupid’s Victory





My Dear Komal,


Love is a strange passion. No body knows when that moment of cupid’s victory comes. Every body becomes a poet at the touch of love. Near a heap of earth which looked like a pillow placed on a bed and which was soon going to burst forth into flowers and on which a violent bent its head in order to enjoy rest, we two, each the best lover of the other sat.


Our hands were firmly clasped with moisture that arose then. We looked fixedly into each others eyes. From that clasping of hands there issued an arrow which brought into focus the light of your eyes, bent on each other.


That firm clasp of the hands was the only means at our disposal to bring us close to each other and to unite us. All that we could do by them was the reflection of love in each others eyes. Just as between two equally powerful armies, fate might hold the victory in the balance, so our souls which had left our bodies to rise to a state of bliss and quietude, hung between both of us. Supposing there stood near us a stranger who had got his soul purified by a similar process and soon he was capable of understanding the language of the soul and because of his purified love had forgotten his body and had concentrated all his faculties in his mind. He was though not knowing which soul spoke because both the souls meant and spoke something that might have undergone a fresh lease of purification.


I am grateful to you for this reawakening.


Yours lovingly,


Hamid

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