A Love-Letter By A Young Writer :




Dear Kamala,


You know I love you. I know you love me too. There is no mystery to it. Still you have asked me what love is.


The root of the love is very simple, primitive and old fashioned. It is a thing so simple that I am almost shy to write it for fear of the derisive smile with which the wise cynics may accept and greet my words.


The thing I mean is love. Please excuse me for mentioning it as it is Christian love, compassion. One who has no true love has no Christian love. He is devoid of compassion in him.


If you realize this, you have a motive for existence a guide for action, a reason for courage and imperative necessity for intellectual honesty. Many wise men have defined love with their own feelings but I know no better one than the one given by Proust.


Love is space and tie measured by the hearts.


Man can leave his truth, his deepest truth but he cannot speak it. It is therefore, love becomes the ultimate human answer to the ultimate human question.


Love in reason terms, answers nothing. We say SATYAMEVA JAYTE i.e. Truth triumphs, truth conquers, but in reality, love conquers even truth. It conquers death itself. One who has no love in him also has no truth in him to put up the world of John Keats.


Beauty is truth.


Truth is beauty to me.


Love is truth.


Truth is love.


Do you wonder why I want you? What love does is to arm it for the worth of life. In spite of life, love arms a man against all odds. It arms him even against death itself. With you in my arms, I need not be afraid of anything in the world. We shall face death together in each other’s arms.


By accident of fortune one may rule the world but for a time being. By virtue of love, one may rule the world, but forever. I heartily wish that with the force of mutual love, we should conquer the world and worldly possessions. I assure you that there would not be insurmountable uphill task which we shall not overcome.


Before I fell in love with you, I was a political theorist. I lacked something essential to a socialist-love of mankind, perhaps. Ever since I fell in love with you, I became an absolutely different man from what I was before being in your love. I have now realized that without love of a woman, I was only a dry author deeply rooted in the desert of life. In the rich fertile soil of your heart, the seed of my love has spot to flower to give peace and everlasting love and joy. Since I had met you, I had begun to see everything differently. In the flame of your love, everything looks bigger, better and brighter.


Yours truly in love,


Ramesh




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