A love letter - don't miss this really beautiful
My Dearest Darling B,
I had the choice of giving you flowers, greeting cards, or a bouquet, but I don't know why I chose to write a love letter to you instead.
I am not a poet, so I cannot write sonnets embellishing your beauty. I am not an eloquent writer, so I cannot compare you to the moon, sea, or stars. But there is something special I have that a poet or writer cannot express for you - my true love for you from my heart.
Do you remember the first time we met? It was at a party, and one of our friends introduced us. By some sheer magic, my first words uttered to you were, "Where are your wings? I thought angels carried them along wherever they went." I still don't know how I said that, but it worked. All I remembered about you that day was that you laughed beautifully at all my stupid jokes and anecdotes. Truthfully, most of them were copied from a Woody Allen stand-up act video I saw somewhere. I told you this only years later, fearing that you would reject me as unoriginal.
I didn't fall in love with your eyes, which exhibited the kindness of the Virgin Mary or the anger of Satan in a split second. I didn't fall in love with your lips, which were tulip-colored and had the freshness of a dewdrop on a lotus flower. I didn't fall in love with your long hair, which seemed to challenge the very existence of gravity whenever the wind blew through it. I didn't fall in love with your voice, which had the divineness of even bringing the dead back to life. I didn't fall in love with your hands, which were so soft and little that one wondered if God had sculpted them for weeks altogether.
I loved you when you patiently taught alphabets to the physically challenged kid in the neighborhood. I loved you when you were angry with your father for skipping his lunch. I loved you when you took all the blame for the withering of flowers, which was instead your sister's responsibility. I loved you when you cooked food for the neighborhood aunt day after day. All I fell hopelessly in love with was... YOU.
It took me six months and eight days to realize that I had been suffering from your love and the only potion that could save me was your acceptance to marry me. Three days and 121 drafts later, I managed to write a love letter to you explaining why you could marry me and still be happy. I had not even been as nervous for my grade exams as I was when I waited for your response to the letter. It seemed as if that day the hands of the clock refused to move apart, and as if I was in a time warp. I must have opened my mailbox once every five minutes and kept looking at my phone as if my life depended on it... and yes, it did. Thank God, you saved me. The moment you said yes, I yelled loud enough to be heard from the other side of the Atlantic.
I thought that a perfect marriage existed only in romantic novels... until we had one. Each day was wonderful waking up looking at you. Some people say that marriage is boring because the sheer prospect of waking up to see the same face day after day is horrifying. Unlucky chaps... they were not married to someone as wonderful as you. I loved those wrinkles under your eyes even though you hated them. Do you remember how you cried when you lost my birthday present in the shop and couldn't surprise me? Why would I need a gift when I had you with me?
But it all crash-landed one day when we discovered that you were suffering from a brain tumor. I thought that I loved you more than anyone, but it seemed that even the gods loved you a lot. Being mortal, I hardly stood a chance fighting them. The hardest thing is living in the fear of the death of someone you love more than your life. By sheer misfortune, I could not share your pain and instead watched you suffer from it. Five months later, the gods summoned you and snatched you away from my possession.
They say that life has to move on. Maybe it does. People ask me if I remember you often. You have to forget something to remember it back. So I guess it doesn't apply to me. As I write this, I am at the same place on the beach where you asked me, "How much do you love me?".
I will never understand why women need to be reassured of the vows of love. But as a well-read man, I answered something that I read somewhere, "I love you more than you love yourself."
Your loving husband, V
He rolled the letter and inserted it inside the bottle and threw it far into the waters. Sometimes people say that he is a madman... but does it matter to him?
From India, Pune
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My Dearest Darling B,
I had the choice of giving you flowers, greeting cards, or a bouquet, but I don't know why I chose to write a love letter to you instead.
I am not a poet, so I cannot write sonnets embellishing your beauty. I am not an eloquent writer, so I cannot compare you to the moon, sea, or stars. But there is something special I have that a poet or writer cannot express for you - my true love for you from my heart.
Do you remember the first time we met? It was at a party, and one of our friends introduced us. By some sheer magic, my first words uttered to you were, "Where are your wings? I thought angels carried them along wherever they went." I still don't know how I said that, but it worked. All I remembered about you that day was that you laughed beautifully at all my stupid jokes and anecdotes. Truthfully, most of them were copied from a Woody Allen stand-up act video I saw somewhere. I told you this only years later, fearing that you would reject me as unoriginal.
I didn't fall in love with your eyes, which exhibited the kindness of the Virgin Mary or the anger of Satan in a split second. I didn't fall in love with your lips, which were tulip-colored and had the freshness of a dewdrop on a lotus flower. I didn't fall in love with your long hair, which seemed to challenge the very existence of gravity whenever the wind blew through it. I didn't fall in love with your voice, which had the divineness of even bringing the dead back to life. I didn't fall in love with your hands, which were so soft and little that one wondered if God had sculpted them for weeks altogether.
I loved you when you patiently taught alphabets to the physically challenged kid in the neighborhood. I loved you when you were angry with your father for skipping his lunch. I loved you when you took all the blame for the withering of flowers, which was instead your sister's responsibility. I loved you when you cooked food for the neighborhood aunt day after day. All I fell hopelessly in love with was... YOU.
It took me six months and eight days to realize that I had been suffering from your love and the only potion that could save me was your acceptance to marry me. Three days and 121 drafts later, I managed to write a love letter to you explaining why you could marry me and still be happy. I had not even been as nervous for my grade exams as I was when I waited for your response to the letter. It seemed as if that day the hands of the clock refused to move apart, and as if I was in a time warp. I must have opened my mailbox once every five minutes and kept looking at my phone as if my life depended on it... and yes, it did. Thank God, you saved me. The moment you said yes, I yelled loud enough to be heard from the other side of the Atlantic.
I thought that a perfect marriage existed only in romantic novels... until we had one. Each day was wonderful waking up looking at you. Some people say that marriage is boring because the sheer prospect of waking up to see the same face day after day is horrifying. Unlucky chaps... they were not married to someone as wonderful as you. I loved those wrinkles under your eyes even though you hated them. Do you remember how you cried when you lost my birthday present in the shop and couldn't surprise me? Why would I need a gift when I had you with me?
But it all crash-landed one day when we discovered that you were suffering from a brain tumor. I thought that I loved you more than anyone, but it seemed that even the gods loved you a lot. Being mortal, I hardly stood a chance fighting them. The hardest thing is living in the fear of the death of someone you love more than your life. By sheer misfortune, I could not share your pain and instead watched you suffer from it. Five months later, the gods summoned you and snatched you away from my possession.
They say that life has to move on. Maybe it does. People ask me if I remember you often. You have to forget something to remember it back. So I guess it doesn't apply to me. As I write this, I am at the same place on the beach where you asked me, "How much do you love me?".
I will never understand why women need to be reassured of the vows of love. But as a well-read man, I answered something that I read somewhere, "I love you more than you love yourself."
Your loving husband, V
He rolled the letter and inserted it inside the bottle and threw it far into the waters. Sometimes people say that he is a madman... but does it matter to him?
From India, Pune
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