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Letters for Him by Elsa Thomas

August 3, 2014

Letters for Him by Elsa Thomas

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I found letters. Yes, I found five hundred and forty seven hand-written letters. I never entered her room when she was alive. Actually she never allowed us to enter her room. She guarded the room as though it was home to some kind of a treasure or there lived some unknown secret in there. As kids, we always tried sneaking into the room for which my brother and I were given those periodical reprimanding. Even then, the mystery behind the room left us, especially me, intrigued. I always wanted to know what exactly she was guarding. Our parents tried their level best to stop us from plotting our immature conspiracies of entering the forbidden room. They also tried to force her out of her room with little success. After a few years, my brother went on to study abroad and eventually lost interest in the obscurity or rather what he termed murkiness. I grew up to respect her privacy but I did want to know what it was that hid itself behind the room.

Today after twenty-five years of having tried and being defeated at the deed, I was at liberty to enter the room and investigate the obscurity without being obstructed at doing so. Her room was indeed a mystery. Her room was different from the other rooms of the house. It was a room which did not exactly have a shape that I knew of to explain. It was dark and had a huge fireplace. It did not showcase anything that needed a guard. There were only three pieces of furniture which was inadequate for such a spacious room. There was a book shelf with a collection of books which were inestimable; priceless to the soul of a book lover. One side of the room was of glass from top to bottom. The glass wall was decorated with creepers which had beautiful little white flowers. The wall was perfect. Nobody could see through the glass from the outside but sitting in here, one could watch the world. I was unaware of such an aspect that existed in my house. I suppose it was the hazard of having a huge house and a few inmates who only met for dinner. My family barely met each other in spite of having stayed together under one roof for so many years. Well, nobody bothered to enter her room after her death. My parents felt it was nothing but a waste of time to do something about the room. They left for a business tour yesterday evening and I was free to enter the world of mysteries. The window was amazing. It was as though I was from another world and the glass window was a barrier between two worlds. Everything looked amazing from here. The road to my house looked beautiful. It was inviting someone to sit there and wait for someone, for something or for a message to arrive. It forced me to spend about an hour just sitting there and enjoying what was deprived to me. I felt as though I could sit there for hours waiting for someone to walk down the road.

After scurrying the room for an hour, I found the box for which she fought the world. I found the controversial box with the controversial content in the controversial room of the controversial member of my family. I found five hundred and forty seven hand-written letters in the box. But what was outlandish in here was that these letters were not posted. They were written and stored in the box for almost forty years! But why did she not post them? I sure did know the accepted norm that it was bad manners to read the letters of another person but the curiosity that I had nurtured for the past twenty-five years did not respect the norm and with a little bit of guilt, I started reading the letters; letters that she wrote; letters she never posted; letters she guarded from the world.

I do not remember for how long I sat down right in front of the glass wall, reading all the letters that she had written. Those were letters written by her to him; to the one who defined her; to the one who meant the world to her. Now I knew the reason behind her not having posted them. I knew the reason. I knew it all. What was kept in dark from my brother and me was now in the light for me to see. I could feel all that she felt till the end of her life. The flood of emotions that stormed in her; I could now feel it. I spent the entire day crying. I felt the love she had in her. I may not be able to feel it the way she did. It was her at the end who had written the letters and whose emotions I felt swelling in me through the letters.

He and she were deeply in love. I did not need any proof for it. They could not unite due to the banal reason that ruined almost every love story of their times; religion. The reason was pretty baseless; baseless for you and me but a pivotal reason for their separation. They did try to convince their respective families with little or rather no success. They tried their level best to be able to prove how much in love they were. Young people in love often ran away from their homes to live the life of their choice. But the kind of individuals they were, they had decided not to cause any harm to their family and decided to move on in life but so were their love for one another so true and honorable; chaste and pure. They decided to part ways but remain faithful. They did as their family wanted them to. It was not that they could not have broken the chords of the so called society and lived life at their terms but that they valued the roles they played, that of a son and a daughter respectively. They did not want to name a relation so beautiful at the cost of a relation so sacred. At some point, I felt that their decision was partly absurd but as I kept reading I realized that they had their reasons. It was easy for them to have eloped and lived a life of happiness but they were different. They respected their parents but could not forget the bond they shared.

They did not marry but they could also not live without each other. They vowed never to get married and were true till she got to know of his death a few years back and of course till she died. Even after his death, she used to write letters to him .She talked it all through those letters which she never posted to him before his death but continued to write to him till she died. She lived an entire living with him through those letters. Every letter that I read made me feel strong in the presence of true and selfless love. Her last letter was written a day before she died. Her letters explained the kind of woman she was. Her letters helped me realize the depth of her love for this man and the fact that she lived all these years with him in her heart and having proved her faithfulness to her family.

Those letters were gems. It was the heart of a woman who lived all her life writing letters to her man knowing that the letters will never be sent to him. It was the essence of her life. It was the beauty of their relation. I spent a day and a half reading those letters. I felt as though the secret of an enchanting relation was revealed to me. I valued her feelings. I wished for such beauty in every relation. It was precious. She let go him but those memories were hers. It was hers alone. No caste, creed or religion could take it away from her. She nurtured them and loved for them. She poured out all that she had in her onto that piece of paper that never reached her lover but instead she lived with her reality in dignity in that closed room. Every day of hers transpired it. Every letter she had composed for him revealed the bliss she felt in those moments.

That moment I was forced to think of something that never struck me till I had read those letters. We lived every emotion as it came. Once over, it was long forgotten. Every relation we lived, did it even have the quintessential of a relation, the basis to be maintained? Were they not relations that were hollow? In spite of there being a relation, many of us are unable to maintain and respect it; be it our parents, our friends or our partners. We do not realize its importance till that relation cease to exist. What does not dawn upon us is that these are beautiful and delicate. It has to be taken care of painstakingly because of the beauty it exudes; the fragrance it emits. Taking care of it is not a mere duty but something that must come from within us. Here were people like you and me who never searched in depth for the love that beckoned to us and here was him and her who lived and died without seeing each other but for each other. The image they had of each other was that of their day of separation. He had not turned a day older for her nor had she aged a bit in his eyes. Their relation remained alive in those letters; a relation that did not have any name, a relation that only had two hearts that remained immortal in those letters.

I imagined her sitting right in front of the glass wall; waiting for the reply to those letters that remained in her box. I could feel it. I could see her sit right in front of the wall and wait. After reading the letters, I placed the letters back in its box, closed the room and locked it forever. I decided nobody should disturb the room in which lived true love; true love that defined him and her; true love that was rare.

Copyright 2014 Elsa Thomas

Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/742959

16 Comments
  1. Kiran K. permalink

    Beautiful. It was simply beautiful. I’ve been reading your posts through this blog. Elsa, you have it in you and I hope you keep improving like this. Looking forward to reading more of your work.

    • Elsa Thomas permalink

      Thank you Kiran. Appreciations force me to do some more and honest ones bring out the best. Thank you so very much.

  2. Beautiful, loved it to its core, loved it 🙂 🙂 Hugs to you for such wonderful story.Good Wishes.

    • Elsa Thomas permalink

      Thank you Ruchi. These little appreciations work wonders. Thank you so much for the hug. I hope I continue to give you good reads.

  3. Benita George permalink

    Beautiful!! I liked it. 🙂

  4. Vaibhav Chaturvedi permalink

    good style of writing
    but a little suspense could be created.

    • Elsa Thomas permalink

      Thank you Vaibhav. I will try getting in some suspense builder. 🙂

  5. Catherine C permalink

    Very beautiful. Just got lost in d words and the beauty of this small and enchanting passage. You should write more and maybe someday publish I for one will surely buy it

    • Elsa Thomas permalink

      Thank you for your kind words Catherine.

  6. Suchitra permalink

    Beautiful!!!!!!!!……….loved it

  7. Wonderful writing style. Thumbs up!

  8. Reblogged this on bychanceofserendipity and commented:
    Another one of mine

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