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Then I was working in a press in Hyderabad as a Sub Editor. Deepthi joined it as a Research Associate. I had many attractions there but I halted at her. She was from a noted family in the Telugu film industry based at Hyderabad in India. There was no chance for me to meet her as part of our office work. I devised plans and somehow managed to meet her. She did not have time or interest to mind me. She occasionally threw looks at me. I interpreted them in my fashion and wove a web around me.
I sent her emails as one that knew her for ages. She responded to me angrily. I stopped communicating with her for sometime and again took it up. Falling in love and admiration with beautiful girls irrationally, illogically and madly was my habit. This time it was Deepthi that had to tolerate me. She did not know it then.
My friend told me not to do it minding her social and financial status but I ventured to do it. One day I typed out a long love letter in our office itself addressing her and posted it to her. I was prepared to face any disaster on the way. She met me after receiving and reading that love letter. She handled me softly and carefully trying not to hurt me. She talked with me for one minute. She consoled me as a sensitive girl. She expressed her view strongly but vaguely. She hinted me that I had better stopped it there. She told me that morning that she was resigning and leaving our office very soon. Separation is fuel to pain and suffering in the imaginary world of a sensitive and dreamy creature.
She soon left our office. I resumed sending her emails expressing my sense of pain and suffering. She did not respond. Since there was no much interaction between us in the office when she was there, I could not fill my emails with relevant and considerable content for long. I moved into the practice of narrating her stories thereafter. I knew her in many of her previous births. She was a girl and I was a boy in all those previous births. We were born in the Indian villages and towns then. We were close friends in all those births. Anything can happen in an imaginary world. We don’t have the tangible records of our previous births. I depended on this reality and wove story after story to send her daily. I explained toward the end of each story where and when I narrated that story to her in our previous births. I did not know whether she read my emails or not.
I could not continue this one-way pursuit of sending emails to her for long. She never replied me. Perhaps she chose to keep quiet to let me deliver more and stop somewhere on the way. I had to send her an email every day I went to office and then attend my office work. This was my commitment for no reason. I was pressed for time. I did what she expected from me. I stopped this email communication soon. I sent her 64 emails and one love letter in total by the time I stopped this journey of imaginations.
Love is a universal phenomenon. It might look mad and irrational to many but it happens in all ages, in all seasons and in all places. Love fills voids in humans and connects them with the rest of the world. The more the friction to realize it among many oddities and tests, the more interesting and memorable it turns and remains. Love is enjoyable in the present and heavy burden of haunting memories in future. It influences and paints human life differently. One’s character and fate decide what one derives from it.
The above is the synopsis of my second book which I wrote this morning to submit along with my manuscript to a publisher in the US.
