Bibliophile
How two people read a book is perhaps the same. How they understand it is always different.
~ Suranya
The First Letter
He was struggling with his first letter to her. He had strangely written thousands of letters before. To his mother. To his seniors and subordinates. No letter left him in loss of words like it did today. What could be written to her? He had promised to write in an impulse. For when he was leaving for the battlefield the day after marrying her, maybe because he had seen it in her eyes. Tears held back. Worries concealed with a smile. And a sense of loneliness, A sense of getting lost in a palace full of unknown people. Truth be said, he didn't know what to tell his new bride. But what he did was to assure that he would write to her. For the first time, the sleepless night made him sit with a pen and paper and scribble. He had never paid heed to his words or letters before. They usually talked of politics and his well-being. But she... She was like a poem to his heart. Gentle, Deep. And mysterious. Reading between the lines was not easy when it came to her. He had wondered at times ...
