"Oh, Roopa, my hope,
I'm aware that my move would agitate you. But how am I to portray the thousand deaths I died wanting to avoid distressing you.
All these days, I've chosen to suffer silently without making you privy to my predicament. Then, it dawned on me that I owe it to you to let you know that a poor soul is bathing in the warmth of love that is inspired by you. That apart, do I have any right to deny my love its legitimate expression? How does that matter even if it's unrequited?
On that fateful evening, when I'd first seen you, I felt as if the flood of love that spurted out of my heart would drown me to death. Unable to hold on my own, I ventured to seek your hand for support. Thus, as I was nearing you, I'd seen Sathyam coming to you with those ice-cream cones. Oh, how my heart froze, fearing that you're married. But then, when I realized that you're my friend's wife, I rejoiced at his fortune, and chose to bury my love for you in the depths of my heart. Since I am not supposed to love you as woman and as I couldn't live without loving you, I forced myself to adore you as a sister instead.
But it didn't take me long to realize that the brotherly affection is too limited to reflect the manly love I feel for you. Possessed as I am by carnal passion for you, my suffocation in the fraternal garb has been demeaning my soul ever since. Why, don't I know that you too haven't failed to notice the pain I experienced in those ungainly brotherly shoes? Now that you're privy to my predicament, my only hope is that you would be sensitive to my sentiment. Well, am I not nursing the love you've given birth to? Aren't you aware I love you as a woman and adore you as a person?
I believe that my sense of dignity demands of me to disclose my love to you. And what do I seek in return from you for my devotion to your person? I only beg for your indulgence in letting me love you till my last breath. Since it's in your knowing now, how I see my love acquiring a new meaning. If only you let me love you, I'll feel rewarded no end for that. Were you to pity my wretched soul, I would feel vindicated as well? Either way, now I am at your mercy, and I know your nobility wouldn't belittle my love and betray my secret. But were you to give away my sentiment to any to make a mockery of it, my blood would be on your hands. And cursing your insensitivity, my restless soul would suffer eternally in heaven living like in hell.
Dying for your understanding,
Ever yours in devotion, I remain,
Yours aspiringly,
Prasad the hopeful."
An excerpt from the author's Benign Flame: Saga of love, serialized in MatruBharti https://www.matrubharti.com/book/19893092/benign-flame-saga-of-love-1
