Blue Detachment

Dearest Neela,

I know you are not well. The shadows beneath your eyes bear witness to how much weariness you carry in living. When a camera is thrust at your face, you have to force yourself to smile with great effort. In hiding all your sorrows behind lipstick, you've forgotten how much pain those delicate lips of yours have absorbed over time! Those deep eyes with which you slay men daily with kohl—I know how drenched they are with unshed tears. I know everything, Neela.

No matter how strong a shell you wear on the outside, I know how tender you are within. I applaud you for not yet allowing anyone to reach that soft, gentle core. Because you haven't let anyone see your true depths, I'm compelled to keep you at the very top of my heart's list.

How did you become so deep? Why does looking into your eyes make even someone like me—who cannot write—want to compose poetry? Why is there so much mystery within you?

I want to penetrate all your mysteries, conquer you, and carry you away to my own realm. I know you want no king, no kingdom either. But kings and kingdoms long to prostrate themselves at your feet, Neela. When your disheveled hair sets my heart trembling, tell me—where shall I hide? I know you won't reply to this letter, perhaps won't even read it.

I cannot understand how you live such a detached life while keeping everything around you so perfectly arranged. How were you able to traverse such distances? How could you remain indifferent to crowns even after winning them, day after day?

Neela, my Neela.
I love you, will love you all my life.

Yours,
A beggar king