Dear Shruti
From: Phir le aaya Dil (Barfi)
Subject: Thanks for telling me that letting go is also love
A story where love spoke no words of its own, it was Shruti who unravelled the literature of red, bloomed in silence. A tale glittered at the clock tower thought of drowning in rain drafted a new novel orated in Phir le aaya dil. The ravages of unsaid love crammed in your soul felt surreal at the interval you saw Barfi at a cooker shop. The agony of separation found room in flooding eyes and smiling cheeks, but this time it was not you who beheld Barfi in your recollections, it was Mrs Sengupta this time who held her husband at the delay to see Barfi’s sight.
Even if you never coveted meeting Barfi again thanks to Phir le Aaya Dil that brought the aparts again. The love glued as clove sensed hesitation to ask for marriage but the captivating love you witnessed in Barfi’s eyes for Jhilmil plunged torment in your eyes. You welcomed the misery of incompletion in his life but never unsolicited his accomplished love with Jhilmil. Though this time you submit to love at a compelling state you realised that you made a mistake, this time your heart pounced to sing the unspoken stories and lit the unlit glory.
During this gloom of daylight silenced in a cramped bus, you comprehended that fate led you to come across this unfortunate zone, your drooling lashes implored to meet your laden love. But being fortunate enough, you perceived that Barfi belongs to Jhilmil and Jhilmil to Barfi, you adorned her space. You cognized that reality while crossing the road when the tram banged Jhilmil and another time when Jhilmil was hidden in the sculpture shop.
The story that found no space from your side at the clock tower discovered no hopes from Barfi’s side at Phir le aaya dil, at this speck of hour, he truly belonged to Jhilmil and you left them letting them draft their new story of love, making me realize that letting go is also love.
Love,
Anchal