Letters of “Love” from “Love”: “God, Blade Aur Love Story”
“Mumma, neend nahi aa rahi hai… koi achhi story sunao na?”
“Theek hai,” Mumma smiled. “Saalo pehle ek rajya mein ek raja tha aur uska ek nanha sa pyara beta tha…”
“Mummaaa!” the kid groaned. “Kitni baar wahi boring story sunao gi? Ek new story sunao na! Achha batao, aap aur papa kaise mile? Aur shaadi kaise hui?”
Letter of Love from “Love”
Because Sometimes Destiny Needs a Little Defiance
Hemanth: Hi Ishan,
How’re you doing? When’s the interview?
Ishan: Honestly, I don’t know, Hemanth. My horoscope looks terrible this week. And my interview — my dream interview — is tomorrow. The predictions say I shouldn’t attempt anything important now or it’ll fail. And you know what? My horoscope has never been wrong. Out of all the weeks in my life, it had to be this one.
Hemanth: (laughs uncontrollably) Hahahahahahaha! Oh man, hahahahaha!
Ishan: Yeah, yeah. Go on, laugh. Make fun of me and my beliefs. You’ll stop laughing when something like this comes true in your own life. People like you call this superstition. But you’ll believe in Superman, Iron Man, or even time travel — and yet dismiss horoscopes because they’re “Indian” and not “science.”
Hemanth: I’m not mocking you, Ishan. I laughed because you’re letting your horoscope control your life instead of guiding it. I don’t deny predictions. But they’re not meant to imprison you in fear. Think of them like a roadmap — they’re guidance, not shackles.
Ishan: Easy for you to say. You don’t believe in them. You’ve got nothing to lose. I’ve got everything to lose.
Hemanth: That’s where you’re wrong. I do believe in them — and I’ve lived through what you’re feeling.
Ishan: What do you mean?
Hemanth: Rani.
Ishan: (teasing) Your wife Rani? That amazing woman? I still wonder what she saw in you. She deserves way better.
Hemanth: (smirks) You’ll never change. Anyway, listen. When Rani and I wanted to marry, we had everything against us. Our parents, our families, and yes — even the stars.
We’d been friends and colleagues. Outsiders in a new city, we bonded fast. We explored, laughed, and slowly, friendship grew into something deeper. But confessing wasn’t easy.
One day, at our favorite café, out of nowhere, Rani asked me: “Do you love me?”
I nearly choked on my coffee. In a panic, I denied it. “No, of course not. We’re just friends!”
She raised her eyebrows, smirked, and teased me: “What’s wrong with you? Can a girl never be friends with a guy? Or is every friendship supposed to turn into love?”
I laughed nervously, but inside I was sinking. A few days later, I broke. I confessed everything — that I loved her.
She stared at me for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Finally! I thought you’d never admit it, duffer.”
That was us. Full of laughter, drama, and heart.
Two years later, we decided to marry. And then the storm began. Parents on both sides disagreed. Convincing them was like living in Game of Thrones, Hunger Games, and Bigg Boss — all rolled into one. After months of fighting, both families reluctantly agreed. And then came the final test: horoscopes.
We went to the family priest. He looked at our charts and said, coldly:
“Anyone but her. If they marry, they won’t be happy. The marriage will not last. Within two years, they will separate.”
That one sentence destroyed everything. For once, both families agreed: no marriage. And just like that, Rani and I were torn apart.
I drowned in alcohol. My only friend was Old Monk. For two years, I lived like a ghost. My parents kept bringing proposals. I’d sit silently and say, “If you like her, I’ll marry.” Because for me, life had ended when I lost Rani.
Then, out of nowhere, my parents relented. They said, “Fine, go marry Rani.” But by then, anger consumed me. “Why now? After ruining two years of my life? She’s probably married and happy. I won’t ruin her life again.”
I stormed out.
Weeks later, there was a loud knock at my door. Hungover, furious, I opened it — and there she was. Rani. Crying. Fuming. Before I could speak, slap! And then another.
“You idiot! You broke up with me because of a horoscope? Without even asking what I wanted? Do you even know how I lived without you?”
I mumbled excuses, saying I didn’t want to hurt her, that both our parents had decided. She slapped me again. “You fool. I wanted you to fight for me. To choose me. Instead, you let me go.”
And then, between anger and tears, she asked, “Do you love me?”
This time, there was no hesitation. “Yes. And I’ll never let go again.”
We married soon after. It’s been ten years now. We’ve had fights, struggles, challenges — but we’re still here. Strong. Happy. Together.
So Ishan, here’s the point: The pandit wasn’t wrong when he said we’d face trouble. We are opposites. We do clash. But instead of letting that prediction destroy us, we chose to use it as a warning — and worked on those differences. That’s why we survived. That’s why we’re thriving.
Horoscopes are not prisons. They’re lessons. They’re not meant to stop you from living — they’re meant to teach you how to live better.
So go to your interview. Stop fearing your stars. Remember: if I could marry the girl I was “never supposed to,” then you can absolutely land the job you’re “not supposed to.”
Stop letting the horoscope scare you. Prepare, go in with confidence, and treat any bad forecast as a prompt to be extra careful, not to give up. If I could marry the girl everyone told me I shouldn’t, you can absolutely win this interview despite what your stars say.
That, Ishan, is the truth about love. Horoscopes, predictions, doubts — they can warn you, but they cannot define you. Love isn’t about avoiding storms. It’s about choosing each other again and again when storms come. When you become the kind of person who chooses the relationship even when it’s hard — and then find someone who does the same — you’ve found the best kind of love. You’ll fight, you’ll cry, you’ll argue, and even when you feel like leaving, you’ll stay — because you chose to stay. That is your best love. And you will defy the destiny itself.
There was a gurukulam with a few disciples in the southern parts of India. One day, a disciple approached his Guruji and asked:
Disciple: “Guruji, you teach us many things. But two of your teachings intrigue and confuse me. You ask us to be the strongest people we can be, and yet, you also ask us to follow non-violence. If I cannot use my strength, then why did you make us strong in the first place, only to tell us not to use it?”
Guruji: “Do you see the great mountain behind our gurukulam?”
Disciple: “Yes, Guruji, I do.”
Guruji: “Do you think I could climb to its peak in half a day?”
Disciple: “You are strong, Guruji, but I think it is impossible even for you. Even I, in my prime, would take more than half a day to climb it.”
Guruji: “Good. Now, what if I asked you to climb it in half a day or less? What would you say?”
Disciple: “I would tell you, Guruji, that it is not possible for me.”
Guruji: “And if I forced or pressured you to do it?”
Disciple: “Then I would ask—were you able to do it when you were my age? Or I would say, Guruji, please show me how to do it first. If you can, then I will try.”
Guruji smiled.
Guruji: “Exactly. That is why I trained you in warfare. Not because you must always use it, but so that you and others understand that violence is not the solution to all problems. When a weak man preaches non-violence, people dismiss it, saying he speaks so only because he cannot fight. But when a strong man, fully capable of fighting, chooses non-violence—people listen. They know it comes from wisdom, not weakness. Remember this: it is always better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a battlefield. When you have strength yet choose peace, people will respect you, because you are showing them a higher path—that strength must be used only when necessary.”
The disciple bowed.
Disciple: “Thank you, Guruji, for enlightening me. But just as we disciples listened to you and became who we are today, won’t others also do the same?”
Guruji: “Let me tell you the story of Raja Hemanand Pratap Varma…”
The Tale of Raja Hemanand Pratap Varma
Raja Hemanand Pratap Varma was a just and kind king. His people loved him deeply, for he was wise and compassionate. Under his rule, there was peace and prosperity—no crimes, no wars, only flourishing trade and happiness.
Whenever rival kings threatened war, Hemanand would ask them: “What is it that you truly need? Why waste lives and resources? Let us resolve this peacefully.” He always extended the olive branch, providing what they sought to avoid bloodshed.
This attitude stemmed from his past. As a child, Hemanand was weak and often bullied. His father, a warrior king, had died in battle. From that time, Hemanand vowed never to follow the path of violence. He shunned warfare and physical training, choosing instead to rule through peace.
His ideals made his kingdom prosper. Neighboring kings saw him as harmless, and merchants from far and wide flocked to his peaceful, wealthy land. But this very prosperity attracted the attention of Virata Samrat, a cruel and greedy ruler.
Virata challenged Hemanand: “Let us wage war. The victor shall rule both kingdoms.”
But Hemanand stayed true to his ideals. He refused bloodshed and instead sent 1,000 carts of gold, saying: “Let us avoid war, for it will only destroy our people. Accept this token, and let us live as friends.”
Virata was astonished—yet insulted. He thought: “If Hemanand can spare 1,000 carts of gold for peace, how much more treasure must he hold? And how dare he imply that I can be bought?”
His pride wounded, Virata decided to exploit Hemanand’s weakness—his kindness. He accepted the offer, pretended friendship, and slowly gained Hemanand’s trust. Soon, he sat in the king’s court, influencing matters of state.
Once he had learned enough, Virata struck. He betrayed Hemanand, killed him, and exiled his wife and son. Virata seized the throne and ruled the once-prosperous kingdom with cruelty.
Guruji’s voice grew solemn.
Guruji: “Do you see, my child? Raja Hemanand had peace in his heart, but no strength to protect it. Peace without strength is fragile, like a lamp in the wind. Strength without peace is destructive, like fire in the forest. True wisdom is in having both—strength to defend, and the will to choose peace.”
The disciple bowed deeply, his doubts dissolved.
Disciple: “Now I understand, Guruji. Peace is indeed the greatest weapon—but only when it is guarded by strength.”
Edit courtesy: ChatGpt
Mom: “It is okay Tanay, tomorrow is your dad’s birthday.
We will plan something for his birthday.
You know he loves you. He is just worried about you. That’s all.”
Me: “But Mom, Dad never celebrates his Birthday! Remember how he sent his friends and colleagues away when we planned for a surprise last year?
I do not know why he does not celebrate his birthday. All those people really felt bad. He could have at least thanked them for coming!
I am not sure if he would like it this time either and I am not going to go through another round of quarrel with him!”
Mom: “Let us not call anybody home tomorrow. We will bake a special cake for him before he comes home from work. Sounds Fun?
And I am sure this time he might not do something like that…”
Me: “Fine! As long as it changes his mood and gets me my keys back! Love you Mom. Thank you for being there.”
My Journey 