Candles in storm

As I come to know you more and more through your work, life and vision or principle, whatever it may be, which has guided you all along...I am getting closer to the meaning of life. Every other person, specially from the slick middle class considers himself a writer, a poet or a prophet when the grass is green and when it is spring. But it is people like you, you who stand holding a candle in the dark, windy nights, all alone, by himself. As you witness the bastion, what yesterday were the edifices of strong beliefs, the dreams of your younger days crumbling before your eyes, I can feel what you must be feeling. Such times when you are there on your own. People have shied away from this challenge, cowardly retreated to their own middle class salaried jobs, to do and think nothing beyond themselves, beyond what is theirs.
It is easy to grow and write under the shadows of illustrious figures who you know are the actual custodians for the surviving language and culture. Who have the answers and who are answerable to the discomfiting questions that hold these edifices strong and unchallenged. But one day you find that they are all gone. What you took up becomes you. It becomes essential that you know and face the hollowness of all ideals and beliefs that led entire societies into historic convulsions. It is in such times, you have to stand up all alone, for yourself and for what you believe in. After immense disillusionment, after knowing the truth, after losing all hope comes the moment when you decide to take up the cause of faith.

Dad, it must be so for you now. Even as you see the withering days of your life pass away each day remember that you have nurtured a seed in me, I will hold the candle in my life and weather the blows and challenges that come my way. From the darkest hours of hopelessness and dejection emerges the promise of hope and whether you want to fight for it.