I am not Voltaire; and you are not Marquise Du Chatelet. But to me you are not less than Chatelet, although we have not lived together, studying Newton’s Principia, physics and history, playing in a private theatre like them. Physically we are two poles apart, but still your influence is within me, something very deep in the inner most part of my heart and over my creative mind. I wept bitterly, but not before you, when you told that you are in love with someone.
You are a brilliant woman, and you have a powerful intellect. When you told me that you were translating Vergil I was surprised as I had already read that the same work had been translated by Chatelet when she was in her sweet sixteen. Do you remember how I reacted then? I told, “For a long time I have been looking for Chatelet.”
“Chatelte!” exclaimed you.
“Marquise Du Chatelet, whom Voltaire would love and she dominated him sixteen years,” said I, looking into your eyes full life.
Well, today you are far from me and after a long period I have sit to write you. But space and time has not changed my mind; you are always before my eyes, no matter either they are closed or opened, though I struggle hard to erase your face, unsuccessful attempts one after another. Very frank to you, in spite of being a logical man I could not control my mind, and not even today. In fact I have lost my intellectual peace since you parted from me. The world teach me a lesson, “Nothing ever goes according to plan.”
But you still remain in the chamber of my mind.
My destiny has decided something different to me, I wanted to play with words so that one day I could express myself forcefully before the world through my pen, all my smile and tears. But all of sudden I was kicked into a world of secret agents where I was given a code number 144. It was my new identity, I lost my name for ever. And very soon I realized that a global war was going around me for military, industrial, economical and cultural supremacy and who were the players of this terrific game was not known to me, even till now I do not know about them. I was just a small fish in the dog eat’s dog world. And now the game is finished as I have been captured in a war zone and my fate has been decided- certainly I will be killed.
“God gave us reason as he gave feathers to birds and fur to bears,” These word of Voltaire never satisfied me, especially after meeting you. I realized that heart is more important than the mind. Again and again I tried my level best to come over my heart, I used all the method to activate my mind but all vent into vain. Centre of life is not mind but heart, not reason but feeling. You always laughed when I would explained Voltaire in this way. I enjoyed your laughing. Oh! Your tears were too horrible, at least to me.
It was a moonless night, you were busy with your telescope, in star-gazing. When you told me to watch a little star through your telescope, I bent down and felt warmth of your fascinating breath, though you were completely unaware of my feeling, about my warm feeling. After a long while when I disclosed the feeling of that day you said,
“A woman should never believe a man, after all a man is man.” Tears came in your eyes and I was in state of bewilderment. I could not understand the meaning of your tears and mysterious words. What do you mean by a man is a man ?
In order to understand the meaning of your tears and mysterious words I went deep into the mind of Segmund Frieud. Having read him thoroughly, about conscious, sub-conscious and un-conscious, I was surprised of his own statement, “I am not sure whatever I have written about woman is true, because, after all, I am not a woman. ” He was very much honest regarding this statement. Since then I left my efforts to understand the meaning of your tears and words. After that I became a silent lover.
But one day when you told me that you had a great regard to me, I was sad as black clouds. I never wanted your regard, but love, love of a woman, love of a complete woman like you.
Once you told me that I was genius, because I was a man of knowledge. The words of Schopenhaur reflected in my mind, “ The Fundamental condition of a genius is an abnormal pre-dominance of sensibility and irritability over reproductive power.”
I told you, “According to Schopenhaur I cannot be a genius, as, to him, enmity between genius and woman is universal. But I love woman.” Before you a lot of woman came in my life. I told you about all of those women. One of them was a professor, to whom I was fascinated lustfully, not intellectually and emotionally. You listened my words carefully and then discussed about the relationship between a man and a woman. So I am not a genius according to Schopenhaur.
Do you remember you were fond of movies and music. You’d like French film very much, specially the new wave movement’s films. You loved Godard too much. Do you still love him? In Indian film maker list you loved Gurudutt most. You always loved classics, unfortunately I was not in your list, Why not ? Why not?? Why not??? I hate you, I hate you from the bottom of my heart. Oh, no! still I love you like Voltaire would love Marquise du chatelet.
Chateltet, at the court of Lorraine, fell in love with Marquis de saint-Lambert, a young officer of the guard.
In the autumn of 1748 Voltaire accidentally discovered their relationship, and for some hours he was furious. Anyhow he managed to control of his mind like me when you first disclosed your relationship with a young boy. I was highly upset like Voltaire. Can you imagine about the mental condition a man who has lost his love? For you I cannot say the words of William Shakespear –“Fidelity! Thy the name is woman !” Yes it was one-sided love. There was no sign of fidelity. It was my fault and I had to pay for it, even today I am paying for it.
But how it was possible that you did not understand the language of eyes ? It is said that a woman has a sixth sense. Anyway forget it. The past has no meaning. But really it is possible to forget the past? Too difficult to do it. Better to say ”impossible.”
How can I forget your alive eyes, full of dreams and promise, your touching smile, blunt-cut hair, funny style and above all impulsive nature and bright mind ? I can’t.
Chatetelet finished her work over Newton a few hours before a child was born and died 10 days latter on 10 the September 1749. Voltaire was stricken. With passionate grief, he said to Saint-Lambert, whom he had anyhow accepted, “It is not at all a mistress I have lost; I have lost half of myself, a mind for whom mine was made; a friend of twenty years. I loved her as the most tender father loves her daughter.”
The news of your death came to me when I was in a war zone and I felt down. The words of your friend were still airing on my mobile and then and there I was arrested in my unconscious state of mind. The countdown has been started, the death is before my eyes. I am going to close my eyes so that I can see your face last time. Through these words let the world know the mystery and composition of love, endless love.These words are not for you, my sweet heart!, these words are not for you. I am just writing these words for my sake.
Now I am listening the sound of boots- the sound of death, they are coming close to me… one, two, three, four…where are you? Would you meet me after the death ? Is there life after the death?