Dear Comrade,
I know you will never read this, and I don’t have any other way of saying this to you. I will still write this letter for you because nothing else helps me feel more connected to you today. I promise to keep it short.
It’s been two years now since I heard the devastating news of your passing. I still regret not being in touch with you towards the end of your life, not seeing you one last time.
Today, consumed by the ever-hungry facet of consumption, overtaken by the ever-growing habits of the self, I feel defeated. Voices like yours don’t exist; a comrade like you isn’t around to help me think clearly, feel optimistic, or have a plan of action. Our dreams of an equal world lie in tatters, our ideals of radical love for all, a future for all, a happiness of belonging — seem unachievable ever more. The world is overtaken by selfish zeal to do better than others, and increasingly, I am too. I am increasingly pessimistic about the collective future, and optimistic about the future of the self. I am, too, overtaken by a zeal to consume, and I don’t like it at all — but there is no alternative to survive. I worry that everyone is caught in the same trap, just like how they would have wished. Most of those who can still identify the trap for what it is feel helpless to act or for their actions to have any effect. I will be honest: I feel weak against an invisible enemy of the people, and I lack the clarity of thought, the ideological optimism you provided me with so often.
I have little left of you other than our email threads and informative chats, and some clear memories that were lessons in themselves. They taught me what clarity of purpose is, what true selflessness is, and what ideological action means. Many who call themselves comrades of the masses lack this clarity, and it’s not their fault. The movement misses comrades like you — well-read, but ears deep in the ground.
Today, and for all New Year’s, I will miss you. We are losing. But I keep telling myself, just like you kept telling me: We shall overcome. And our love will win.
Rest in power,
Debdutta.
Debdutta Paul 