My heart broke in shame and sorrow. I suddenly knew how much crying there was in me, and how little love. I knew at last how lonely I was. But I couldn’t respond. My culture had taught me all the wrong things well. So I lay completely still and gave no reaction at all. But the soul has no culture. The soul has no nations. The soul has no color or accent or way of life. The soul is forever. The soul is one. And when the heart has its moment of truth and sorrow, the soul can’t be stilled.
I clenched my teeth against the stars. I closed my eyes. I surrendered to sleep. One of the reasons we crave for love and seek it so desperately is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep in the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.
This book is just what I have been looking for. It’s a beautifully written account of Shantaram’s life in Bombay where he seeks refuge after escaping from a prison. It’s amazing how much love and care a man can bestow upon others even when he’s devoid of all hope in life and lost everyone he ever cherished. It’s a book for everyone. A story very well told.