When Dostoevsky's death sentence was commuted to four years in prison and he was sent to the frozen steppes of Siberia, he wrote a letter to his brother before leaving

 Thoughts are raging.

When Dostoevsky's death sentence was commuted to four years in prison and he was sent to the frozen steppes of Siberia, he wrote a letter to his brother before leaving

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Dear Brother,

I am not depressed at all. I didn't even let the grief get to me. Life is life everywhere. It is what is inside us and not what is outside.

There will be many more people with me. To live as an ordinary human being among the people, to always live like this and not to care about suffering. This is life. This is the real purpose of life. I understood this very well. This idea is embedded in my flesh and blood, and it is completely based on truth.

That head, which was used to thinking and coming up with ideas, that head, which had made its home in the heights of art and was aware of and used to the highest needs of the soul,That head is now separated from my glory. The foggy impressions of these imaginations are left there, which I have not yet been able to transfer to the paper. These thoughts must be a cause of mental torment, but it is a fact that in my heart there is still blood and flesh that can love, suffer, and desire, and after all, this is life.

If someone has a grudge in his heart about me, I have quarrelled with someone, or I have left a bad impression on someone's heart, then meet him and beg him to forgive me on my behalf. I don't have a thousand miles in my heart.

At this time, I wish to hug one of my friends. It gives satisfaction to the heart.

I thought the news of my death would kill you, but you don't have to worry anymore.I am alive and I will live until the time when we are side by side again.

Turning to the past, I see that a lot of wasted time has been wasted. The majority of my days are consumed by dreams, wrongdoings, and idle pursuits.I have worked against my conscience many times. Believe me, my heart is crying.

Life is a blessing. Life is a joy. Every moment that has been wasted should have been a happy life.

Now that I am changing my life, I feel that my soul is entering a new heart.

But is it true that my hands will keep longing for the pen? I think that after four years I will be lucky to hold a pen.

Oh I wish! I should only be allowed to write. How many thoughts, how many ideas that I created will be extinguished? These sparks of my mind will either be extinguished or dissolve into a fiery poison in my veins!

Saadat Hasan Manto (Translation)