"Three days of meaningful living is worth many lifetimes of meaningless existence..." This message put forward by Amitabh Bachchan in his flash appearance towards the end of Kannada film "Amrithdhare" is the dictum that underscores this heart-tugging marital drama.

Outwardly, the language of the film is regional. But it communicates ideas on love, loyalty, marriage and companionship with such forceful and persuasive passion that beyond a point, the spoken language becomes the least consequential component in writer-director Nagathihalli Chandrshekhar's new and by far most accomplished work.

The story of a newly married couple Puru (Dhyaan) and Amritha (Ramya) who prefer to behave as though their togetherness is a never-ending courtship is punctuated by bouts of heartwarming humour and an absolutely crackling (and hissing) chemistry between the couple who love each other to death, Amritha's death, as it happens to be.

The narrative is well informed and the language of love has never seemed more desirable. While the director has written his scenes with utmost regard for the graph pitch and momentum of the central bonding, he has also made sure that the film's romantic overture flows with easy grace.

It doesn't take us long to become part of Puru and Amritha's beautifully frictional, uniquely utopian and patently precious marriage. If much of the shared moments between the couple comes alive, it's due in no small measure to the absolutely dead-on chemistry between the lead pair.

Are Dhyaan and Ramya in love in real life? Or are they just playing two characters who are in love? The two actors go beyond the precincts of role-playing to forge a deep and desperately indelible alliance of the kind seldom seen between lead players in any language.

By the time Amritha's terminal illness surfaces with a diabolic defiance, the film's end game begins to seem like the final overture of a skilfully written opera.

The tragedy of losing your beloved 'other' is masterfully portrayed by young Dhyaan. His heartbreaking attempts to keep the impending tragedy away from his fast-fading wife is so real, your heart simply melts at his intolerable pain and suffering.

Here's a young actor who brings a kind of vulnerable grace to screen heroism, hardly obtainable in the loud and aggressive leading men of regional cinema. His coping with the oncoming death of his wife reminds one of Ryan O'Neal in Arthur Miller's "Love Story"...except that Dhyaan is a far more sensitive and skilled actor.

Ramya is right up there with Dhyaan, giving his yin a yummy yang. The ball-and-socket impact of the couple is ably supported by the writer-director's vision of a world where love is the true healer.

Chandrashekhar takes the couple's paradisical togetherness to the threshold of an unspoken tragedy and then decides to end on a note of sublime hope.

We don't see Amritha dying. She just fades out of sight before the beautifully photographed Taj Mahal, to remind us that Shahjahan and Mumtaz Mahal were not the only two people who loved, each with intense and ever-renewable passion.

The truth about the quality of love and life in "Amrithdhare" is undeniable. No recent Indian film has attempted to build such a moon-drenched montage of marital harmony.

Bachchan appears in the final lap of the lyrical narration and rationalises the rhythms of romance by giving the narration a final life-giving nudge.

This film must be made into Hindi and with the same two actors in the lead. No one else can but Dhyaan and Ramya can be Puru and Amritha. And yes, let's have Mano Murthy's title track all over again.