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Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Lost Art of Letter Writing

Today while going through my belongings, I found the fountain pen that I had misplaced long back. Seeing it brought about a surge of memories. Memories of the times I had spent writing letters to my loved ones. Yes, I did that, I loved writing letters. At times I would write poetry on beautiful stationery and send to my close ones on their birthdays etc. And I loved receiving hand written letters too. I still do, but people now do not have the inclination or patience to sit down and write letters. It is the era of email.

It’s not that I do not appreciate technology, I do. I do understand the importance of a fast delivered email. But to simply type a few lines and email to those close to you sounds so loveless and unemotional. Handwritten letters are so much more personalized. It shows that the person writing it took time out of his/her schedule especially for you.

Every letter has a part of the person who writes it. It has an emotion to express, providing us a glimpse into that person’s mind, thought process and feelings. The excitement of opening an envelope and reading a handwritten letter is indescribable.

One of my most cherished possession is a letter from my mom that starts with “Pyari beti Renu…”, I have no idea if she still remembers writing it but for me it is priceless. There are also a few letters from my husband where he had written beautiful poetry for me, we sometimes sit together and re-read them, recreating the magic.

I keep these letters in a box. Occasionally, I take them out and relive all those emotions. Today I sit and wonder, will my children ever have such a treasure box ? Will they have letters they can go back to in 20-30 years of time ? It’s time to buy a new ink pot and stationary. I need to sit down and create memories for my children. To tell them how much they mean to me.

My appeal to all – do take the time out to write to your loved ones. I assure you it will bring them enormous joy. All you need is a paper, a pen, an envelope and some stamps. And above all some loving words that come from the heart and gives warmth to the reader.

Monday, July 08, 2013

My Interview in Sakal Times

I'm honored and would like to thank Sonia K Kurup (Feature-Writer cum Subeditor - Sakal Times).

Wednesday, July 03, 2013

India In The Eighties

India in the eighties was different from what it is now. Life seemed so uncomplicated and fun then, now, somehow we have preconceived notions about what fun should be, and we fail to derive pleasure out of the simple things in life.

There are so many memories and so many things I miss about my childhood or teenage life.

I miss not knowing  that a dropped ice cream cone is not the worst thing in the world.

I miss the Doordarshan’s  “Mile Sur Mera Tumhara”, Malgudi Days and Wagle Ki Duniya.

I remember and miss the long train journeys with mom and dad, the chaos on railway stations, arguments with the coolies, hot samosas with kulhad chai, and insignificant conversations with strangers.

I miss the groups of children of all ages playing on the streets and around houses - hide and seek, skipping, cricket, gilli-danda, and marbles.

I miss the sounds of various kinds of music from loudspeakers heard from different spots right from five in the morning till 3am on ganesh festival, independence day, navratri, shivratri etc etc.

I miss the ball games played with cousins where if ever the ball fell in the roadside gutter, it would be taken out and get thrown against the nearest concrete wall to dry without parents going ballistic.

I miss the older aunties haggling while buying anything and everything.

I miss the peddlers with their raw mango slices spiced with hot chilli powder and roadside pani puri and wada pav.

I miss seeing families of four (sometimes five) on a scooter, and nine people getting down from an auto rickshaw (I swear I saw that too once !)

I miss attending marriages all decked up in beautiful saris and colorful bangles and secretly glancing around to check out who all have noticed ! And the dancing on the road in a baaraat without caring if you dance well or not !

Thankfully I’m shifting back to India soon !

Tuesday, July 02, 2013

Seeking Shelter


The bird came to my window seeking shelter from the rain. Reminded me of Rabindranath Tagore's words:

"Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall with a sigh..."