THE LETTERS THAT SHAPED MY LIFE

As someone born in the 90s, something I truly miss doing in this bustling world is writing a letter to a loved one. The ease of sending a WhatsApp message, an Instagram DM, or an email has brought down the joy of writing on a piece of paper, sealing it carefully inside an envelope, and securing it with glue or tape. We took pleasure in walking to the post office, affixing a stamp before posting it and waiting anxiously until we knew the mail had reached the recipient. Modern times have certainly reduced the waiting time and the efforts involved, but the joy of the process is lost with time. The future generations might never know that feeling.

THE BEGINNING

The first letter I ever wrote was to my maternal grandfather. As a well-read man with a love for books and writing, his shelves were always brimming with personal and professional postcards and letters. We would often watch him unwrap the letters one by one, carefully stacking them in order. Whenever the table was left empty, we would seize the opportunity to copy his replies onto another piece of paper. The way his eyebrows and forehead creased as he read, the way he gave his full concentration to the letters, the way his lips curled into a smile, and the way his hands moved when writing a reply—all of it was pure elegance. And that’s how I was inspired to write him a letter. I went home after the vacations, and the first thing I did was to pester my parents to get me a postcard. I didn’t stop until I had written to him, telling him how much I missed him just a couple of days after leaving his home. Two days later, he called and spoke about how surprised he was to receive a postcard from me. He sounded like it genuinely meant much to him. During my next visit, I saw my postcard holding a special place on his table. He hadn’t merged it with others or tossed it into the bin. It was there, neatly placed between two books, with my broken Tamizh in scribbles. I didn’t know he would treasure it, but that was the moment I realised you could express love through writing letters and treasuring them.

COMEDY OF ERRORS

The next letter I remember very well was the one I sent to my friend while I was away during Diwali. She was my closest friend, but when she spoke animatedly about receiving a card from a well-wisher for Diwali, I decided I had to do it too. Who was this person who dared to send her a card instead of me? I took offence as her best friend. So, the next thing I planned was to send her a birthday card by post, since her birthday fell during the summer holidays. I made the card with all my effort, decorated it with flowers and glitter, sealed it with glue and lots of love and posted it through my uncle. She didn’t have my mama’s number, so I had to wait until school restarted to ask her how she felt about the card. I couldn’t sleep for a couple of nights, imagining all the ways she might be boasting about it to her other friends and neighbours. But when school reopened, I found out that, in all the chaos and urgency, I had forgotten to put on a stamp on the envelope and my mama hadn’t noticed either. Her parents ended up paying the fine. I was so embarrassed, but she said she loved the card and didn’t mind paying for it. Years later, we still talk about it to share a good laugh.

SO MUCH FOR LOVE

School activities were always fun when we were asked to make origami or write a fictional story. But when it came to group activities, I always became anxious. One of the many reasons was that I would often end up without a partner or with someone who was also left out. That semester’s activity was to write a letter to a friend and exchange it with them. But, strictly within the same gender. God forbid, you had a friend of the opposite gender. Even though no one would approach me to discuss the activity, I always hoped I would get at least one letter. But sadly, I didn’t. A few people received the most letters, clearly making them the crowd favourites, while a few unlucky ones like me did not get any at all. I was definitely disappointed, but I learned that just because you are polite doesn’t mean you’ll end up being someone’s first choice. When I whispered about it at home, everyone turned silent. The same night, I found not one but four letters on my table, all addressed to me with love. It was then that I learned there will always be someone who will think you are special, even when the world shuns you. Remember to hold them close forever in your heart, even if you can’t physically.

THE D-DAY LETTER 

I know this isn’t a big deal. Everyone gets their college admission and goes on to pursue higher studies. But for me, it was different. I never wanted to pursue medicine in the first place. My interests back then lay in physics, space science, and English. I wanted to take up one of those subjects, but clearly, as an Indian child, I didn’t have much of a choice other than to agree to my parents' plan. Life changed that day, all of a sudden. And I was pulled into the world of blood, needles, sutures, and scars. I don’t know how life would have turned out if I hadn’t received that admission letter in the first place. But I am thankful I was shown some mercy and I could eventually fall in love with medicine over time. Now, I can’t imagine not being there. I am not saying we should all agree with our parents. But in my case, it just worked out. Maybe it would have been even better if I had followed my own path. But I am not going into the ifs and buts now. Let’s keep it simple and thank God for making it work for me.

LETTERS TO THE EDITORS

This is how life is now—writing email after email to the editors of various magazines, journals, and publishing houses. The acceptance rate is far too less as compared to the number of rejections and the ghosted ones. I often have to squeeze in time in between work and family responsibilities to craft a story, then spend several weeks to months editing it before sending it out and waiting for a reply. More often than not, the responses are negative. At first, I used to feel disheartened by it, but now I have grown used to it. I have even started asking for feedback when possible. I try to correct, adapt, revise and repeat, hoping that someday, it will all work out. I keep learning from every reply I receive and even from those I don't. So, I am not going to stop writing these letters just because they don't end up the way I want in the hope that someday I might even write here about how that one e-mail changed my world. 

This is a part of ‘Scribbled and Sealed’ Bloghop hosted by Manali Desai and Sukaina Majeed for Every Conversation Matters.

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