I was walking to and fro in the hall, waiting for the heavy lunch to digest. It was a great lunch with family and friends when suddenly the gate rattled, ’saw a postman putting something in the letterbox and go. Ah, another bill to pay I thought and went to fetch it. To my surprise, it was a letter addressed to me. Really? I got a letter? That was strange, I didn’t have many friends and the ones I know are all in Hyderabad with cellphones, who would’ve posted a letter then? I opened it hastily to see it was sent by my friend who was giggling right beside me. That was a surprise. It was only a week earlier, when I shared my love for letters with them. Why did I like hand written letters so much? What was so romantic about them anyway? Is it the clichéd idea of a lone person sitting on a desk, writing on a parchment with a quill, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes in deep thought, that never failed to raise goosebumps? Could be (yea, I know I belong to a different era). Last week, I walked into a local bookstore and stopped by the stationery aisle to check for letter-pads (out of curiosity), and found a few handmade paper letter-pads & envelopes which looked too sterile and sanitised to use. None had the charm, warmth, playfulness of the papers I once knew. These, simply didn’t invite a person to write
Archives for June 2014
Santosh, a friend of mine, sent me an email a couple of days ago. I altered it a little (to fit the blog) but ensured the message was not lost in translation. The email:
The demise of one of my colleagues, whom I just saw yesterday evoked a fear as only death can and pushed me to think of what really matters to me in life? I went to the office in the morning, unaware of Maggie passing away, but when I saw tulips on her keyboard, I was taken aback. I wasn’t sure whether I was sad that she passed away or that it reminded me of my own mortality.
I’ve been a hoarder all my life. Born out of insecurity, I wanted to stock all the stuff I wanted to. This, “What if I don’t have money tomorrow? Let me buy all I need to survive in this apocalyptic world” insecurity has been the driver to my consumption. New book? Buy it (even though I have 20 others to read), new CD? Buy it (before it goes out of stock), New clothes? Buy them. I piled, piled & piled stuff away. Then, came the problem of organizing and maintaining. CDs needed stands & pouches, clothes needed cupboards and so did all the other stuff I was buying. Then CDs gave way to DVDs which gave way to Blurays; Books to Kindle ebooks; Old clothes to new. Now, when I enter my room I find a CD I did not listen to, a book did not read, a shirt/trouser I did not use – all unmet commitments, not to mention clutter. But, fuelled by consumer culture (more is good) and lured by sexy advertisements I continued buying more. ’Till I took over more responsibilities.