Suhasini looked around her. A small tear ran down her rosy cheeks. The house, her home was empty. Her older son Rohit left with his family only yesterday back to his base in the U.S. He was settled there for the past twenty years.Before leaving he told her multiple times, “ Please take care of yourself. You need something, don’t hesitate to call me. I will leave everything and come to your call.” Suhasini actually laughed at this. What a dramatic person he was! She wondered where he was all these years when his parents really needed him. And now his father was no longer there.
Her younger son Sumit went exactly one week back after the ceremonies to his family in Australia. His presence was just a formality. He had always been aloof and detached from a young age, rarely mixing with his own peer group. Surprisingly he had hugged her hard before leaving. When will he open that heart of his, she wondered. What goes on behind that wall he self created! She hoped that one day she would be successful in breaking the barriers.
Her thoughts wandered to her daughter Preeti, the youngest and the apple of her father’s eyes. With an autistic child and an unstable husband, she was the one to hold the fort at her home in New Zealand. She was heartbroken on hearing the news. She cried bitterly over the phone, “ “Sorry mummy, sorry I just can’t come now. I am in the middle of a huge crisis. I wish I could just leave everything and come running to you. I am sure you understand my predicament. Sorry mummy. Please forgive me.”
With great trepidation she entered the master bedroom. Her husband of fifty years had passed away peacefully in his sleep just three weeks back. They had shared the most loving, caring and understanding marriage. He was her rock and he used to call her his pillar. She walked towards the wooden carved almirah which held all their treasures and opened it. Neatly stacked and labelled were the albums all arranged in chronological order. Her attention was on a neatly tied bundle of letters. She took it out gently, carefully, with utmost care. The memories of the past came gushing in torrents towards her. These were letters from all corners of the world of her pen pals.
Suhasini read all the letters one by one. Such wonderful memories! What happened to this delightful means of communication? Each letter contained a beating heart. They were more than just pieces of paper. An email or a whatsapp message sorely missed the essence of correspondence. Will her friends remember her now also? Do they still exist? Are their addresses the same? She will not know unless she tries contacting them first.
A determined Suhasini walked into the post office the next day. She bought twenty international inland letters. Time to re-establish contacts. Time to recreate the magic of writing letters.
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I loved to read your story because it talks about importance of writing letters. I still love to send my Dada jee hand written letters because he likes to hold and read things.
My sister always writes me letters and I love to read them. I loved your story because it talks about writing letters instead of email.