What has happened to letters these days? No, I am not talking about the alphabets. Its about the long letters our mothers used to write to their mothers about the well being in the new place after marriage. The letters explaining the wonders we created as toddlers. The letters that carried all the possible human emotions to one place to another.
I sometimes wonder, does the post offices really work now a days? Its been years since I received a letter through postal service. The last thing I could remember about receiving such thing was a post card. The tuition center in which I was studying complained in a post card to my mom that I was bunking classes. Not so pleasant huh?
I always had a fascination towards letters. I would read them again and again if I ever got one. Unfortunately, I didn’t receive so many letters. I remember my dad and mom still have the letters exchanged between them before their marriage and keep it as a treasure. In these days of instant messages and instant facebook updates, I don’t know whether anyone is writing letters anymore.
Our postal services are not trusted anymore because the important official and government document reach us through reputed courier services. We hear now and then about the employees dumping heaps and heaps of letters in garbage and bunking their work. It may have had my passport application and also my Pan Card. I didn’t get it till date.
Inspite of all these things, writing a letter gives a feel. It’s like pouring your heart out to someone who wont cut you in the middle saying “I can’t take your negativity anymore”. Even if they don’t want to read your letter, you never know whether they read it or burnt it. But the feeling you get after writing a letter is priceless.
I have written numerous letters. The only thing that was a problem for me was I never had any address to post. I used to write real long letters which would go about 20 to 25 pages. It will lay in my shelf with no one to read or reply. Eventually I will torch them one fine day.
I’ve had a friend who encouraged me writing letters. Even though we met daily, spend quality time talking about nothings in this world, I would still sit at night and write a letter for her. She did the same for me. To see the handwriting of a person is like talking to a person who is flesh and blood before us. No Helvetica or Verdana can do that for us. Even the worstest of the handwritings are prettiest to me when compared to the computer generated or mobile fonts.
The way the strokes been handled gives us a lot of information about the emotion of the person who wrote it when they wrote the particular word. A slanting “Dear” may say that the other person really misses us and the thick letters which gave the impression in the below page may say that the other person is not approving something. We get the smell of the places where the person took the paper and pen with them to write a letter. For small town guys it will not be very difficult to find the letters from their sweethearts were written in temple and chemistry lab sessions.
To hold those letters in hands is itself a unique experience. You know, it is for you. Only for you. May be I am exaggerating. But it is addressed to you. The person who had wrote you had taken the effort and time to sit and write down few things for you to read. To read it once and to read it once again after a few days is just a whole new experience.
Exactly 6 years back my sister wrote me a letter on January. She was in Chennai and I was in my native. We used to fight a lot. After such a fight session we did not talk for like 6 days or so. She wrote a letter to me. It was like having all the good times we had together. The silly fights, the things she did for me and I did for her, what she thought about the girl with whom I was hanging out then. And then the letter went like this saying “I don’t know what’s happening in this house Prasanna. Dad is not feeling well. They are taking them to hospital. I cannot say what’s wrong and now you are also not talking to me.” By the time I finished reading the letter, I got a call from her saying her father expired one hour before.
The next time when I read that letter, it was a weird experience for me. I was reading what was happening in his home, when a man was counting his minutes. It is not a novel. It is for real.
Are you still writing letters? What was the last letter you’ve received? You can share your views in the comments. It would make me soooo happy.