Letters

My first letter was when I was 9 years old. I was flying to Orlando, FL to visit Disney-world and an elderly lady named Charlene was sitting next to me. On the other seat was my Turkish friend Korhan.

Charlene was a chatting lady as most old ladies are. It was a long flight and we soon became friends. After we got off the plane she met Korhan and my family and gave me her visiting card. She wanted to keep in touch with us and thought us to be very "interesting". I went back to India and realized I still had her visiting card. I wrote to her from Cochin and she responded with a long letter. We wrote to each other for several years and she sent me pictures of her family, her new husband and asked me questions about life in India. I had moved twice in 2 years and somehow I lost touch after settling down in Vizag.

When I left Bombay ( I refuse to call it Mumbai) I had left behind a very dear friend of mine. Nimisha. Bombay was a very mixed experience for me. I was in my teen years and much too tall for my age. Very much a tomboy, my life revolved around tennis practice and arguments with my mother about what appropriate clothes meant. Nimisha was the one true friend who did not find me awkward or too tall. Being the Naval brats we were, Nimisha moved to Cochin and I to Vizag and we decided to write to each other. We wrote for over 6 years, she still in Cochin, while I had moved to Hyderabad again! We wrote long letters with little hearts, I miss you quotes, greeting cards, friendship bands and cartoons drawn in between spaces. We wrote about our first love, our first college admit, shared our first picture in a saree. Through the letters we entered adulthood and womanhood together. We bared our souls on paper.

And then one day the letters stopped. She had written in response to my confession of love. She had warned me to be careful, to be truthful. The letter arrived home while I was away at college. The envelope was so over stuffed with love and concern, that it had torn. My mother happened to read a few lines by mistake and then called me. She was angry as any conservative Amma would be. She warned me that this was not appropriate, that I was too young. I lied to her out of fear. I told her the letter was not about me but about my friend. In my letter to Nimisha, I was mean and inconsiderate. Blinded by love, I forgot the one true friend I had. I asked her to never write to me. To stop looking out for me. And then, the letters stopped. I went on with my life, in a bubble. Ignoring everyone and everything while love consumed me.

I went letter less for over 3 years. I kept wondering what could be the reason for the ache in my heart. I realized there were no letters in the mailbox. No funny greeting cards, no long letters full of every insignificant detail. No love.

A new friend saved me. He had an appreciation and insight to me and I began to write to him.From college, from my friend's wedding at Newport, from Virginia during spring break. He understood my muddled thoughts crammed into long sentences with poor spelling ( yes, you know I used spell check on this post). I know why you write to me, Seema, he used to say. I get it.

Here I am now waiting to write my next letter. Wondering who it will be.