Wednesday, May 9, 2012

LETTERS FROM A FATHER TO DAUGHTER............


“Tanya, there’s a letter for you…………..”
Letter? For me?who on earth would be writting a letter, that to me ?jeru? deepika?  Tia? Who could be it be? No.they are all probably too busy to write to me. I took the letter in my hand . A smile spread across my face…I knew.the neatly placed stamp still had its freshness, from his rare collections..  and the address, printed out and pasted. No one could have done that other than just one person-Papa.he  was a perfectionist. I carefully tore open the letter ,like a child afraid to spill the unknown treasure inside…………….
I took out the neatly folded paper.( His handwriting had made it almost impossible for me to make  out heads and tails out of it.i never mentioned it to him, but I guess he eventually figured that one out, when I started  replying  on topics rarely related to his. He switched to printing his letter. :D )my heart filled with joy as I read through his piece. I’d call it a piece, each letter a message, a piece of encouragement, hope for better, promise of a brighter future, and support above all………..
all through my 11th and 12th,  whenever I’ve felt like just throwing away those piles of entrance books and running away like a maniac(seen that scene in MANICHITRATAZHU, where shobana runs during the exam, loved that part!! ), his letter would arrive unexpectedly  and give me a new rainbow of hope. I’ve always loved letters, especially his letters.the feeling of getting a letter in your own address, the rare smell of the paper , glue & stamp, the unique beauty of each handwriting,his rare collection of stamps and the small reminder after each letter.-“ps: tanu, don’t throw away the stamp :).”, and a caricature of us,……. writing and reading a letter had a beauty in itself, that has been killed by e-mails, sms and  phone calls of this gen..   
i placed the letter carefully,preserved, with the others which  I’ve received  over these two years…this would probably be the last one. I was going back home…..it had been two years but papa was the same. His letters were a proof of that. THANK YOU, PAPA………………….

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