Monday, 22 February 2016

The old golden days of letters.

I remember the time when mobile phones were a piece of luxury and not a part of the intricacies of daily lifestyle. Telephones were the common grandfather in all households, fixed at one corner, blessing anyone who needed to talk to someone far away. I also remember we used to have a Caller I.D. machine delicately attached to the telephone set so that we could retrieve the identification of callers, to back up last 10 calls and a little few more magics could be done with that small square shaped box. This was the time when I was very little but young enough to know how to communicate through words - Letters. And with letters I mean hand-written scribbled pages not mails composed on computers.

Those days, letters were like a big giant sun; blinding everyone under its effect. It was another strongest and probably the most cherishing way of communication. I loved writing them and was skilled in many ways. I would write every letter with loads of love and attachment. For a person like me, I can never write to anyone with whom I have less of an affection. So the person at the receiving end of my letters would always feel special and smile over the ways I had addressed things on the pages. Those were good times when we inevitably had to show our love and concern this way. This memory, in fact, is another unforgettable page from my life.

Now that time is over long back and we now talk through computers and mobiles. These technologies have their own benefits, no doubt but sometimes, I miss writing letters like old days. I had the habit of securing every letter I would receive in reply. I still have the fetish of preserving them only if someone can go back in time and bother to paint the affection on pages. And it is worth keeping them! Because I can always touch the words and feel the ink to get locked in time and I'd know that I was remembered with each stroke, dot, comma and full stop.

My first creation (a poem) was hand-written on a simple plain page. I tried to retrieve it but all I could manage was the below - a printed version. This version is a lot safer to increase the lifetime of a creation. When I had made this poem, my father was so pleased that since that day, he keeps it in his pocket at all times. It was hard for him to manage a more than a decade old page. So he got it printed and now my poem rests blissfully alongside his rupee notes in his wallet.

A good memory of old times.

With this post, I somehow feel like writing a hand-written letter to someone but I let the moment pass. Not every desire should be fulfilled the moment it occupies a head.



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