Dear Maa/Paa,
Today, I wouldn’t begin this letter elucidating my own state in just one line and swiftly moving to the new demand which I am to make. I am enough childish to think that you haven’t noticed my prompt move but yes, yes you do. You are familiar to my each and every move. Even if I won’t say what I need in the letter, the next day I find a postman knocking at the door with a letter from you. Either in the letter, you have asked me about what I am looking for or you have already purchased one and the letter is only to unlock my happiness.
But today, I ardently felt the need to talk to you. It’s not only that I am feeling lonely here among a bunch of friends in the hostel, but I also want to say something to you, to confess something which I never did. To express something which I was reluctant to, on video and phone calls. It may be that I couldn’t gather that much courage or I found those ways inefficient to express what I felt.
Firstly, I like my home very much. I may many times in my innocent rage, have taunted it but today- I AM MISSING IT VERY MUCH. I seek my house beneath the decoration of the hostel building. The rangolis here gives me a nostalgic touch of how my sister used to craft and decorate it and I used to irritate her in this whole process. The ‘diyas’ here reminds me of your great endeavour to soak the round piece of clothes in oil collected from different flowers so that it can last longer and it did, last time – I remember when I went to pick my unburnt crackers in the morning, I saw some of those ‘diyas’ still glowing with almost the same intensity. Hats of to your creativity. Even my aroma lights felt belittled in front of that traditional diyas. Yes, Yes….I am forgetting something. Oh, Ya! Today I am feeling hungry. I ate adequately in the afternoon and also have snacks in the evening but that too couldn’t make me feel satiated. It didn’t take much time to realise that I was looking for the dishes prepared by you and the sweets brought by father from the famous and his trusted ‘Pramod laddu Bhandar’. I remember the taste but couldn’t feel its odour around.
Papa, I couldn’t ever tell how excited I use to feel when you use to take me for the shopping of Deepawali. Holding the bag while sitting with you at the back is the thing which I will seldom forget. I used to feel safe and sound in your driving sitting in one corner of the seat and peeping sideways. In childhood, when you use to give me money and keep a look where I spent, I miss those days because today when you restore my credit before it goes off, I feel a little insecure. Insecure about why you don’t look now? I got my answer one day when you said that ‘I know I have given you enough training to spend money wisely’. Now, I realise the value of your advice and money too. Also, how can one forget those days when you used to ask our choice of crackers, write it down on a piece of paper and give it to you and you always used to bring more than that. Your mere presence at the time of bursting crackers used to give me enough strength so that even large bombs seems like a fuljhari to me. Today, I fear all those crackers, I don’t know why. I don’t know why I didn’t like this growing up. Isn’t it making me weaker than before?
If there is any way to thanks to both of you, please tell me. yes, I know what all you care about me is my happiness, my success. I am trying my best and with your blessings, I will conquer any milestone.
Sorry, I couldn’t come home this time. It is not as if I didn’t want to come but certainly, some circumstances held me here. I know I won’t study at all in this festive season. I did a couple of road trips but that too could engage me for the time being only. rest of the time I kept missing, feeling nostalgic and lost in my own. The hostel committees did their best to celebrate Diwali in this “Home away from home” and I enjoyed too. I Kept myself happy and cheerful so that I can make you too happy.
(Sorry, the letter came in paras as per my thoughts)
Loads of love and Happy Diwali!
Your loving son
Shashank
Pragmatic's Personas 