Letter Writing…

I’ve always been a sucker for handwritten letters (snail mail as it has come to be called in recent times). Call me an old-fashioned idiot (who happens to be a ‘techie’ <- whatever that’s supposed to mean, and spend a minimum of twelve hours a day seated in front of a PC and e-mails most of her acquaintances, and updates her blog more often than her diary/journal/secret diary – et al… **fine! I’m guilty of that here!**), but I find something extraordinarily personal about a handwritten mail! That I’ve ceased to receive any since the time we got our internet connection some fifteen years ago (before which I, honestly, used to write to my aunt and paternal grandmum – childish scribbles more like it) doesn’t really matter. I remember the odd letter when a friend and I decided that it was crappy to e-mail each other, and I believe we sent each other exactly two letters before we decided it was crappy to waste time in doing that when we could just get on the phone and talk for hours together – our excuse at the time was not just the ‘wasting of time’ but also ’saving trees’. I also wrote to my lawyer friend (who just, btw, landed a spectacular job at Amarchand Mangaldas – the best law firm in the country!! So proud of her!!) a few times but even that stopped after…3 letters, I think. Anyway, letters feel so nice. So pleasurable even.

Deciphering the writing itself gives me so much joy! So when my sister, the one who recently moved to Athens, GA, for her undergraduate studies, told us that she had her own personal mailbox at her on-campus apartment like dorm my reaction was “I’ll write to you!!”. Sure, her telling us about this was snide and had an ulterior motive laced through it – that she made a point of telling us that it was a “pretty good mailbox…has the capacity to hold a palm size box” told us that she expected more than cards but admitted that she would be content with letters too. So here I sit, writing to her. It’s presently five pages long and it’s just ranting. Plain old ranting. Stuff that I’ve already spoken to her about, asked her about. Yet, I’m writing it. And I know she’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

See, that’s the pleasure part that very few understand. The written word. I’ve nothing against e-mailing people, truly, because now I do it on an hourly basis. Just that, at times it feels good to revert to the age old methods… sigh. <I seem to be getting sentimental about odd things these days!!> When I first started writing – I’m talking about my novel ideas here – I would spend hours together penning thoughts and then decide that it was absolute crap that I’d churned out (I do that now too…at my laptop…and then when I decide it’s not worth it, I simply hit Shift+Del) I would take immense pleasure in ripping the sheets to tiny bits and watch my ideas fall to the ground. Once I even burned some twenty sheets using the flame of a candle and watched it fall to my feet in ashes. That helped in the thinking process, because I used to find it easier to put out newer ideas after that..things that hadn’t crossed my mind before. Besides, like I said before, it gives everything I write a personal touch.

We grow with time and in the current drive of things, it pays to keep in sync with the modernization of lifestyle. It helps at times when nothing else does. My conclusion? I would rather type out things than to spend time writing out stuff (because I can type faster than I write), but when it comes to stuff that matter…I would rather see words of my contorted hand than typed letters.

P.S. Cadence of Her Last Breath – Nightwish a brilliant song. MUST LISTEN!! I just can’t get enough of it!