Letter to Thesis

Respected Thesis,

Hello. Hope you are doing well. Err, I mean alive still. I cannot but maintain a formal voice, well at least to begin with, with you. You of academic fame, you of social stature, you of intelligence quotient, you of anything but inherent interest.

Honestly, I had never anticipated a day where I would be writing one, or writing this letter. Please do not be shocked by this disavowal. I do remember each distinctly agonizing step I had to cover to have us registered. I do not know why what was driving me then. If I must contemplate, it must have been a deep-rooted sense of 'nothingness', more than anything else. Really, I wasn't doing much then, and was wheeled into it by friends who were cogs in the wheels. Yes, I think you happened out of a lack of purpose. So, to attach something that would make you stay I tried and thought out a 'purposeless-love'. One cog, G, had once coined this ethereal phrase "simple, purposeless love". I found out the link between two things I loved most -- art and Plath, and cooked up a dish to get you started.

Ever since, I have dilly-dallied the process enough times for you to have assumed by now that I have no interest in you. It is only for the chef's conviction that something grand would evolve, that the sous-chef, me, I am still hanging on. That is some chef, right? Yes thesis, you and me, we are both super-privileged to have her association and guidance with us, but I am often scared that I will not be able to do justice to her expectations. She should ideally just bash or spank me once, however subtly, to stir up things you know.

It is December that has whipped you up -- the month which celebrates grand ends. Remarkable year this, just whizzed by. Of multiple emotions, passions and occasions. I remember many moments, each standing on their own, just because they are dear, and not because they have made me feel accomplished. Droplets of realizations and hues of dissolves. And you must believe me, that at each of those moment, the thought of you has lurked hauntingly -- in G's relentless concerns, and the parents' queries and my own conclusions. I have no idea how to deal with you.

I have written to you well inside this year as a means to buy a slot for another three months to wrap up a chapter. You have stuck to me like nobody's business and I am grateful because that entails much honour and commands unnecessary attention. In spite of the letter beginning with a disavowal, I return to a prayer for you to hold on, just for some more time, and I am sure I will wriggle out a way to seal you.

I owe this promise to your premise,

K.