Letter to Chhuti VI

Chhuti,

You will never read these letters, will you? Perhaps you will, one day, in an urban sunlight of extreme schedules, when you receive a bundle of printouts claiming your sole readership. You will have forgotten me by then and these words will seem such a waste to you. You will hardly be able to comprehend your significance in my life. You, your name, and what it means.

I was pleasantly surprised to find you rather daintily dignified when your mother left you and sat elsewhere. I was mightily impressed when you then curled up to my knees and completed the doodle I started. And yes, was I super happy to find you open a conversation with me! It felt like the mountains just stood a step beyond and I could dare to embrace them.

Tomorrow I will leave for the nearest mountains, for a very short span. And for the flowers, in their full earnest bloom. Tomorrow spells you, in your complete stature -- carefree, excited, yet, relentlessly rare. I wish you came along, you tiny little illustrious ally. Just how subtly you enumerate your magnificence. Simply put, without you none of these could ever be. For all of us who render slavery in the name of service, you are the benediction.

Chhuti, my pocket feels rich now. I have you. You in your pink overdose of cap, bag, water-bottle and shoes. You in your abundance of allowance. You to share more silences with. But I am weird. I am already sad. The moment I have you, I know the end is defined. The wait for you is eternal, and happier. In those instances, I live a lifetime. For every high five you complete with me, and for each knowing nudge you give me slightly, I will play the colours with you this time. For the first time, with someone.

Some on your face, some on the page,
K.