:)
So, today's your turn, finally. I was actually composing one to a Visiting Card, which I must remind myself to complete soon. Were you physically around, you would have screamed "Procrastination!" at me, for the nth time. Surprising for a man who flunked the matriculation thrice to know so many English words. A letter to you -- none like the earlier ones which you must have read with a sense of pride and joy in the comfort of your office. This letter comes your way, virtually, for you are no more real.You would have read each of my letters, you would have made sure I read out each of my unposted letters to you. You would have.
A letter to you. What would it not contain? It should have my life packed tight in gratitude to you. But all of that you know and keep smiling smugly about. The yellow Parker writes and scribbles still, shades and strokes of immense assortment, and I have taken your grey Adidas t-shirt to comfort me on nights of endless ignorant hours of the mind, and yet, when I pass EC block each afternoon, six days a week, on my way back from college, you are not there to listen to me. Listen to pointless victories and remarkable ones. And have me listen to you saying that I am noble because I teach, and I am ruthless because I haven't yet mothered.
Sometimes, in the way R listens to me, it feels like you. This letter is not to thank you infinitely for being my mentor, coach, father, friend. That would be so finite. This letter cannot contain my life or its many significant nothings which are possible because you carefully nurtured them. It thrives on your values that can never be contained. This letter has just one wish.
To be listened to.
Are you listening?
K.
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