Do you ever feel lost? As if, the one street light that was supposed to somehow show you your way in a dark alley also went off?
Perhaps, you are wondering why I always write you letters full of questions, whose answers will never come. Or, perhaps you don’t, you know me too well. Annie, does that bore you? Knowing someone so well that you can differentiate and interpret their silences? Isn’t that boring? There’s nothing new to expect or any anticipation.
I know I keep losing you, somewhere in the everyday smoke of existence and stench of life. I lose you to the harangued auto-rickshaw man, the interactive computer screens and the homecoming birds. But, it is better this way, it makes it so much more worth it when I rediscover you, in some corner of my mind, shining as I had left you, as somehow the dust of age never seems to settle on your shoulders.
These days everyone seems to have a broken feeling. Or, perhaps Annie, everything is broken, but no one breaks them, they just break anyway. It is like this wind chime, we had once seen, made of sea shells. As, the wind made it dance, it rang out beautifully yet there was a melancholy note, as if, it was sad at being so far away from its nurturer. Annie, remember, what you had said to me? You had said I was a flotsam and could never find an anchor, yet the world seems to be floating around and I seem to be static. The world moves too fast these days, doesn’t it?
My letters to you always find me whining or dreaming or just being me. Through these letters, I find myself as if, seeing me through a glass of scotch. Perhaps, that is why I don’t write to you often. It is not easy to frequently see ourselves in the naked light.
If you have read till here, you will know why I asked you the first question. I feel blind, floundering, feeling my way about and banging off walls. Yet, there you are a blinding flash of light, peace between the frothing breakers, life in a wasteland – I hope this letter finds you well
With all my love,