I created a new mail id today. Nothing special or out of the ordinary and I realize it doesn’t really make as impressive an opening line as “Call me Ishmael” but I never claimed to be Herman Melville anyway. However, such exercises can sometimes be an amazing experience albeit completely unexpectedly. When I clicked on an innocuous looking option which allowed me to link my previous id with my current one, hardly did I know that this would make me embark on a journey that was cathartic as well as blindingly painful at the same time.
What that simple looking innocent option did was draw all the mails from my old inbox, from the oldest to the latest, to the new inbox. This was at a very slow place I might add, allowing me, jobless as I am, to read some of those mails from the dinosaur age.
You might by now be wondering that I must have run of things to say and out of sheer desperation am writing about something as mundane as creating a new mail id, you are not completely wrong I have to admit, but fortunately there is another aspect to it which hopefully saves my face a bit. The idea behind this letter is to ask how exactly do we deal with these shadows called memories? As, has been oft repeated and famously stated, boxing with your shadow while might be a good way to improve your boxing skills, is not very fruitful if you are looking for a result in the match. The point of this letter is to pose a question to us as to what do we do with these pieces of our lives, which are a part of our being…part of who we are and where exactly do they fit in into our future? How exactly are you supposed to react when after almost three years you suddenly see an old picture that was mailed to you by a friend and at that time had seemed to be the greatest gift to you, but now it’s too heavy for you to bear or when you read a mail that a love-struck you of yore had written confident in the knowledge that finally you have found what you have been looking for or reading a mail from her telling how you mean the world to her and realizing that they have all been lies.
Once again unfortunately I find myself writing a letter to you full of unanswered and perplexing questions. I am not sure why, as I am not about a lot of things in my life, so guess that is not a surprise to you.
There are times I feel we come at a place in our lives where we believe that we have left certain things behind us, yet, there they are separated by a thin veil waiting to disrupt our new routines. This uncertainty is disconcerting…it’s like discovering a rotten skeleton while looking for treasure. Yet, that is nostalgia isn’t it?
I write this letter with the hope that memories haven’t darkened your brow and your heart is not heavy with the past.
With all my love,