Many a times I wonder what reality would be like, again. Yes in this virtual world, I am lost to the chaos of the ever intruding technology. Missing all the fun of reality. I might have failed in accepting it as a necessary and limited part of my life. After all, this demon kept me in tune with people close to me. And that somebody special. Initial days with my new love were really fun and kept me going. Not anymore. I miss the feel of a posted letter. How me and my cousins down south exchanged letters. Only people born before 90’s can relate to this kind of communication. I can still feel the smell of a crisp white paper. And the blue “Inland Letter”. Sometimes my uncle and aunt, and a few times my grandma, wrote on a special letter from another part of the globe. I cannot recall what that was called. It was white in color and bore a big number of postage stamps. This letter took about 15 days to reach us. And yes the “ink” pen which was so much a symbol of style in those days, and which my dad so revered. Daddy’s writing table was full of pens from all the places he had visited. And books, real books, which we had in our library. Now the books I read are all on kindle or I Pad. And do I read at all? By the time I started writing it was about pilot pens and Reynolds 040 and 045 though. All my research papers were typed on my laptop. I do not remember when I did some real writing last time. May be during my LLM exams last. It was such a task to write big long answers. Today I may have the best gadgets and Mont Blanc pens but I miss my childhood and all the limited connectivity and resources I grew up in. The landline was the only way we could communicate. Mom did not have the luxury of calling her children when we were on a picnic or an excursion. Though many a times she was among the teachers who accompanied us. Perhaps that was the only luxury she had. Of teaching in the same school as we studied in. And how we as children dialed 100 so many times to call the police as part of a larger mischief. Today we cannot live without constant touch with our loved ones even for an hour. I check my whatsapp and messenger during work hours. And during sleep hours. Sometimes at my own peril too.When my body needs rest. How I remember we sisters slept by 9 every night and woke up early. We are so used to receiving a hundred messages by evening. And by morning. All superficial and unreal. So here I decide. I will write real letters again. And acknowledge the way I grew up writing. I will head for my notepad today. The real one. And the “ink pen” which I so cherish.
bbhavanarao 