Dear you,
It’s funny how I’m writing you this letter when I don’t know your address. My friend got me into the habit of sending postcards whenever I go somewhere and I won’t really know where to send yours. But I know the contents of the postcard.
I have lived in three cities so far. When I speak, you will see the traces of these cities and the people I have met and loved there. You will find me dancing to the tunes of the lezim during Ganesh Chaturthi and melting at the sight of Puran Poli. You will see me craving the sea and its silence on long and tense days. You will see me smile every time a bougainvillea catches my eye. My cities have left their impact on me. I choose to believe I’ve left mine on them too.
I often wonder if our paths have crossed. Have you been to that café with the frosted windows and insisted for the seat on the balcony? Do you also have this urge to know the little things that make up a city? Do you go on solitary walks to find out more and talk to the rickshaw drivers about everything and nothing? Have your footprints walked alongside mine in some old lane filled with books and dreams? Maybe in different timelines where we had fewer lines on our faces. Or maybe it was the same one but while our cities matched, our eyes didn’t. We turned the right lanes but our heads didn’t.
One day, I’ll show you everywhere I’ve been. One day, we will reconstruct the maps of our lives. Of every city, country, continent. Of every mountain, river and ocean. Of every journey and every home. It will be a beautiful story. We will finally see how our maps become one.
All my love,
Me.
YOU ARE READING
Dear You
RomanceThis is a collection of love letters from a book lover, a music listener, a TV show-watcher, a traveller, a non-foodie, a movie-buff, a chai drinker, a lane-liver and a quirky individual. They are all for a special someone in their lives.
