letters

Lessons

2009-04-15T19:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Son, My Love,

It is 7. 43 am, 16th April 2009. Mama learnt a precious lesson in Love and humility early, rather early, this morning. From you? A three year old? But when did Wisdom depend on one's age?

Mama ended her usual sermon that goes like "Eat your mum-mum, be a good boy" etc. with an "I love you, Son". Indignant, you said "Mama, you always saying I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you". Mama was confused. She retorted, "Ok, I'll not say it to you anymore". But your reply left your Mama speechless. "No Mama, you say I love you and you love me too"

How could Mama forget YOUR Love, Son? Or did she think you are not capable of Love at 3? Perhaps you alone have realized that Love is respect, of caring for others. Perhaps Mama has failed her test of humility.

Mama

To S again...

2008-01-16T21:40:00.000-08:00

I am lost, S, my love, in this indiscernible maze of words, of meanings, of empty sounds mumbled, of screams, laughter and music. My melodies are lost in this city...Calcutta. Thats the name that has been and always will be....Thanx hun, for being so lucid and transparent about the pains we lesser mortals endure every day.

Love

Suji

Be My Woman...The Reply

2007-12-31T05:30:00.000-08:00

Come into my fold
I shall impart you my soul
Infuse you with my own life breath
Teach you tenderness and combat;
Philosophy and poetry; rhyme and rhythm
Make you in my own likeliness
As you call me "Mother".

Storm into my cognizance
I shall share with you my playthings
Lend you my friendship, my faith
Teach you fights and forgiveness
Chiding and childhood; turmoil and trust
As you cling on to my tresses
And call me thine beloved - “Sister”.

Wander into my life
I shall wipe your bitter tears
Offer you my soul; my gauzy dreams laid bare
Teach you my love and hatred
Pains and pleasures; vices and virtues
Evince the hues of heaven
Be your treasured, cherished “Missus”

Forgive you I shall not-
The scathing infidelities thine
As you took the sheen of my soul
And tossed it nonchalantly aside
Hurt and humiliation, anguish and ache
I was accorded; they remain mine
And I shall remain yours, “Remorse”.

To Raj

2007-12-26T09:39:00.000-08:00

Hi Raj,

Ur right...they never die.They live on, in those who love them. They haunt our hopes, creep into the indiscernible dreams of our darkest nights, breath life into our gauzy morning languor, crowd us in the loneliest of evenings and walk with us in the deserted alleys of the city. As we cry our crystal teardrops, they cheer their own victory...they never leave.

Suji

Deliberately left incomplete......

2007-06-30T04:03:00.001-07:00

My dear, dear son.....

Where do I start of? How do I end? I feel like pouring my heart out to you...talk of my life, my dreams, aspirations, my sufferings, my anguish, my pain , my very being....but how do I? You are my son, my baby , my lifeline, part of my flesh and blood...I am not around to protect you and to shelter you from the storms of life...to cherish, to keep alive your smile even in the darkest hours of life...I couldn't. Death, the vile one, came by stealth and stole my breath away. But my love, your mother will fight ...for your sake alone....I will never leave you to the ravages of the world, never alone and never ever lonely. Every day you wish I were around, believe that I am around you; weeping in your disappointments…I shall smile heartily at your rejoicing. Only that you may not be able to see me or even hear me. You shall always feel my presence. I read the Little Prince as a child….and I believe as the book advocates that the most beautiful things in life are often the ones we cannot see. “What makes the desert beautiful is the fact that it hides a well somewhere”. Do not let the world and its people hurt you son, with all its myopia, and its mundane prosaicness. People haven’t learnt yet to rise above themselves. You certainly shall. Because you are my son. I have known unbounded happiness when I have heard your laughter son, I have throbbed with the pulse of life when you have lovingly looked into my eyes and called me “Amma”, I have survived days by the strength of the love we have borne each other and I have lived a life called “you”. Believe in yourself son, because you have made such a difference to my life and you have been blessed with the ability to bring such joy into your mother’s life. If parent’s blessings do count, remember, your mother can only quote Browning…

“My whole heart rises up to bless

Your name in pride and thankfulness!”

I shall walk every step of your life with you…my soul inseparably entwined with yours…

Letters to and from her (again)

2007-05-11T11:24:00.000-07:00

Sweetheart,

I don’t love anymore. And I am not ashamed. I live and I believe and I know. He is my life and he exists somewhere in this wide, wide world. Every day he is scared that he may never find me, like I am scared sometimes. He wonders sometimes if he has seen me, where I am and he calls out my name, not knowing what it is. I wish to take his hand and tell him tales, talk of the stars, of dreams, of poetry and of music. He is wise- world wise and otherwise. He will know that love is what corrupted and pained our lives. We shall not talk of love. We shall not love. We shall simply live. I shall live a life called "him". And he a life called "suji". And those two will have all the intensity, the sensitivity to last an eternity. We shall not fester the pains that love feasts on.

With loads of life,

(Not love)

Suji

On Fri, May 11, 2007 3:15 am, she wrote:

> dear dear suji, Why did you see him? you told me yesterday that there was

> no love, every baby step that you take now is rational and reasonable.

> where from this unconsciousness crept in you? see it never dies. it stays

> somewhere even when there is no sun, even when the rains fly to desolate

> and far away lands. even when you perch hard in the verge of death there

> will be nothing .............yet something, somewhere will elude your

> senses, you benumbed senses. love never dies, what happens is that we grow

> out of loving for sometime, but never ever can we stop loving. we are fire

> and air - we make life possible with intensity , with gratitude and lastly

> with sensitivity. take care of yourself. loads of love, S

Dearest S,

I waited for him, again. He was there somewhere, I am certain. I could smell the musk he wears, his sweet sweat, the esthesis of his body, with every breath I took. I could hear his honeyed voice, speaking worldly words, murmuring, muttering- a husky laugh, an annoyed mumble, humming a tune (words indistinct). I could feel his coarse touch, the prick of his stubble against my cheek. He touched my lips, his rough fingers delicate on my lips, he teased my hair, held me round my waist, again. And when I turned, looked around. I could. All but see him. Why does he taunt me, thus?

Love,

Suji

To a friend (who thinks I should love without reason)

2007-05-09T23:33:00.000-07:00

Please Stop
This Insanity
I Know
Loneliness Knows No Reason.
And Yet
I Do Not Seek Dreams Now
No Longer Russet Sunsets Will Make Me Shed Precious Tears
No Longer Will I Long For A Touch
For The Gentle Incline Of My Head On Your Chest
And Seek To Smell The Summer Sweat
And Your Mistress' Scent.

No More Shall I Shelter Your Sleep
From The Blinding Rays Of A Morning Sun
No Longer Shall My Ears Strain To Hear
Your Footsteps
And Sigh In Peace.
No More Shall
Your Voice Be My Melody
Your Breath My Air
Your Love My Life.

Forget I Will
I Must
And Drown In This Desert Sand
Called Reason
I Will Survive The Motions Of A Soulless Life
Long After You Are Gone

Do Not Silence My Cries, Beloved
With Well Crafted Words
Coz They Soothe Not
My Aching Soul
My Longing Heart
My Lonely Life

No
Not That Love Anymore
Not Love Again
Why Must I Dream
Of That Crimson Morrow
That Will Never Come
Of A Honey Soaked Words
That I Will Never Hear?

To Daddy

2007-05-08T00:58:00.000-07:00

Dear Daddy,

You broke your promise.

And how do I even start to reconcile to this silence? You are no longer the shelter, the security I can come home to. You are no longer the one man who will hold my hand as I sleep. You are no longer the person I could hug when I felt close to tears; I can no longer barge in on you and know you will always make time to hear me, no matter what is going on around you.

No longer Dad, can I curl up beside you, and sleep a peaceful night's sleep. Papa, no one cares for your lil girl like you did. I am not called “my lifeline" any longer. No one teases my hair; fights with me over some elevated ideal or philosophy just to know my views and hear my thoughts; no one takes pride in me like you did. No longer do I have the knowing that I can go someplace and my worries will be taken care of. No one asks me to deck up like you did. No one fights with me over my perfumes, political views and pens, and gives in. No one knows to read my face and decipher my sadness, anger, outrage and mischief. How could you abandon me, thus? Why could you not fight Death off, tell Him your little one needed you badly.

I remember, when I was 14, and racked by dark fears of losing my vision, you took my hand. And said that I need not fear till you did. Because what would hurt me, would be your fear, your concern even before I could anticipate it. The logic of this emotion calmed me, and I felt scared no longer. Why are you no longer around to do that?

The only thing that you needed for all that you gave me was for me to lead a happy life. I could not accord you that much. I try so hard to tell you that I am sorry. I have in my folly done all that I believed was right, and hurt you in the process. But how can you not be around to hear this apology?

Dad, I know I have not been the ideal daughter that you thought I was - that you groomed me to be. But papa, I am what I am and whatever I am I am yours- your baby. Do not forsake me, thus. Do not punish me, thus.

Yours and yours alone,

Darling Cuckoo Bird (I remember)

To Sanidh

2007-04-24T09:59:00.000-07:00

Son,

When I look at your face, I can only smile. You come to me as a ray of sunshine in a dark, dark world, like a faint hope in an otherwise forlorn existence, like a lilting melody breeching an ocean of silence, like playfulness in my desolate life. I need to take only one look at your face to forget the pains i was endowed, one unconscious turn of your head makes my heart gay and light. When your hand closes around my finger in your sleep, I shed a happy tear, the sound of your breath lulls me to sleep. When you cry because I am hurt, I have known love; in your naughty moments I have known innocence, in your naivety I have known childhood again.

I Love You,

Mom

My Mail To Him

2007-04-19T23:56:00.000-07:00

We all live in fear. Not a fear of the immediate threats, but a fear of the unknown, a fear of the unnamed, the unseen, the abstract. That is probably the reason why we fear death, because it’s a journey into the unknown, though you the materialist, may say, our fear is because our self ends with death. i don’t agree, buts that’s besides the point. So it is in this constant sense of fear that we all live and die. We are born into it....the infant cries to convey every sensation, hunger, fatigue, pain and to fulfill every need. These are his fears. Then we learn a false sense of comfort, the mother's bosom, a caring touch, a lulling voice. And we forget. The original fear we were born into. Hence, every time we leave the comfort of a security, the security of a relationship, the relationship with a loved one, it's this fear that grips and churns the heart, clutches the soul. I cannot reassure you my friend, because you are a materialist and I know not the future. But I can tell you that I walk the path with you, as do the rest of humanity. This fear resides in every man that was born and that will be born. A few, very few, have risen above this fear and it is their names that shine in the golden pages of history. I shall pray that you be one of those but let me caution you yet, that even these "chosen few" have only risen above this fear, not vanquished it. So, my friend, weep not, if the fear consumes u, do not demean yourself for living in fear, learn that it is but the inevitable. Then maybe, if you are lucky, you may realize that 'all u have to fear is the fear itself'.
--
Love,

Sujatha.

"Love me like a lovely dream..." --Flavien Ranaivo

Letters to and from Her

2007-04-19T23:51:00.000-07:00

Dearest S, My Love,

You question in all your Arien naivety some of the most
profound truths of the world. It is this wedding that you
refer to that has been pondered over by the best of philosophers...
and yet it still remains a conjecture. Why does day wed the night
 in the glorious hour of dusk? why do warm passion filled summers
 blend in with the cold savage winter days in golden autumn?
Why do we find ourselves on the indiscernible verge of truth and falsity?
 Why do our emotions hover over the gray limits that separate love and hate?
Has any one ever found an answer to these? Is there ever a reason?
 Come honey, let us walk this craggy path...let us tell ourselves
 that there is a reason we live - but haven't found it yet....let us keep
the torch of hope blazing. Do you think we shall survive the crushing,
 staggering "realities" for a millisecond, otherwise?

Suji

On Thu, April 19, 2007 5:24 am, she wrote:

> Dear Sujatha,

> Why the brightest of the days have to be wedded to the

> darkest? Why there is a mesh of the unkwown with the people we know? You

> said one day thet the momemt you find that there is a reson , a reason to

> nurture you and bring light in your dark days, quench the thirst of your

> ever thirsty soul right at that moment. you came like a light that

> connotes life in a mad mad and mad way. there were times when you reminded

> me of sabik, her silence , her laughter for sure . just keep the faith in

> me living , with loads of love

> S.

S, My Love,

The blur of time is the greatest medicament. Nothing treats or heals pain and blessed that we are, with a capacity to feel such giant proportions of it, I see no solace. The sadness that churns your insides is the same that clutches my soul, ravages my spirits and ails my mind. I know what you feel, fellow pilgrim that I am, in this journey to nothingness. Bless your smile; my day seems better; when I laugh at the small nothings that we exchange, when I see the gray clouds gather-promising a shower, when I hear the lusty notes of a husky voice, smell the milky breath of my son, see the dirty yellow of a buxomly moon, shudder at the concupiscent touch of a teasing zephyr, I see the semblance of happiness, the illusion of Love. It is these inconsequential baubles that we must adorn, trinkets that we must wear to don the garment called Life.

Bless You.

And I am taking care.

Suji

On Thu, April 19, 2007 4:43 am, she wrote:

> Dear dear Sujatha,

> I do not why this sadness grips me , where from it comes and where it

> takes me . i do not feel like to speak any word, i want to be blind in the

> darkness of pain, deaf by the gong of time, speechless and nothing and

> nothing ........... in this world can make me happy.

> take care , love , S