dear doctor …


I can only respond with a physical reaction of having my jaw locked in a position that leaves my mouth wide agape and corners of my eyes dangerously tearing reading the words you have so carefully crafted while I imagine the images you have sketched. Stipping! What is it that you can’t do?

I’ll have to rebutt your statements on the ‘state of richness’; if anything you are the riches for His Almighty have endowned you with the riches and most beautiful hands of all. A healing hand as a surgeon, an eye for the deprived and an artist for all things inanimate and animate.

I would be most honoured to see those sketches you and your brother have created over innocent exchanges of mail … which brings us to our earlier point on the beauty of snail mail; an oddity and a pain in the modern digital day where all that’s physical are a stark reality of life – bills and notices.

Just today I would not like to talk about work.
A strength I am building on and a tough one too given the conundrum and confusion I am currently in. One that is enough to drive to insanity of getting a Leica (but let me explain this later) as well as almost caving in to Holi in a few weeks time. All this was a result of M (whom you would have met fleetingly at the hotel alleyways and make shift lecture halls) incessant travels. It appears that he has extended his sabbatical yet for another year – something unheard off in our part of the world!

Lucky bastard {forgive my language}

Anyways, before I pen off and hit the sack as I brave myself for another lengthy and disruptive day tomorrow, going through some projections laboriously, please do indulge me with a thought or two as to the ‘gift’ I should return; not as an insult to you but a token of appreciation of the great work of art you have gifted. I am torn between the choices although I know that I would have to eventually make the decision.

Now, as eyelids weigh a tonne I will bid you farewell; albeit briefly.

Till then, love … P


Mental note to self:
It’s time to revisit old friends; not just old correspondences.
It’s time to revisit the faintly scented 120 gsm canvas grained paper.
It’s time to write with a real fountain pen.
It’s time to embrace our past … and oh what better time than on his birthday! 

Happy Birthday {dr.} V.M.
I’ve finished it off with a wax seal at the back … for good ol’ times sake

I miss India … I miss my 3rd ‘home’!


One thought on “dear doctor …

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