Letter to a friend.

Dear Pari,

Apologies for being late. The romantic that I tend to be – with which I am trying in vain to disguise the facts of my own forgetfulness and lack of respect for time and beings – have always been ironically a prisoner of time himself, waiting in hopelessness and at the same time with eternal hope the coming of the hour where the mind shall wander high and above into those ethereal skies of fluid writing. As much as it is impractical and seems to carry tinges of fatalism, the thought of arranging or let us say, getting mystically arranged for such a “date” with my keyboard has always borne an invaluable premise for the things to follow – which impart me a certain independence and bliss experientially when I endeavour to cast these wordly pearls of little value from the immanent ocean of silence.

Like a fisherman standing on the edge of water, I look at the impermanence of the words themselves that will be unknowingly or knowingly get caught in the net of stream of consciousness. But what is to be remembered is always, obviously, the place where they all have gestated – that space which is inside me, which is inside you; that which is inside everyone and inside which is everyone. Within the space-time, they gestate like my very own children, waiting sometimes desperately and sometimes with ever so slightly terrifying dormancy, to cut the cord of ghostly semi-existence so as to come out of their period of rest or unrest and see themselves manifest in forms that shall play with the world, get all dirty with its muddy ambiguities and sharp with its polished precision and meet in the end like we all do, their own deathly rights in the old attic unless before their last moments, they trigger something of your own – like the autumn leaves carrying the message of our own transitoriness.

Now that I have laid to rest all that aspired to rest, we can get to the rest of the business. Let me begin with something that you can relate to in current context – Writing has always been close to me but closer are the events and people that inspire me to write. You, Parijat, have been an inspirational presence in my life. And when I say that, that does not just have to do  with occasions when you have devoted your time, which by the way is not an easy thing to spend in life – finite and meagre as it already is, to listen to my puny complaints of life and nihilistic conclusions and then with your ever fresh cheerfulness would silently inspire me at level somewhere deep within where even someone’s words would not reach – sympathetic or empathetic, but also when I observed you with others and more importantly you with yourself. There is no one in this world who would go unnoticed if he or she had a pleasing and much coveted combination of childlike innocence and worldly maturity. You are one of those for me. I am not a psychologist who can read minds or see through layers but I am an engineer who can on occasions extrapolate. Keeping that in mind, I’ll assume that your outside demeanour only points to an even healthier and pure inside. Where words fall, beings connect on higher realms and I had the privilege to share that realm with you where you became my Guru – one who inspires. My friend says, ” You do not have to go and take a formal permission and education to make someone your Guru.  Anyone who inspires you become your Guru that very instant and you then bow to that being out of your own volition and love.” Although one should always remember that this Gurutva also can be a transient quality and though, I am committing a sin of confessing my Shishya feeling towards you, I’ll suggest you to digest this with ease and not let it go to your head which I know you won’t but still a word of caution never killed anybody. Our greatest enemy is Arrogance: Try to be always aware of it. Hence, stay unmoved with this little piece of honest admiration.

Moving on, I have always appreciated your fluid way of meeting with people. In the world, where people are content with their little stagnant pools of friendships and kinships stinking of selfish motives and unnecessary emotions, you are an example of a river – never stagnant and always reaching to far and near both, never making pools and sharing with all. There are no prejudices, no stereotypes, no expectations that prevail in your sense of bonding with others which again is a pointer to something inside of you – vast and flowing which you are in communion with.

As an honest friend and well-wisher, it is my duty to shed light on the other side of the coin. We all are fortunately or unfortunately a part of a game tainted with grey hues. Nobody is perfect. And one who thinks is perfect is at the bottom of the ladder. All I have said is my own account of your current existence and its qualities. But just like any other weather conditions, these too are also subject to change. Be who you are currently and go from there because who you are is pretty awesome. Make that your departure point. The only way is up the ladder. But always remember, there is no end to the ladder – only a direction. Up or Down. Choice has always been ours.

Words have no limit but limitless words have no meaning. There are some things now that should be passed in silence. But before signing off, I would just like to add – Strive on to find something in you from where stem all these rich qualities – virtues and vices both –  but which in itself has always been the subtlest and ever-present base of your very existence.

Happy Birthday.