Cowper St, July 1, 2009
My dearest,
There are times when amidst joyous moments, I am brought back to a slither of memories when you and I trotted the same land. Because sometimes even invaluable my experiences had been in this foreign soil, I still severely wish how I could see you present among my acquaintances, savouring the spices of my adventurous journey.
We had a generous dinner last night, the three great cook of the house as we call ourselves, each made food fit to serve an army. Lasagna, polenta and grilled vegetable stacks, spring rolls, spinach and cheese-filled cobb bread, salads, and Indian-fused pasta brought by our gentle neighbour spread the table. The food, suffice to say, filled us before we even get to greet our dessert enthusiastically.
And oh the companies! It was such joy to listen and witness the conversations. The avid observer you know I am, I listened with indifference as the dinner table became a battle of eastern and western cultures. They had discussed with rare spirits about the fear our fathers and mothers harbour of our wobbling young impulses. While some hold dear their parent's trust, others flee to pursue their heart's desire.
It made me question myself, whether I boarded the plane to say goodbye to everything which is not to my heart's desire or I had left with ample trust to honour my parents pride in me for taking such uncertain road.
What of your thoughts, my friend, what road have you taken in your life and why so? Ever so little I understand of your life, your composed and warm manner always assure me of the world's kindness and honesty. It is you who reminds me, every time I had to contain my anger towards the world, there is always a reason to go home.
As fiery as the conversations had been, laughter and merriment followed the rest of our night. It suited me very well because such conviviality let me alone with my own reflection. It is often at such times my thoughts are tenderly drawn towards the memory of you. As if in the middle of our youngest Indian ambassador demonstrating his eloquent dance and the audience laughing around him with delight, I could see you there too nodding appreciatively with the little crooked smile of yours I've come to memorize in my sleep.
Can you tell my why my friend, even with the generosity of technology around us, these minutes and miles between us do not seem to budge faster and more rapidly for our impending reunion?
Awaiting your reply,
Very sincerely yours,
Ati A. Aziz.
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