Dear Sansa, I am so sorry! Right after I typed Dear Sansa, I rested my head on the laptop and fell asleep baby. This is our hundredth letter. Not that I am tired or anything rather I feel very peaceful baby. I feel that now my daughter knows her father. Some letters were sad, some letters were happy but all of them were very beautiful letters. Because every time I wrote them, I felt so beautiful baby. And I saw you smiling while reading them. You looked so beautiful too. Oh! I did not tell you what happened when I rested my head on the laptop. In my subconscious I was still thinking about which story should I share with you today. And suddenly, I was reminded of an incident baby. Actually two of them. I was reminded of those 13 days where a woman made me blush every now and then. It happened long ago. So long ago that it feels like yesterday. You have to listen very carefully about her. You might just get to see a lot of her while you grow up. Because I have fallen in love with her house, her village, her grand-fathers grape wine yard and peach trees on the threshold of her house. Because I have fallen in love with her. And so no matter how far we are. How long we have been disconnected. Even if we never meet again. After all these years. She will always be in my stories. She will always be in yours. That is the most wonderful thing about love baby. It creates stories. Our love created a story too. I will tell you the story someday later. I will tell you what happens at the end of the story. An orthodox Indian man kisses a beautiful Romanian woman at an Indian Airport and breathes free. He forgets that he is crowded, he forgets that he is seen. He looks at her and smiles most preciously. For in the last few minutes that woman left the taste of freedom on his lips. What can possibly be more beautiful than a woman liberating a man baby. A woman showing a man, what freedom feels like. Many of our letters will talk about her baby. But suddenly I am reminded of a story that I told her while we were taking a walk. A true story. The story is about freedom too baby. The value of it. Long ago, I went to a hill-station for a small trip. All alone. November it was. Winter. Snow fall. I stayed at a cosy beautiful guesthouse. Which eventually didnt have a canteen. So I had to walk around fifty steps towards the market and eat at different small restaurants. That morning, I woke up very early. I had a mild headache. I craved for some tea baby. It was five in the morning. Still I got up, wore my sweater and walked towards the market. Everything was closed. So I kept walking. After a hundred more steps probably, I saw an old man washing crockeries at a hand-pump outside his house.Among the crockeries was a big tea-kettle. I asked him hesitatingly : Where could I find some tea ? He said, If you can wait for fifteen minutes, my wife will make it for you. We open at 5:30 or so. I was so happy to know that, I went Inside and waited for my tea. In some time an old woman, nearly 70 came with a small plastic cup of tea. I took the tea from her hands and said thank you. She was wearing a burqa but her face and hands were visible. I asked her to sit next to me, she smiled and sat. We started talking baby. We connected. She laughed. We talked for an hour and I came back. Two years passed, I remembered that trip but I would hardly remember or try to remember that conversation I had with her. Seemed that It did not matter to me at all. By coincidence, I went to the same place after two years baby. Stayed in the same guest-house. And one fine morning when me and my friend could not sleep at night. We decided to go for a cup of tea early in the morning and then! I was suddenly reminded of her. I told my friend: I know a place, where they serve tea at 5:30. We walked till there baby. Just like the last time, that old man was still outside, washing crockeries from yesterday. I asked him very confidently this time: Do I go inside and wait for my tea ? He said: Yes! Sure! We went inside baby. And few minutes later, the same old woman in a similar Burqa like the last time, came out with our tea and the moment she saw me, she smiled so elegantly and said: So long! How have you been ? I was shocked that she remembered me. I told her that I was fine and I asked her that how did she remember me ? She smiled baby and she said: While we talked, you for once held my hands with a lot of warmth. I remembered that... . . . . . ( Letters to My Daughter Sansa- Pushkar )
Posted on: Sun, 03 Aug 2014 21:40:55 +0000
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