This one is for you.

Dear Ma, Pa and Chintu,

I know that you read my blog (though sometimes pa asks me for the URL again and again and again and again for reasons only he knows).  I never thought that I would ever write a letter to those who make my life, on my blog. But then, my blog is now a beautiful part of my life and it is only fair that you are present here as often as possible. And it is only fair that I show you all off to the big beautiful world and hug you always and forever even if virtually at intervals. I miss you all so terribly. I just hope I can see the monitor clear enough to type as I go on.

How can you all be so wonderful? It beats me. It beats me when ma wakes up at 6:00 inspite of a nagging cold and sore throat courtesy the waiting she had to do at the airport in cold weather all because my flight was delayed ( and we are talking hours here). I cannot stop looking at the trademark ritual of her filter-coffee making session. I can never do that. I know you think I never give up. But when it comes to doing somethings the way you all do, I just don’t want to even try doing it like you. I just want to gawk at you and be all awed.

Can I ever describe in words how I felt when I saw you papa,  in your favourite green military sweater that has those brown felt patches in the elbow regions, standing at the airport with that cutest smile plastered on the face? Or can I share the happiness I felt when you, ma, were hiding and did a peekaboo with me even there, just like how you did when I was in KG or when you wanted me to swallow those stealthily added 4 extra spoons of curd rice? Or how my heart leapt in joy to see you Chintu, all tall and handsome and all the 3 years of engineering and thousands of hours of gaming, you, whom I think of as my friend, mischief-mate and son?

I LOVE you. I can’t say that enough. Whether am at work or at home, I have brought with me a good number of scenes and events that keep replaying in my head and then that one image gets stuck for hours together and I go back and relive every detail of it. Like,

– When you both, ma and pa, fought over whose sweater or shawl I must cover myself with when we were driving back to Mysore from B’lore. I remember looking at the green sweater and the brown shawl torn between whom I’d have to disappoint. Finally, you both saw me in the sweater and wearing the shawl. It being cold helped.

– You, Chintu, singing the most hilarious lyrics all through my stay just because the driver played those numbers to keep himself awake during late night driving. I must tell you though – you seem to have a great knack for picking up such numbers. What? Ouch. That’s a compliment. Silly man!

– Searching for that particular shop that sells dry fruits and both of you, ma and pa fighting over whether I must take 1 kg of raisins or 1.5 kg.  Oh I ate like a quarter kg off already. I thought of you when I popped every single of those raisins.

– How you, ma, kept the refrigerator so well stocked with as much variety as possible just so that I could eat a different dish every single meal of the day. God alone knows how you manage to cook like that? You better have passed me just a couple of those genes. Coz’ according to K, it doesn’t still seem like you have (it seems). This guy!

– Papa, how can you keep running around everywhere like the cutest rabbit? Don’t your legs get tired? How much will you do for your kids? When are you going to listen and get the damaged frame of your reading glass fixed? When we accompany you to the ophthalmologist,  you are at your creative best to excuse yourself from a test. I am so giving up on your childlike antics. Oh wait. I am NOT giving up.

– And Chintu, you are the bestest buddy to play gameboy with. How could we not discover Chip and Dale for so long? I love playing all those games that I have always played with you – Mario, Circus Charlie, Tank, Contra, Aladdin, Sonic – you gave me the best of summer holidays. And this time we played so much in breaks – Wheeeeeeee! What fun no? Stop flying. You wouldn’t have had all that fun if I wasn’t there either 😛

– Ma and pa, you guys had shopped the mall off to pack my trolley with all of it? And then, when you realized my trolley is not big enough, you bought a new trolley altogether ( that it is as big as me is a different thing). You forgot about the 30kg limit. How can you be so wonderful? And why are you so wonderful?

– Ma, I found it so cute that you have made a furry cover out of those soft towels for your new refrigerator handles. I know you love things squeaky clean and shining. What I also know is that you can manage the whole wide world no matter in what mess. What I don’t know is how you do it. Ma….

– Chintz, I loved it and found it so hard to fight back my tears when you said that you were secretly hoping that I miss my return flight. I hate being helpless. I hate it when you pretend all zany and crack jokes to cover up your otherwise feelings. C’mon. I came into this big world before you, remember?

– Papa, you may have been the best guy in the army. You may be the most vigilant officer. But I am sorry to say this. You still haven’t learnt how to cross a road without giving us li’l panic attacks. Why do you keep turning back to see if we are behind you? And if we are with you, holding your hand, you want to turn back to see if your car is parked right. Please pa, if you don’t change ways soon, I may have to re-look your right to independent travelling.

– Ma, you pick the best onions – the right shade of pink, the right size, the right texture, the right taste – everything. Ditto for all the vegetables you cook.

– Papa, I love the way you help ma. I love seeing you up and about with ma, helping her with little and big chores – from helping with utensils to filling the jug with water. I am training K to be like you.

– Chintu, I love how our eyes become like a line when we wake up even after a one hour nap. I love it when we look at each other, say good morning and then burst out laughing looking at each others’ eyes. Every single time.

– Papa, you make the best mosambi juice ever! I know I gaffed down like many many litres of it but I just couldn’t get enough. I can’t ever forget how you’d bring that tall glass brimming with the juice and sit with us as Chintu, ma and I drank the first few sips, look ta our expressions, wait for your share of compliments before taking to your glass. You are just so adorable.

– Chintu, I remember you making a minute-to-minute plan of what all we must do when am there so that we don’t waste a single moment. How I love you for that! And you did every single thing on your list. I am so proud to be your sister. Okay, you have it in writing now. You can use this against me. Love is truly blind.

– Papa, I don’t know how on earth you got that intuition that day. If you had not asked me about the check-in date, I’d have been late for my flight – by 24 hours. I don’t know if  should thank you. K is very happy. But Chintu was murmuring with a not-so-happy expression.

– Ma, I love your revolutionary talks. You know what am referring to. You are the woman I aspire to be, physically, emotionally and intellectually.

I can just go on and on. I will let some special memories just stay within me. I can hardly wait for it to be time for the next visit. And I will pull K along with me. It is so unfair that he misses out on such beautiful precious moments.

Today, there is a renewed vigour and freshness within me. To be home, in my hometown, with family, surrounded by nothing other than love and loads of pampering – a magical feeling that I pray God creates again and again and again and again.

Yours,

….

Footnote:

Featured picture sourced from http://munchkinwrangler.wordpress.com/2010/05/27/on-the-hand-written-letter/