Holding the airmail letter, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Who writes letters these days?” It was from Roger, a former neighbor from my time as a diplomat in Canada. Roger and his sister had a fascinating connection to India. Their parents, having served in the Royal Indian Air Force in British India, based in Kolkata, chose to settle in Canada after their service, rather than returning to the UK. The two-page postcard was a treasure trove of memories. As I deciphered Roger’s wonky handwriting, his voice echoed in my mind. The lines of his alphabet were as quirky as his speech, bringing back vivid memories and stories of people from different parts of the world. It felt warm, comforting, like a hug from the past.
In my youth, I wrote letters to pen pals in distant lands. The possibility of receiving a reply, though slim, fueled a burning desire to connect with unknown souls, hoping for a reciprocal connection. It started with postcards, then evolved to inland letters, and finally, to envelopes. The moment a letter was posted, the wait for a response began. The postman became a pivotal figure in my world of anticipation, uncertainty, and imagination. The anticipation doubled if the letter was addressed to a potential friend of the opposite gender. Through this process, I forged a few friendships, though inevitably, I lost track of them as I moved on to higher education and different locations.
A letter is a work of art, a masterpiece crafted from paper, pen, ink, and handwriting, where words paint vivid emotions, conveying sentiment and heart. The writer must be mindful of aesthetics, balancing substance with visual appeal. As one writes, the recipient’s presence weighs on the mind, and the impact of the words on their heart becomes a priority. This process can be painstakingly meticulous, fueled by a fear of losing a friend due to misconstrued words, or unwittingly hurting their feelings. There was no opportunity for explanations in person. Handwriting and ink color play a crucial role in forming first impressions. My father used to say, “Good handwriting represents a propensity for knowledge and creativity.” During my high school and college years, he wrote hundreds of letters, each a thematic masterpiece on life, growth, hope, aspirations, success, and failures. As a child, I believed his words and strived to cultivate a neat, organized handwriting style. This also fostered my love for fountain pens. The dance between the hand muscles and the fountain pen nib is a delicate balance of control and being controlled, guided by the writer’s thoughts. Ink adds color to the words on the page. Back then, the options were limited to blue, black, green, blue-black, and red.
Today, writing letters is a rare occurrence, yet the habit of using a fountain pen for notes and signatures remains. One can’t help but wonder how instant real-time communication has minimized the need for coordinated hand and head movements. We live in a world of haste and rush. Fingers move faster than thoughts. Digital devices with digital pens and styluses abound, each boasting different looks and levels of comfort. I’ve tried a few, but none have managed to replicate the feeling of using a fine writing instrument. I couldn’t help but wonder if Roger’s digital communication could ever replicate the intimacy of his handwritten letter. arun.sahu68@gmail.com Copy link Email Facebook Twitter Telegram LinkedIn WhatsApp Reddit
