I have been working on a short series of birds painting on postcards. Why postcard? Because that is the only scrap of paper my daughter hasn’t snagged from me…yet! And I have around 20 of them in the house.
I had bought them with the hope that my daughter will write to my parents and fall in love with letter writing–unfortunately, when I sent one to mom on her birthday, it failed to reach her. The postman probably didn’t know what to do with it. Sigh!
My father used to move around a lot so, I left behind many friends to whom I wrote on a regular basis. The post office, in cities with more than 50 thousand people, probably knew me by first name. If someone wrote a letter by “Shaily Agrawal, Aligarh”, the letter would have reached me without doubt.
It was so wonderful to connect with friends who were now far away. The anticipation, the waiting, the joy of the postman ringing my doorbell, the handwritten note reminding me that I was still missed, the nostalgia of reliving old days and the discussion of the present and future plans. It was worth the time it took for my letter to reach my friends and their reply to reach me.
When I left behind Kanpur to move to Agra with my father, it was probably the most painful time of my life. Manpreet and I had been inseparable for 3 years and, then, we had 400 miles between us!
It was the letters that kept me afloat at that time. I wrote letters every week, sometimes twice a week until Manpreet wed in 2007–I was 25 then.
I still miss handwritten letters–the tangible proof of love, the fact that someone wrote them just for me. Emails and WhatsApp messages don’t even come close. There is something about being able to touch letters, to stash them safely in a drawer so no one else can read the poor jokes your friend has shared with you…or the new love…or the heartbreak…
I wish my friends would write to me again and give me a reason to write back but the postman would probably not know what to do with the letters. 😊 So, here I am using the postcards to paint pictures. There are nice but not as nice as a handwritten joke from a dear friend…
Author’s note: Dedicated to my friends for writing to me and helping me remember that I am loved and missed. 😊
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Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 
a beautiful post, Shaily, an ode to the letter; yes, I have not written or received one in years; emails and texting is si immediate and easy —
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I just missed the smell of old paper hidden away to be reread later.
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Yes, letter writing days are gone. I think people can still appreciate an artsy postcard. It’s a collector’s item.
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Thanks! I totally agree. Can I have your name please?
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I was also a letter writer. I had a lovely fountain pen, fine paper and envelopes, and wrote 4-6 letters every month to the same group of friends, and they always replied. Once I moved to Norfolk in 2012, most of them had died, but I still had one I wrote to every two weeks. Then I injured my right wrist moving a heavy rubbish bin, and could no longer comfortably hold my pen. My handwriting changed, and I even had to change my signature on cheques because the injury didn’t heal and became arthritic. I miss letter-writing!
Best wishes, Pete.
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That makes two of us, Pete! Sorry about your hand.
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I also wrote letters as a child. In South Africa, the post office became so corrupt and inefficient it has been closed down. We don’t have a postal service now.
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That’s sad, Robbie. India has the largest network post-offices in Asia but with advent of Smartphones, it is obsolete now. It mostly deals with parcels and governmental posts now
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Yes, I understand
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I didn’t know that, Robbie. I am amazed to discover that a country as large as SA has no postal service!
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We always had in the past. The postal system is a sad victim of corruption and poor administration
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