Letter to Chhuti X

Dearest,

I like you, period. And I cannot have myself smeared in doubt and self-pity that denies us all the goodness of a you. As it is, you come and go, like storms, or all good things that do not remain. I like how you impress your authority over me, lazily, and make do for all the miseries that make up the mundane. I like how we are involved in our charming conspiracies and create a sense of celebratory dissolve for everyone else around.

Chhuti, much that you complete me, sometimes I feel bad thinking about your lack of companionship too. I mean, yes, you do have many people eagerly awaiting you, some to pull your cheeks, some to runaway with you, and yes, you have quite a handful with all your singing and dancing and doodling in my notebooks, but I feel an urge to see you with a smaller you. Smaller escapes. And we would call her Chithi. Chhuti and Chithi. Making you both inseparable. As it is you have quite become my identity, Letters to Chhuti. The sound of it is so chirpy, Chhuti-Chithi. Sometimes you call her, read her, and sometimes she does, when she is on her Chhuti.

The last letter to you and my daughter was a bad one, sorry.  I was completely devastated and did not wish for any of those fancy names of depression to cling on to me. I needed you, wanted you. And I got neither. But right after, I realized how mean I was in the act, shifting the burden of my doubts and darkness to pockets of sunshine and silver linings. I was selfish, I was insensitive and I am sorry. I cannot promise you the backpacker's trip anytime soon, but when we do we will have a good time, I promise.

We will be in C-Company, riding elephants and fighting over flavours of cakes. As Chinky digs into her ninth packet of chips, you and Chithi can pull her leg by sharing a donut instead. And we will be ready to take on the world, like a good dose of Vitamin-C, always essential for the proper functioning of the body, and mind. We will travel and eat and enjoy and laugh, and we may seem like a bunch of different-sized madhatters chirping incessantly, like little sparrows do, but it will be a chatter anyone who cares to listen, will enjoy. Like, you.

I am rushing now to get you your Chithi!

Love,

K.