The four postcards that sent people away
If you are facing severe challenges in your life, this is to tell you that you are not alone. This started as a diary entry but when I was done, I realized I should hit the publish button on this. This was contrary to my usual belief that people go overboard sharing intimate stories like this of their lives on social media. But ironically, in a rather challenging time of my life not very long ago, I read a tough life-story of a friend who put it out there for the world on FB and it somehow made me feel like I’m not the only one going through shit in life. I somehow felt relieved after long. So…
A year ago, three friends and I set off on a bike journey to the magnificent Spiti valley, nestled in the great Himalayas. If you have had the privilege to experience an empty mind — settled, noise-less — that’s how Komic village felt. This village was fairly in the middle of our trip. By this time our noses were roasted and breathing accustomed to the high altitude.
The villages here are famous for something very common yet monumental due to the altitude people live at. Like the Kaza village closeby had the world’s highest petrol pump, Komic village had the world’s highest post office. It required a slight walk before you get to the post office. It was a quiet, cave-like post office. So quiet for a monument but definitely filled with many Indian young tourists. All seated in corners, exercising their writing skills, scribbling away to glory. Some getting creative, some lost for words like my friends who wrote a maximum of 20 words including the address.
From this post office, I sat in a corner near the window doing what I love: write and share the love. I wrote 4 postcards that day. Addressed to my mom, dad, brother, and boyfriend. My father at the time had 4th stage cancer but there was hope. His will was strong and he showed very fewer signs of having a disease that malignant.
I remember my friends were curious as to who that 4th letter was for and I was blushing like a silly little girl. All of us together sent about 14 postcards. I remember Rohit, my boyfriend, was the first one to receive the letter from the lot. Rohit’s a sensitive and romantic one. One of those very few precious men that exist. He held it in his hands all the way to his office in the auto while moistening the letter at the same time. He was so moved with it. For days, he kept reminiscing about the day he found the letter addressed to him hanging at the doorknob of his house.
3 months later, I brought that letter back home. Rohit had passed away in a car accident while helping out a friend to fix a tire. It was really off the road where it happened. The possibility of such a thing happening was unimaginable as was the possibility of him leaving so soon like this. He was my rock throughout this struggle with my dad’s health. He was the one who was always there. It seemed impossible to believe it for several days after. A lot like how it felt when papa got detected with 4th stage cancer and when in August my papa’s cancer was deemed untreatable. Amidst all of this, my papa was battling cancer and it was painful, to say the least.
We had seen people being given timelines for their lives in our frequent visitations to Tata memorial. Now we were one of them. The journey of cancer with my father is a lifetime of ups and downs in itself, an extremely intense experience that I probably would write separately about.
In January, my father gave me a bunch of stuff to remember him by. His percussion instrument- daphli, some coins, and currency that my grandfather and he collected on their travels, and things like that. That day, he returned me the letter I sent him from Spiti. He said it’s mine now to look after. Now I have both his and Rohit’s letters resting together, probably like they’d be resting somewhere up there now. It’s been over a month that papa passed away this 3rd Feb. He joked one day to Rohit’s sister that they would both meet up there and smile at us. He could barely speak that day but he always mustered the energy for saying funny and sweet things. Both these men were one of a kind. I carry so much of them in me now.
It’s Feb end now, and in April my brother leaves for Dubai to his new job and new wife. And my mom moves along with him too. A year ago I was surrounded by all these people I loved and who loved me. When I was writing those postcards, my father’s fate wasn’t decided, my brother hadn’t even mentioned applying in Dubai, my mother wasn’t going to move to a foreign country, and Rohit was definitely up and alive. Things flipped so fast so soon.
I have never sent a postcard before in my life. I have received plenty but I have never sent one myself. The only 4 postcards I ever sent to the 4 most important people of my life. All family. In less than a year, they have landed at far different addresses than they were originally addressed at, far away from me, all of them. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I should go back to only receiving postcards…
Usually, I’m the person that’s all about the light and positivity. But today I want to acknowledge these other emotions that exist in us too. Just like how in Vipassana, we believe in feeling things as it is. There’s no good or bad, there just is…Today I’m consciously reminding myself the law of impermanence…that this too shall pass…that it’s okay to be here too...it is a precious beautiful life that sometimes will get rough to lead you in these really interesting ways. All the cool things that have happened to me have happened after a drastic change. Reminds me a line by Rupi Kaur — And here we are, despite it all :)
